Chapter 23: Boys Wanna Be Her

"Holy shit!" Olivia gasped out loud when she entered her house. "Holy shit! Holy shit!"

She might as well buy a lottery ticket today too because she was just invited for the event of the fucking season despite Eric's best efforts of completely ignoring her. Sometimes she wondered if she had a secret fairy Godmother watching out for her, because when she needed the most the cards fell exactly how she wanted them to. What were the chances that she would spot Jackson Herveaux at the police station today? And even though she couldn't read his mind clearly, the man loved to talk. All it took to butter up Herveaux Senior were some doe eyes and an "accidental" bump in the hallway.

Plus Olivia was used to charming middle-aged men. It was an unfortunate skill she picked up through the years. From Princeton professors to internship managers, to summer bosses in the ice cream shack she worked at as a teenager, she had plenty of experience being friendly to baby boomers. The mental thoughts she picked while doing it, however disappointingly unoriginal. And gross.

Olivia imagined Eric's reaction if he saw her accompanying Alcide Hervaux at the gala, and honestly, a big part of her wished he would be pissed. Anger was better than the complete indifference he had shown her last night. And she refused to be ignored.

But there were now more pressing issues at hand: what was she going to wear? Who was going to be there? She had to quickly find out everything there was to know about the major players who'd be attending the event, along with all there was to know in the political landscape of Louisiana at the moment. She couldn't show up to a party like this just as arm candy. She had to be an active player, too much was at stake.

Olivia ran to her closet and started packing all her makeup and toiletries first, followed by her favorite satin pyjamas, high-end jeans, blouses, a day dress and comfortable sandals for the day of and the morning after. Then she made an appointment at the one high-end (if you could even call it that) formal wear store in Shreveport, in the St. Vincent mall. Hopefully, they would have something in her size that needed no alterations. There was just no time! She had less than 24 hours to prepare and a lot of studying done.

She rushed to the mall (cabs were getting expensive, she really needed to figure out her car situation soon) and just made it in time for her appointment at Felicity & Chester, which was mostly a bridal boutique, but carried a decent collection of formal dresses. Olivia ended up choosing a strapless Jason Wu gown, made with a luxurious emerald silk fabric. It had a pretty pleat on the torso and a sheath skirt that was a bit shorter at the front so it would show her shoes and give her the illusion of a small train. The dress left her shoulders and arms bare, which she liked. Pole dancing gave her upper body a nice toned definition she was proud to show off. The dress also cost 8 thousand fucking dollars, so you best believe Olivia looked like a million dollars in it.

From the dress store, she walked straight into the mall's salon. She got a mani-pedi, her brows done, lashes tinted and a blowout, all while reading on local politics on her Blackberry. Clearly knowing who certain people were paid off big time. Although politics was generally pretty boring, Olivia was used to reading dry material. She was an accountant after all.

Liv got home late that night, holding the garment bag high up so it wouldn't drag on the ground. She hung the dress on the wall hook by her full-length mirror and tried on every heel she owned just for good measure. She decided on a pair of silver Jimmy Choos she bought herself for her birthday years ago. For accessories, she owned a matching clutch. For earrings, there was only one obvious choice: her Van Cleef & Arpels Snowflake diamond earrings. She opened the heavy black velvet box they were in and looked at the breathtaking cluster of diamonds that shined so ethereally in her hands.

She hated them.

They were a gift from her previous employer. When she first started working for the Mexican cartel, she was a completely different person. Outgoing, shiny, bright-eyed and way too trusting, Olivia accepted to work for the Mexican group thinking she would make a lot of money, easily and quickly. Laundering money wasn't that hard after all, and she was still employed by a large and well-known Accounting firm. No one would come looking.

She landed in Mexico City, hopped from the private jet into a luxurious car and was taken to the most stunning villa on the outskirts of town to meet Big Boss. She thought she was the hottest shit on the planet. Alejandro, her main point-person, introduced her to their current accountant and the three of them had the most fantastic meal, followed by expensive sipping tequila. She slept like a baby in the most luxurious bed ever created. Olivia was having breakfast in the garden the next morning while their accountant was briefing her on the shell companies he had set up when the Big Boss showed up, finally. After simple introductions, her client asked if Olivia had everything she needed. She warmly thanked her generous host, and he seemed genuinely pleased. Then, without a warning, he pulled a gun from the back of his belt and shot his accountant in the head. The back of his head exploded in red, warm blood splattered everywhere, covering Olivia's face, right shoulder and arm. Horrified, she froze while the man's body fell lifeless on top of his breakfast, blood pooling all over the white table cloth.

Big Boss then pulled this very velvet box and placed it at the edge of the table. He thanked her for joining his team and simply walked away. To this day she never understood why he killed his old accountant. When she took the job she thought she was joining the team, not replacing someone. It made her work extra hard to become irreplaceable, and maybe that's why he did it. She learned how to be extremely cautious, discreet and efficient. At any moment someone could just walk into the room and shoot her in the head.

The worst part, the part that truly scared her, was that she didn't see it coming. Her previous boss had a clear mind, no fear, no anger, nothing but routine thoughts. Murder was so simple, so casual, so normal it didn't even cause a splash.

She put the heavy earrings on and looked at herself in the mirror while reciting the names of every prominent attendee she had read about that night. Despite getting possibly involved with a federal agent whose intentions were to actually save her, this was by far the most dangerous assignment she ever had. She could very well learn absolutely nothing useful and just majorly piss off Eric, who proved more than capable of making her life miserable. But it was a risk she was willing to take.

Just like when she accepted these earrings.

Alcide Hervaux drove the exact speed limit, which shouldn't be surprising at all. She could tell it was just how he was - he wasn't being extra cautious just because he was driving her car. Still, she could visibly see the joy in him as he drove the Corvette down the highway. It was weird to think this was her car. Her dad would lose his mind if he could see her right now (for many other reasons too, but firstly it would be about the car).

"Are you comfortable?" The agent asked, clearing his throat. They had been driving in silence for about one hour.

Baton Rouge was that awkward distance that it took just as long driving to it as it did flying. Longer actually, if you count the TSA line. They still had another 2 hours to go, but she didn't mind long drives. It reminded her of the childhood summer trips she took with her dad when they drove all the way to Cape Breton then hopped onto the ferry to Newfoundland to visit his family. This car, however, was much more comfortable.

"Yes, thank you."

"Why haven't I seen you drive this? You're either in and out of a taxi, or you're in someone else's much shittier car."

She figured he was referring to Bobby Burnham's humble Camry. Time to confess her sin. "To be honest, I don't know how to drive stick."

"Wait," he glared at her. It was the first time he even took his eyes off the road since they left her house. "You can't be serious. Why the hell did you even buy this thing then?"

"I didn't, it was a gift." She decided to be truthful for once, hoping it would normalize giving cars as gifts and not bribes.

His face closed and suddenly he looked at the steering wheel as if it were made out of bait worms. "Northman?"

"Yep."

His enthusiasm about driving her car visibly declined. "For what?"

"I did a thing in the bedroom he had never seen before."

"You did-" he looked sour for a second before catching on. "Oh. You're joking."

His grossed-out yet relieved reaction was hilarious. She smiled but definitely held back the laughter. "Yes. Contrary to popular opinion, I am not sleeping with Eric."

"Why the car then? What's he bribing you for?"

"Will you quit with this stupid nonsense? He doesn't have to bribe me to do anything," because A) she was willing; and B) he has much more effective methods of manipulation; "He was grateful I got his progeny out of a sticky situation and gave me a gift. The words 'thank you' don't exist in his vocabulary, that's all."

"Wow, boss of the year-"

"Not my boss." She corrected him.

"Right."

"What about you? How did you get your truck?"

"It's the south, everyone's got a truck in case you haven't noticed."

But Olivia decided to press the issue. She felt oddly comfortable talking to him. "It's a brand new top model Dodge Ram, and you make what, 50? 55k a year?"

"Wow!" He laughed nervously, getting flustered again. "Aren't you a little forward?"

"What? Two can play this game."

Alcide took a long minute to pass an old lady on the highway who was going way below the speed limit. After he was done, he still hesitated to answer. He was stalling. "It was a gift from my father."

Interesting. "Ooooh or was it - a bribe?"

"In this case, it honestly might have been. I had to take in one of my little brothers for a whole year. He's just as bad as every teenager you see in a commercial for house cleaning supplies."

"One of your little brothers? How many siblings do you have?"

"I'm the oldest of nine," Woah. "Janice is my only full sibling, the others are from my dad's… Other relationships."

"Divorced parents, I take it?"

"My mother passed away when I was 10. Breast cancer."

Olivia could painfully relate to the loss of a parent, but she didn't feel like sharing. "Sorry to hear that," was all she said.

He shrugged. "It's okay. You?"

"Only child."

"Lucky."

"So I've been told. Are you all werewolves?"

"Err... Yeah."

"You don't like talking about it, do you?"

"Can't say I've talked about it with someone who isn't."

"So you never told anyone? Not a best friend, not even a girlfriend?"

This question was genuine. Telling someone what you really are was against Olivia's number one rule. A rule that had been drilled deep into the depths of her core by her father (who himself had broken it because he had told her mother at some point). But it wasn't every day she met someone who had a secret similar to hers.

"Never had to. I only ever dated one person and she's a werewolf too."

"You… Have you only dated one person? Your whole life?"

He gave a short sigh. "Middle school sweethearts. Didn't work out-"

Olivia could not hold back the laughter this time. It was just too fucking funny. A man this hot, and he had only ever slept with a single woman? Only ever kissed Debbie fucking Pelt? Well, that explained why he got so awkward every time she flirted with him. Being in a relationship for 20 years gave him zero experience in flirting, or dating someone new. The idea that a man like this had no game was criminally hilarious to her.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing! I think it's sweet-"

"No, you don't."

She laughed again, and this time he cracked a smile too. "I'm sorry- I shouldn't be laughing. I'm being rude."

Here he was, pouring his little heart out and she was making fun of him.

"No, no I get it. People expect me to be like my father," a manwhore, he thought that loud and clear with a tinge of resentment.

"Your father seems like a very nice man."

"You don't mean that-"

"I do, actually. He has a lot of love for you."

Even though that was God's honest truth, as Olivia picked it straight from Jackson Herveaux's brain yesterday, judging by his reaction that was the wrong thing to say. Alcide's brows furrowed together and he was quiet, his mind distant and stormy for the rest of the drive. She didn't know what his beef with father was, but she regretted meddling in it. She assumed such revelation would have been heartwarming, but Alcide disagreed immensely. She knew better than to disclose personal things like that, especially things that weren't spoken out loud. But the comforting vibe of the conversation had given her a false sense of intimacy, and now she paid for it in punitive silence.

Finally, they pulled into the hotel close to 5 PM. The car rolled into the U-shaped driveway and it did not stand out amongst the other cars. Other guests of the Gala must be staying at this hotel too because the driveway was filled with Mustangs, Porches, Camaros, a couple of Lamborghinis, you name it. In the center of the driveway was a spectacular water fountain and the whole building was landscaped to perfection. This surely explained why the nightly rate was almost 600 dollars. The valet took their car, and a bellhop immediately appeared to take their luggage which had been tetris'd carefully into the very small trunk. Olivia had forgotten to pass along Eric's advice to pack light.

The two checked in at the desk (they had made separate reservations) and agreed to meet in an hour for dinner before getting ready for the main event. You'd think that for five thousand dollars a ticket the Gala would have an all-you-can-eat buffet of high-end Japanese-infused French cuisine, but Alcide warned her these things usually had canapés at best. He spoke like had some previous experience in the subject.

This allowed her time to unpack and steam the creases out of her dress that had been folded like origami to fit in the car. She even managed to catch a quick nap before heading back down the hotel lobby.

Alcide was waiting for her in the lobby's lounge area and he had changed into more comfortable clothes. He was wearing jean shorts, a crisp white t-shirt that hugged his impeccable arms and boat shoes. If only Alcide knew what every woman in that lobby was thinking right now - because she sure did. Olivia wasn't sure, but she didn't think his clothes were up to par with the hotel's restaurant's dress code.

"A little secret about me," he said standing up. "I can only take so much snobbery at once, and I already overpaid for the beer at the bar yesterday,"

"I'm pretty sure I paid for your beer last night," Olivia protested.

"Fine, you did. But we are already spending the rest of the night with a bunch of rich assholes, and I'd like to have dinner in peace."

"Sure, what do you have in mind?"

"You'll see."

She followed Alcide outside, and the two walked past the gardens, to the sidewalk and down the street block. Whenever they were going, it wasn't the kind of place you drove your Corvette to. But, he seemed to know exactly where they were going so she just followed.

The day was absolutely beautiful. The sun was starting to set, casting its golden light on the city. Compared to Shreveport (or Newark where she grew up), Baton Rouge was quaint but cute. They walked past old parks with ancient Louisiana trees, small little markets and pubs with patios that spilled onto the streets. Olivia felt a funny feeling in her stomach. It was the gnawing this is a date feeling.

They headed into a small corner deli called Blue's Fine Cajun Cuisine, and the Fine part must have been satirical. The place was covered in wood panelling from wall to wall, and it had a total of three small tables. There were three freezers in the corner where people could buy frozen sausage, and at the counter, there was a large display fridge full of seafood and marinating meats. The only reason Olivia did not immediately protest was because the smell coming out of the kitchen was out of this world and she was salivating already.

Alcide insisted on ordering for both of them. He also got them cold beers and paid upfront at the counter. The two took a seat at the corner table right by the fan which was blowing mildly hot air. Olivia tried not to look too uncomfortable, but she could feel the sweat on the back of her thighs meld her legs into the seat which wasn't helpful at all. Wearing a dress today was a poor call.

"I've eaten here, many, many times."

"And I see you lived," she muttered under her breath.

"I promise it's good."

"Famous last words."

Not too long after the friendly server brought their food in paper plates, along with plastic cutlery wrapped in napkins. The food did not look… Like what she was used to. It was a mountain of dirty rice with beans, covered with shrimp and chicken(?) pieces and a mysterious red sauce, with a square of cornbread on the side. Alcide attacked his plate like, well, a dog.

Olivia did a small mental prayer for this food not to make her ill. She hadn't tested it, but she was going to assume her dress wasn't particularly bathroom friendly. She reconsidered for a second, reminding herself what was at stake tonight. But, she was hungry and Alcide seemed to have no problem with it. Giving in, she took a bite.

"Holy fucking shit." It was insanely good.

"I know right?"

She devoured her plate in silence. The food was like fireworks in her mouth. Perfectly seasoned, the textures, the balance between smoky flavours, and the tangy tomato-based gravy. There was no food on earth better than this. No restaurant in New York could top this meal. It was indeed, Fine Cajun dining, and she felt blessed and grateful to be here to witness it.

"So what made you start working for vamps?" Alcide said as he finished off his beer. He had finished his food minutes ago but patiently waited for her to finish hers. The smile on his face indicated he wanted her to have this southern experience uninterrupted.

"Uhm, long story."

"Olivia, come on. I've blurted out half my life story and you've given me nothing."

Yeah, and you're gonna get nothing. This isn't a date, she thought to herself. "Corporate life was draining the life out of me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Be assigned a cubicle, work 9 to 5, office politics-"

"Right, because working vampire hours and navigating vampire politics is so much better."

He had a point. "I'm an accountant Alcide. It's just me at home in my pyjamas, my Sage X3 software, and numbers. No annoying client calls to interrupt me during the day, plus they pay well."

"How well?"

"Like I could buy a Corvette a month kind of well."

She had a point too. "And you never asked yourself where all that money comes from?"

"It comes from time."

"From time?" Alcide blinked, as the two got up and started to slowly make their way back to the hotel.

"Yeah, vampires have existed since the dawn of time. They are literally immortal and have accumulated more wealth than you think. Eric Northman's been in business in Shreveport since I was 6 years old, but he had businesses since the moon was round. The guy is literally a thousand years old, he probably has bond certificates older than my grandparents that he uses as bookmarks."

"You're trying to spin this as some sort of generational wealth?"

"Minus the generation, kind of. Imagine how much money you'd make if you literally live forever."

Alcide shook his head, not entirely swallowing this load of bullshit. "I think you're too trusting, Olivia."

She had to bite her tongue on that one. "That's a polite way of calling me dumb."

"Oh, I don't think you're dumb at all. In fact, I think you're probably the smartest person I've had a conversation with in at least three months."

She looked away at the bustling street full of pedestrians enjoying this sunny Friday sunset and focused on not blushing. "Well, your social circles are deeply lacking then."

"Not for long though. Tonight will be a long night of socializing with elite douchebags, and Ivy league assholes," he sighed.

"Hey-" she protested laughing. "I'm an Ivy league asshole!"

"Why do you think I've asked you to come to this Gala with me?"

"Because you think you can soften me up and I'll become a mole for you in the Vampire Deep State," Olivia joked. She almost didn't want to go back to the hotel and spend the night scanning the minds of elite douchebags and Ivy league assholes. She wanted to keep wandering the town with Alcide.

"Is there a vampire deep state?"

Yes. "Probably. They don't tell me these things, and I don't ask." The two walked in comfortable silence for a little bit. She tried to read his mind, but she had to literally wrap her arm around his to do so. She didn't allow herself to do it, so she decided to keep talking. "If you hate this kind of thing, why are you doing it?"

Now it was Alcides turn to avoid her eyes. She "accidentally" brushed her hand on the back of his. It was complicated in there. "When Jackson Herveaux asks you a favor, he doesn't really take a no for an answer."

His head was complicated, yes, but she knew he was lying. He brought her here because he wanted to gain her trust away from Eric. This would have been a good time to correct this assumption, but Olivia didn't want to spoil the moment.

"So what's the favor, exactly?"

Alcide sighed. "Truman Burell's campaign is all about infrastructure investment, which means lots of construction which is good for my dad. He owns a surveying business,"

"And he wants that government contract."

"Oh yes."

"So why send you? This seems like a big business move, you don't even work for him."

"I used to, for many years. And to be honest, I try not to ask too many personal questions to my dad. I usually don't like the answer. " He was telling the truth.

Dreadfully, they had arrived back at the hotel. The fun was over. Olivia and Alcide parted ways in the hallway, and she entered her room alone. She took a quick cold shower to cool off both body and spirit. She was getting a little too cozy with the agent for her liking, and every part of her wanted more. What the actual fuck was wrong with her?

Nothing. That was the problem. He was perfectly nice and perfectly hot, and it was the world's worst idea. Which was why she wanted him so much.

Pushing those feelings away, she did her make-up fancier than usual. She chose a subtle smokey brown eyeshadow cat-eye (she was not to be trusted with liquid eyeliner), a set of fake half lashes, peach blush and rosy nude lipstick. Olivia was not very skilled in doing her own hair, but the blowout she had gotten yesterday still held up which was a miracle given the Louisiana heat.

She curled two front pieces and pulled the rest back into a low-knotted bun which she had mastered from her ballet recital days. She carefully tugged at the roots and at the bun to add volume. She put her earrings on, and opened the garment bag, revealing the pièce de résistance, the emerald silk gown. She opened the back zipper and stepped into it, carefully pulling it past her hips and up her torso. Then she tugged up the zipper halfway past her back and...

"Goddammit."

She contorted herself as much as she could in front of the mirror, trying to pull the zipper all the way up but she couldn't get it all the way closed. Olivia knew she had gotten lazy in her shoulder stretches but she was still more flexible than the regular person. How were normal people supposed to do this by themselves?!

Only halfway zipped, she left her room holding the top of her dress with her hands. Olivia walked down the hallway and knocked on Alcide's door.

"Come in!" He called.

She entered casually into the room which by the way, was way bigger and fancier than hers. It had a whole living room area. Her guess was that this endeavour was being charged to Herveaux Senior's credit card. Maybe she was buttering up the wrong Hervaux.

When Alcide walked into the room from his bedroom, he stopped dead right in his tracks looking at her speechless. And he was also shirtless. Oh no, she was buttering up the right Hervaux because Holy. Fucking. Shit. His body was to die for. His bed was right there. Neither of them had to be mind readers to know what the other was thinking. After what felt like an eternity, her mouth was finally able to form words.

"Could you help me with the zipper?"

He snapped back to reality and quietly walked behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body and the intensity of his thoughts from him standing so close. The thing was, she knew he didn't have to stand so close to help with her dress. But yet there he stood.

She felt his breath on the nape of her neck, which sent shivers down her body. His upstairs brain was at war with the downstairs one, and Olivia didn't even blink. She knew which one she desperately wanted to win.

His hands gently gathered her dress at the base of her spine and pinched the delicate metal fastener. His thoughts wandered elsewhere. He thought of how good spending time with Olivia made him feel, something he hadn't felt in a really long time. The feeling was mutual.

Her heart started pounding in her chest, her skin aching for his to touch her. If she took a cold shower 30 minutes ago, the middle of her legs had no memory of it. The small quiet hiss of the zipper was the only sound in the entire room. She felt the dress slightly tighten in the middle of her back and then he stopped. She felt like she was on the very top of the world's tallest roller coaster.

Then Alcide pulled on the zipper again. But this time, he pulled it all the way down.

A.N.

I'm literally out of breath just editing this. I'm gonna lie down

xoxo