Good evening everyone! If you still here reading my story, I really appreciate it. Also, thank you so much for the reviews. I love to hear what you all think. I plan on trying to get two more chapters off this week (fingers crossed).
I hope you all enjoy this chapter and are having a great weekend so far.
Olivia – POV
After ending the phone call with Fitz, I step into the shower, slip into a set of silk pajamas, and change the music to something more relaxing. Pouring myself a final glass of wine, I sink into my new cozy couch with my laptop, ready to dive into the world of Fitz. I don't know anything about this man. Since I can't seem to get him off my mind, I need to learn everything I can about him.
With every click, a captivating image of Fitz starts to take shape. Not only is he a multimillionaire, but he's also a dedicated philanthropist. The article says, "Despite his privileged upbringing, Fitzgerald Grant is an empathetic and compassionate man, believing in the importance of giving back to the community and using his resources to effect positive change." As I continue to read about this magnetic man, I'm awestruck. He's heavily involved in the Save the Children Organization and Disabled American Veterans. Hmmm. It's clear that we share a passion for social issues, and I can't help but feel an even stronger connection to him. He's using his position for good. I like that.
Delving deeper into his background, I discover that he is the son of Governor Grant and a former Navy pilot who earned a prestigious Medal of Honor for fearlessly confronting the enemy under deadly fire. He's truly remarkable, and seeing him in that uniform only adds to his appeal. Following his service in the Navy, he took over the Grant Hotels from his father when he stepped into the role of Governor.
As I scroll through the images of him, I can't help but notice the photos of him and his wife, Mellie. How they looked at each other in those pictures stirred a gentle ache in my heart, a bittersweet feeling that I couldn't ignore and shouldn't be there. She was more than just beautiful; she's enchanting, with grace and elegance. Her radiant smile and Fitz's adoring gaze at her, I wonder how genuine it is. Lord knows I've faked many photos with Edison.
However, what intrigued me the most were the photographs of Fitz with several stunning women. The media speculation about his romantic involvement with them only served to amplify the unwarranted emotions brewing within me. Sitting back from my computer and taking a sip of my drink, I can't shake the feeling that pursuing any relationship with Fitz would inevitably lead to heartache. It's a battle between my heart and my principles, and I fear I won't be able to resist the pull towards him, no matter the consequences.
As I continue to drown my thoughts in liquor and lose myself in the music, the sound of the doorbell startles me. I'm not anticipating any visitors. They must have the wrong apartment. Trying to ignore the ringing, I finally go to the intercom and demand to know who is at the door.
"It's...um...me...Fitz."
What!? What the hell is he doing here? He's supposed to be at home. "Fitz, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you. Is that okay? I got wine." He says as if he's dangling a carrot on a string.
Lucky for me, I'm practically out and wouldn't mind another glass. "Yeah, I'll buzz you in." I buzz him in, and sprint to the bathroom to unwrap my hair and give myself a quick look over. I look pretty good, but that could be the alcohol talking.
I hear him knock at the door. "Give me one second." I wish he would have called so I wouldn't have drank so much. I brush my hair one last time and head to the door. I take a deep breath as I open it.
There he is, a towering figure, his presence commanding attention. As he stands before me, it's as if his piercing eyes are dissecting every part of my body. Edison never once looked at me with such intensity. But Fitz, well, Fitz makes me feel like the only woman in existence, even though I'm fully aware of his past or maybe current entanglements with other stunning women. "Damn, you look good," he remarks, his eyes sweeping over me.
"Thank you. Come in."
"I'm sorry I'm late for drinks. Looks like you're way ahead of me."
"Yeah, a little bit," I mutter, my eyes fixed on the floor, feeling nervous.
"More than a little bit," he replies in his deep, baritone voice. As he slowly walks toward me, I instinctively take a step back, feeling the intensity of his gaze. His eyes flick to the bag in his hand. "As promised, wine and something for me. Something a little stronger."
"I see. Well, thank you for the wine. Please make yourself comfortable; I'll get the drinks."
"Great."
As I open the wine bottle, my nerves start to go haywire. Calm down, girl. The smell of his cologne is in the air and smells delicious. "I like your place. It's very cozy and beautifully decorated."
"Thank you. I still have a few more things to do, but it's coming together," I call out from the kitchen, trying to steady my nerves.
After pouring a glass of wine for myself and a bourbon on the rocks for him, I returned to the living room and handed him his drink. "Here you go."
"Thanks." He says, taking a sip.
"Now, what brings you here?" I ask curiously. He chuckles and looks down at the floor.
"I just wanted to see you."
"I thought you were spending time with your boys?"
"Teenagers don't always want to hang out with their old man," he replies with a wry smile.
"I see," I responded, puzzled. "You also mentioned your dad is visiting."
He leans back, nodding. "Yeah, it's more like he's taken over my house and won't stop badgering me about running for the Senate."
"Really? I didn't know a seat was coming up," I remark.
"How do you know there's no..." He pauses, then realizes, "Oh yeah, campaign manager. I'm sure you do keep up with politics."
"I do," I acknowledge. "Can't help myself. It's one of the first things I researched before coming here. I like to know who my leaders are."
He smiles. "Well, it hasn't been announced yet, but...wait, can you keep a secret?" he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I smile, "Yes, I've been entrusted with many secrets over my lifetime." He grins back at me.
"Warner hasn't announced it yet, but he isn't running for another term, and he and my father want me to run for his seat."
"Wow. That's huge. Are you thinking about it?"
"Hell no."
"Why not? You would make a great Senator. You have the money, the looks, the family name, you're running a major hotel, and you're publicly active in some pretty positive social issues, child poverty, veterans," I suggest.
"I would make a terrible politician." He stops, turns to me, and looks at me curiously. "How do you know I'm interested in those issues?"
Damn, I said too much. "Well, I guess I have a confession to make now. I may have stalked you online a little bit."
"Really?" He says, his interest piqued. "I have a stalker."
I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Tell me why you think you wouldn't make a great politician."
"I don't have time for that."
"You can do better than that. We said we would be honest with each other. Right?"
He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands. "Because I'm not my father. I can't work a room the way he does, I'm not interested in kissing people's asses for money, and I don't want to have to tell lies. Also, I don't want to put my boys through that. It can be grueling. I'm just not built for it. I can help people more right from where I am.
There's so much pain behind his eyes, a sort of emptiness. For a man in his position, he has a clear path into politics, being the Governor's son, but his heart has to be in it. "I think it's admirable that you are not allowing yourself to be forced into running. It's something you have to want passionately. You have to do what feels right for you and your family." He looks up at me, and a smile creeps onto his face. "What?"
"That's the first time anyone has said I should do what feels right beside my brother and children."
"Well, it's the truth. Don't allow yourself to get backed into a corner by anyone, including your family. I learned that the hard way."
He sips his drink as he shifts on the couch to face me. He leans forward and asks, "Let's back up a little. You said you did an online search of me. What did you find out? Maybe I can dispel some of the rumors."
I grapple with finding the courage to broach the subject of the women I saw him with. I don't want to come across as jealous, but I can't suppress my curiosity. "Yeah...um...most of the information seemed to be biographical, and there were photos of you with several stunning women that the media was speculating about," I admit, attempting to appear composed as I take a sip of my drink and wait for his response.
He pauses, his eyes fixed on mine, before replying, "Yes, I've been photographed with beautiful women, but none as beautiful as you."
Laughter spills out of me, unexpected and genuine. "You're so full of shit."
"I'm serious," he insists with a smile. "All those women may have been beautiful on the outside, but they were superficial and empty on the inside. You, on the other hand, are beautiful inside and out."
My curiosity is piqued, and I hesitate before asking, "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Of course, I'm an open book to you," he replies.
"Does your wife get upset about... you know... the other women?"
"I think more so in the beginning, but as the years went on, she realized that we would never have the kind of marriage either of us wanted. I never...I should stop."
"What?"
"I have...never discussed my marriage with any woman. It seems unfair and pathetic discussing it with you."
"Fitz, it's not unfair to me or pathetic. I've been there. I've been married to someone that was not my first choice. Unfortunately, it took me too long and a lot of heartache before I got the courage or the guts to say no. This is not what I want for my life. I can do better than this. Whether I get married again or not, I know being with a man like Edison is not what I want."
"I've thought about walking away a million times."
"Why do you stay, then?" I ask, puzzled.
"I don't have a good answer for that." He finally looks up at me, "I guess I stay because it's easier than leaving. It would be so painful for the kids. Mellie can be unreasonable and vindictive when she doesn't get what she wants. The boys will pay for my mistakes. So, as miserable as it may be to live with her, trying to navigate joint custody with her would be a nightmare," he explains. After a moment of silence, he adds, "Not all of us can be as brave as you."
"Don't compare your situation to mine," I reply firmly. "Edison and I didn't have kids, and I'm so thankful for that. I'm not sure how it would have turned out. Maybe I would still be there if we did."
"My brother has been putting pressure on me to get a divorce. Hell, the kids think we should get a divorce. That's how bad it is."
"You'll make a decision when you're ready. When the time is right, you'll know it. You'll feel it. You won't question it anymore. You'll just do it."
Silence falls between us as the room fills with the sounds of the song Show Me How by Men I Trust. I sense I touched a nerve, and I'm unsure how to navigate the conversation from here. Then he speaks up, "You told me about your dad. What about your mom?"
I pause. I guess we're moving from one complicated subject to another. "My mother passed away when I was 12."
"Your mother died?" His voice carried soft sympathy.
"Yes, car accident," I replied, trying not to keep my composure. Sometimes, the mere thought of my mother brings me tears.
"Damn, I'm sorry, Liv. I...I lost my mother to cancer when I was 16," he confessed, the weight of his sorrow evident.
"Oh, Fitz, I'm so sorry,"
"Yeah, me too. I guess we have more in common than we realized," he remarked, the heaviness of our shared grief loomed over us. He gently rested his hand on my thigh, offering a silent reassurance.
This is getting too heavy for the amount of alcohol I've drunk tonight; I'll be a crying fool in about 2.5 seconds. I need to shift the conversation. "Tell me about your boys?"
"My boys." His face lights up with the biggest smile I've seen on him. "They are incredible. Each of them has unique qualities, but they're all loving, clever, witty, so full of life. I just want them to follow their own paths. Live their lives on their terms. I hope I get to introduce you to them someday."
"That would be nice."
He takes another sip of his drink, "When we were on the phone, you mentioned wanting boys someday; how many do you want?" His index finger traced gentle circles on my thigh, sending shivers. I couldn't help but revel in his touch. "I don't know, maybe one or two boys. I would also like a girl, I think."
"I don't know how good of a girl dad I would be. I don't think I could handle the pressure of men coming to my house to pick up my daughter. I might kill someone," he says with a straight face, which makes me laugh. "I'm serious. I know what men want, and they're predators."
"Predators? So, I should be worried about you?" His eyes meet mine, and his hand moves further into my inner thigh. "The safest place you can be is with me, Ms. Pope."
"Is that so?"
With his voice, a soothing blend of warmth and authority, he says, "You can bet your last dollar on it. I'll never let any harm come to you." He leans forward to pick up his drink from the table and takes another sip.
As the sexual tension builds, I need to step away from him momentarily. I have got to get his hand off my thigh before I lose my mind. "Looks like your drink is getting low; let me get you a refill," I offer, reaching for his glass. But he surprises me by gripping my hand.
Why don't you let me do that," he insists.
"No, you're my guest. Stay your ass right there, and I'll be right back," I retort, resisting his attempt to take over.
"You're so bossy, Ms. Pope. I have never had a woman talk to me the way you do." he teases with a charming smile.
"If you're going to be around me, you need to realize you're not going to always get your way. I'm a rebel." I shoot back, trying to maintain control. His pearly white smile only adds to the intensity of the moment.
"I like that," he admits with amusement.
"We'll see how much you like it," I assert as I walk into the kitchen, trying to catch my breath. His presence is undeniably arousing.
As I poured our drinks, I heard him inquire, "You know the President?"
"Give me one second," I reply, grabbing our drinks and returning to the living room, where he's examining my photos on the mantel. "Oh, that was during a campaign rally stop for Edison. I don't know him personally, but you don't turn down a photo with the president. Ever."
"This is true." He says, making his way back over to the couch. "You are quite interesting, Ms. Pope," he remarks.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I respond.
"Please do," he said as I sat our drinks down on the table. Just as I was about to settle into my seat, he grabbed me from around the waist, pulling me to him. Being against his body like this is making me weak, and there is no denying the sexual tension between us. My eyes darted back and forth from his intense gaze to his tempting lips. I couldn't resist them any longer; truth be told, I didn't want to.
He leaned in to kiss me slowly, and our lips gently met. His warm breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine. As the kiss intensifies, I press closer to his, feeling the heat between us ignite. I wrap my arms around his neck, the softness of his curls entwining with my fingers. We lose ourselves in the pure electricity of the moment. But I have to stop this before things go too far.
Reluctantly, I pulled away and take a step back. Our eyes locked as I apologized, ashamed of giving in to my desires. He steps toward me, "Olivia, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who should apologize. I should have better impulse control, but it's difficult not to touch you or kiss you when you're this close."
Shamefully, I muttered, "I shouldn't have let you." I attempt to move around him, but he doesn't let me.
"Olivia, let's face it. There's something between us, isn't there?"
Hell, yes, there is. I draw in a breath, "I suppose so."
"Why are we fighting it, then?"
"Because you're married, among other things."
He grabs my hand and guides me to sit down on the couch. "Let me be straightforward with you. My marriage is a facade. It's built on deceit, manipulation, anger, and loathing. We don't share a bed and we barely share a meal."
"Fitz, you don't understand. It's not easy for me to talk about this, but my ex cheated on me repeatedly, breaking my heart a million times. He wasn't my first choice, but I tried to be a good wife regardless. I never cheated on him. I supported him however I could but received nothing in return."
"He's a damn fool to have a woman like you and do that. If you were mine, I would never do that to you." But he is capable of doing it, and all those photos of him with other women prove it. I should tell him to leave. To never call me again, but everything in me advises me against it. I like him. He's charming, funny, considerate, extremely attractive. He's shown me more attention in the last two days than I've experienced in years. But can I trust him? Can I live with the constant fear of being hurt? Maybe we can somehow exist as friends if we lay some ground rules, but will I just be setting myself up for more heartache?
"Olivia, what are you thinking? I can see your brain running a mile a minute."
"Fitz, I really like you, and I've enjoyed just about every moment we've shared so far. But this is complicated for me. It's clear that you're used to doing this, but I don't want to hurt anyone the way I've been hurt, and I certainly don't want my heart broken."
"Do you think I would intentionally hurt you?" he asks, looking genuinely hurt by the suggestion.
"I don't know. I don't know you."
"Okay, that's fair. Then it's my mission to do whatever it takes to prove you wrong," he says, moving closer to me on the couch. "Olivia, I like you too, probably more than I should at this point. I admire you. I want to get to know you. I want to spend time with you. I want to make you smile."
Tears start to well up in my eyes, and the last thing I want is to cry in front of him. It's difficult to hear such heartfelt words from a man I barely know, especially after being starved of love for so long. I want to believe him despite my reservations.
"Please don't cry, baby," he says softly as he wipes the tears from my eyes, his touch gentle against my face. "I'm sorry you were hurt so badly." He wraps his arm around me, drawing me in closer. As I rest my head on his chest, I feel a sense of security I haven't felt in a long time. His words are soothing, and his embrace comforting. "You know, you're not the only one with insecurities," he murmurs, his words reverberating through his chest. "I'm a 46-year-old man whose father never failed to remind me that I would never amount to shit, no matter what I achieved. I've never experienced real love, never had a hand in making any real decisions in my life, and I'm known to be a real bummer when I enter a room." His honesty elicits a chuckle from me, which he finds amusing. "Is me being a bummer funny to you?
"No, I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," I said, still unable to hide my smile. He shifts me off of him so that he can meet my eyes. "We can take things as slow as you want, Olivia. I'm not rushing you or putting any pressure on you. If you don't want me to kiss you anymore, I'll do my best to resist your beautiful lips," he says, gently stroking my cheek. With sincerity in his eyes, I find myself unable to resist the urge to kiss him again.
I pull him close to me and press my lips to his. He responds eagerly, his mouth meeting mine in a passionate embrace. The scent of his cologne envelops me, mingling with the taste of his lips, his fingers tangling in my hair as we lose ourselves in the moment. He sends me into a state of euphoria. His hands caress my body, creating a surge of desire for him and a need for a deeper connection. I gently withdraw from our kiss. The only thing I can say is, "Wow."
He laughs, running his hand through his hair. "Wow, is right." We sit there for a moment, trying to gain our composure. "Hey, come here," he says, pulling me into a tight embrace. I lay my head on his chest, and I can hear his heart beating. "Liv, you are a total package, and I don't want to fuck this up. I want you to...I need you to know that I...want this to be different. I want this to be more, and after hearing what Edison did to you...I...I don't want to be that guy." I can hear him let out a deep sigh.
"You're doing fine, Fitz." We sat together in silence, the music creating a comforting atmosphere. As his strokes my hair and rains gentle kisses down on top of my head, I felt myself slipping into a peaceful trance, letting go of all my worries and immersing myself in this tender moment.