Olivia POV

After hanging the phone up on Fitz, I seethed with frustration. How dare he try to dictate who I could be friends with? I owed him no explanations, especially about Jake, whom I have known for years. I refused to let Fitz make me justify my choices and actions to him.

I pour myself a glass of wine and pick up my book, hoping to lose myself in its pages until sleep rescues me. About an hour into my escape, my phone jolts me from my thoughts, and there's Jake's name flashing on the screen. I hesitate for just a moment but ultimately answer the call.

"Hello."

"Hey, Liv."

"Hey Jake, how are you?"

"Umm, I'm doing okay. Just winding down for the night."

"Yeah, me too, a glass of wine and a book. How's Lilly?"

"Good, she went to school today...oh...I forgot to tell you, Lilly's play is next week, are you free to come? If you're not, don't worry about it. I just wanted to invite you."

"I would love to come. Just send me the details."

"Will do." There's a moment of silence between us.

"So, how was your..um...work lunch?"

"It was fine."

"So, what do you think of Mr. Grant?"

I know he's fishing for information. "I think he's a nice guy with the money to pay me for a painting."

"That he does." Jake pauses. "So, did he try to invite you for dinner or back to his place?"

This is getting annoying from the both of them. "No, he did not. He was professional, as he should be."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. That man has quite the reputation. Loves the ladies, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, that's none of my business."

"No, you're right. You just have to be careful around him. His mission in life is to see how many women he can get into bed. If he gets the chance, he will. I've known plenty of hearts he's left broken in his path. He's a dog," his voice takes on a serious tone. "He's a cheater, Liv. His whole family is corrupt. You don't need to get involved with someone like him."

"That's not my business, Jake. He's just a client, and I'm lucky to have one of my paintings commissioned by him." At this point, I'm lying so much about this painting that I will have to do one.

"Okay, I just don't want you making another mistake." Why did that make me feel insulted?

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, I just mean, I don't want a man coming along and taking advantage of you like Edison did."

I lean back on the couch, trying to contain my frustration as Jake's words hang in the air. "I'm pretty tired. I'm going to head to bed," I mutter, desperate to escape the tension that's settled between us.

"I'll check in with you on Thursday. We can start the invite list. We can have a...working lunch," his voice oozes with sarcasm, and I can't help but roll my eyes at his passive-aggressive behavior.

Fighting to keep my cool, I reply, "Yeah, look, I appreciate your help with everything; I do, but if it becomes too much for your schedule, just let me know."

"Liv, I am going to help you. I made a promise to you. You know I would do anything for you," Jake insists, his tone unwavering.

I let out a frustrated huff, the discomfort growing with each passing moment. "Thanks. Have a good night, Jake." I disconnect our call, take a sip of my wine, and sit back, my mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Two men vying for me, both stirring up chaos within me. One is an old flame, a man who once shattered my soul, yet somehow, we found our way back to each other's lives. The other is an enigma, a force of nature that I can't seem to resist. It's baffling because he's not the type of man I usually find myself drawn to. He exudes an air of possessiveness; at times, he's abrasive, and I can't ignore his photographic history of betrayal to his wife. Yet, he's attentive, kind, and broken in some regards. Reminds me of myself.

Despite the warning bells in my head, there's a magnetic pull to him that I can't resist. I know it's wrong, but being around him feels intoxicating. His presence, voice, and those piercing blue eyes pull me in despite my better judgment. I catch myself questioning his marriage, questioning the nature of his relationship with his wife. Maybe they're just cohabitating, not actually in love. I've been there. But I try to firmly remind myself that no good can come from us being together. Regardless of his situation, until he's completely untangled from his marriage, sex is off the table. Crossing that line would be a grave mistake. Nonetheless, I appreciate his respect and understanding and am grateful he's not pressing me for more. He's a true gentleman, and for now, that's where we'll leave it.

I don't know how I'm getting this man out of my head tonight. I need to find more friends, preferably women, to help me navigate the chaos. With a sigh, I call it a night, eager to end this day and the nonsense that came with it.

The next day, I woke up feeling a pang of regret about how I spoke to Fitz last night. But his possessive nature is impossible to overlook. We must seriously discuss how to maintain our friendship and establish clear boundaries.

I grab my phone off the nightstand, and a text from Fitz greets me.

Fitz: Good morning, dear. I just wanted you to know that you were the first thing I thought about this morning. I hope you have a wonderful day. XOXOX

As I reread his text over and over again, all I can do is smile. It's been a long time since a man has made me smile just at the mere thought of him.

I get up, prepare for the day, and head to the studio. As I open the front door, I feel excited and nervous. There's still so much work to be done, but I can see it all coming together, and it is going to be a warm and inviting space for me to welcome guests, clients, and students.

I turn on classical piano music and dive right into work, shifting furniture and boxes into the storage room or up against the far wall to make way for tomorrow's flooring. I didn't plan on adding this additional expense, but I want everything to look perfect.

As I spend the next few hours working away, I get the impulsive thought to run home, shower, and bring Fitz something to eat for lunch. I know he's busy today, but if I don't see him, at least he would know I stopped by and thought of him.

I rush home, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins. In a frenzy, I shower and change, barely able to contain my excitement. Without wasting a moment, I dash back out the door.

Along the way to the hotel, I make a quick pit stop at the charming sandwich shop just around the corner. I don't know him well enough to understand his tastes, so I grab an array of sandwiches, hoping that at least one will catch his fancy.

As I step into the grand lobby of the Grant Hotel, I'm greeted by lavish decor, from sparkling chandeliers to lush velvet furnishings, creating an ambiance of sophisticated elegance. It must cost a fortune to stay here. Approaching the front desk, I say shyly, "Hello, My name is Olivia Pope, and I'm here to see Mr. Grant if he's available. I don't have an appointment."

The beautiful woman at the desk says, "Yes, he spoke with us this morning. Dylan here will take you up."

"Thank you so much." We get up to the 16th floor, and I am taken to an older woman who's neatly and professionally dressed. She speaks in a kind tone, "Ms. Pope. Welcome to the Grant Hotel. Follow me, please." I'm surprised by all the fanfare, but it's a warm welcome nonetheless.

His presence captivates me when I see him dressed to the nines in a perfectly tailored, three-piece black suit. The sleek fabric clings to his form, accentuating every contour of his muscular body. He looks absolutely irresistible, setting my senses ablaze and sending my hormones into a frenzy.

"Liv, I can't believe you're here. Thank you, Carol," he says, excusing her.

"What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you."

"Well... I may have been a little harsh with you last night, and I didn't want you to leave and have tension between us, so I brought you lunch as a peace offering. I won't waste your time; I know you're busy. I just...wanted to see you before you left."

"Another first for me. A woman is bringing me lunch to work. I think I could get used to this." He reached into his pocket to pull out cash.

"Fitz, you better not."

"I figured, but I had to try," he says, a smile crosses his beautiful face.

"Come here," he says, taking the bag from me, setting it on the desk, and wrapping his arms around me. "I feel like I should apologize again..."

"You don't need to apologize; you already have. I should apologize. I feel like a bum. Everyone here is dressed nicely, and I come in with a sweater, jeans, and boots on."

"You look stunning in anything," he exclaims, pressing his lips against mine. Instead of a quick peck on the cheek, his kiss is passionate and intense. My heart races as everything seems to be moving at lightning speed.

Just then, the door flies open. I turn around quickly and jump out of Fitz's arms. The man standing there is strikingly handsome and looks very similar to Fitz. He also has piercing blue eyes and dark, neatly styled hair. He stands there with an air of confidence and sophistication, in a blue tailored suit similar to Fitz's.

He stands there looking at me with a surprised expression, and his mouth slightly opened.

"Come in and close the door," Fitz says as he pours himself a drink. "Either of you want a drink?" The man stands there, still staring at me. "Andrew, stop being rude. Olivia, this is my brother Andrew."

He extends his hand out for me to shake, still unable to speak. Finally, he says, "Yes, I'm Andrew, and you are...Olivia."

"Yep, that's me. Nice to meet you." I say, unsure why he continues to stare at me with such intensity.

"You were right, Fitz."

"He was right about what?" I say, confused.

"You are quite a beauty. The face of an angel." He said with a twinkle in his eye, making me blush. I can't help but notice how charming and handsome he is. He takes another step closer, standing less than a foot away. "I don't know if Fitz mentioned me, but I'm his younger brother and single," he said, flashing a smile that could melt hearts.

Fitz whips his head around, "Andrew!"

"Sorry," he says with a mischievous grin. I can't help but chuckle at his charm. Clearly, he's the more light-hearted and playful of the two brothers. His eyes flicker to the bag resting on the table. "So, what's on the menu for lunch?" he asks, taking my hand and leading me to the table before pulling out a chair for me. It's surreal to have both of these men doting on me like this. I could get used to this attention.

"You're not having anything. I just wanted you to meet Olivia, and now you can leave."

'Fitz, don't be like that. There's plenty of food here. Andrew, you are welcome to stay if you like." I say while I unpack the several sandwiches I bought.

"No, actually, he is not." With his demeanor turning cold, Fitz says, "He's leaving, right Andrew?"

"She said I could stay." Fitz gives him a firm look. "But, I guess I have work to do, so I better go." He says, drooping his head down and putting his hands in his pockets. "Well, Olivia, it was a delight to meet you, and I hope I get to see you again real soon. You know, Fitz is kind of a boring guy. If you're ever looking for a little excitement or a tour of the city..."

"Andrew, get the hell out! Now!"

"Yep." He walks out quickly, closing the door behind him.

"So, that's your brother?" I say with a smirk on my face.

"Yes, that's him. Can't pick your family." He says, shaking his head.

"You can say that again, but I like him."

"Oh, do you? More than me?" He says, looking at me seductively.

"I don't know either of you well enough to say that."

"Well, we'll have to change that." I can see a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

As we sit and eat lunch, we talk about his upcoming trip. "So, are you going to take in any of the sites?"

"I don't plan on it. I've been a couple of times. Have you?

"No, I've never been to Paris."

"I'd be more than happy to take you some time."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Fitz says, his fork pausing mid-air. I feel his gaze on me, and when I look up, I see a mix of emotions in his eyes—anxiety, gratefulness, and maybe even a hint of vulnerability. "Fitz, you okay?" I ask, concerned.

"I just can't believe I've met someone like you," he says softly. "I'm so glad you walked over to my table that night, and I'm thankful you forgave me for my rudeness." Before I can respond, there's another knock at the door. Fitz yells, "Andrew, go away!"

The door creeps open, and a beautiful woman steps in. Her piercing gaze locks onto me, and it's like being caught in the sights of a lioness on the prowl. What the hell is her problem? The more I look at her, the more I recognize that look. I've seen it a thousand times before. Her interest in him is evident as she confidently moves closer to him. Her curves are accentuated with every step, and she's batting those mesmerizing green eyes at him a mile a minute. I feel a surge of jealousy and defensiveness rising within me, and I don't know why.

"Mr. Grant. Sorry to interrupt," she purrs, her voice dripping with seduction. "I just wanted to know if you're ready to go over the details of our trip. I also need you to sign these forms so I can send them over."

"Sure. Excuse me one moment, Liv," he responds, standing up and taking the papers over to his desk. As he's bent down, going through the small stack of paper and signing, she glances at me several times, her eyes shooting daggers.

He's going to Paris with her? I just smile. It's clear their relationship goes beyond professional. No one gets as agitated as she looks over someone having lunch with their boss.

As I saw him conversing with the woman, a wave of self-doubt and frustration washed over me. I try to maintain a composed expression, but inside, I feel a whirlwind of emotions. He easily restrained himself from sleeping with me because he knew he had her. The thought makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I can't help but feel foolish. I'm sure he's surrounded by a harem of women, all at his beck and call, and I'm just another name he wants to add to the list. It feels like Edison all over again. I was always the last to know.

Why would he bother spending time with me? Why would he waste his time and mine? I refuse to be just another woman in his collection, sharing him with every other beautiful woman he encounters.

As they finish their conversation, Fitz casually asks her to close the door on her way out. He swiftly turns his attention to me, and with a charming smile, he says, "I'm sorry about that, hun."

Hun? Seriously? "It's fine. You're working." The silence hangs heavy in the air as he resumes eating. I know I shouldn't say anything, but I'm seething with irritation and can't hold back any longer. "So... you're going to Paris with her. She's gorgeous. You should have a good time," I blurt out.

He looks at me, confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm just saying you should have a good time." I say with a smile, taking another bit of my food without looking up at him.

"I'm not going there for a good time. I'm going there to work."

"If you say so."

He tilts his head slightly to the left before saying, "That's exactly what I said, and that's the truth."

As we sit in silence, I struggle to find the right words. I can't shake the thought of him being intimate with her. I was in such a great mood when I arrived, but now, not so much. It's baffling to me that I feel any emotion at all. Can one refuse a man and expect him not to seek affection elsewhere? Especially when he is in the city of love with a woman as stunning as her. I don't have the right to say anything because he's not mine.

"Liv, you alright? You're so quiet." He says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I should go." I've completely lost my appetite. I start cleaning up my food, unable to look him in the face.

"Wait a minute. What's wrong? A second ago, you were your chipper self; now you're shutting down."

"I'm fine. I'll go so you guys can work. I don't want to be in the way."

"Liv, wait." I stop dead in my tracks as I pick up my purse. "Are you upset about my assistant?" he says curiously.

You damn right. I'm upset about your assistant and all the other women I'm sure you have in your harem. "No, I just have things to do." He stands up and walks around the table, gently grabbing my hand. He guides me to the couch in his office and sits me down. "Liv, you don't need to worry about her if you are. We have a professional relationship, and that's all."

Yeah, so that look of jealousy on her face was what? "You don't owe me an explanation. You don't owe me anything. You're not mine. We're just friends." I still find it challenging to look at him.

"Liv, please don't be like that. You know you and I are more than friends. I want more than that."

"Well, that's impossible," I stated firmly, attempting to rise from my seat. His grip tightened on my hand, forcing me back down with a sense of urgency.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you." His voice grew more stern as his eyes turned colder. "I'm not interested in Alexis for anything other than her doing her job; that's it."

I couldn't help but wonder what her job description actually entailed. Was sleeping with the boss a requirement? It's always the same with men. I could feel my eyes starting to well up with tears, but I forced them back. Why do I care so much? "I should leave," I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You are not leaving here like this. I cannot be 3,000 miles away and have you worrying about whether I'm sleeping with another woman."

"I'm not worried about you sleeping with other women. That's your business. You're not sleeping with me, so it's expected."

"Why are you talking like this? Liv, I'm surrounded by beautiful women all day. There is not a day that goes by that I don't see a beautiful woman, but that doesn't mean I'm screwing all of them." He slides closer to me. "You make me laugh and smile, and most importantly, you understand me. You are irreplaceable to me. And let's not forget, you're stunning. I don't need anyone else when I have you."

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

He lets out a huff. "What the hell! You're punishing me for something I haven't even done! Do you think I need to take a woman I see every day to Paris to sleep with her? You know I have the penthouse here. I could have taken her right up there at any time if that's what I wanted, but I haven't."

"Do whatever you want."

"This is bullshit, and you're a hypocrite, but fine. While I'm in Paris, you can worry about me screwing Alexis, and I'll worry about you screwing Jake. So, I guess we'll both be stressed the hell out." He says sternly while letting my hand go, turning away from me, and crossing his legs.

I stand up and turn to him, "How am I a hypocrite?"

"You're running around with a man that you used to fuck and telling me I shouldn't worry about it. At the same time, I know he changes women like I change my underwear, but you're ready to walk out on me because a woman who works for me is beautiful. You're a hypocrite."

Who the hell is he talking to like this? "Why are you worried about Jake? I told you nothing was going on."

"I know him! You may think you do, but you don't! So, yes, I have a very valid reason to be worried. You do not. Jake wants you, and I know from the way he looked at me he knows I want you, too. Which means he will do whatever is necessary to have you."

"So, I'm not supposed to have friends? He's literally the only friend I really have here."

"I'm your friend. Liv…I'm not saying you can't have friends. How could I? All I'm saying is..."

"You can galivant around the world with whomever you choose, and I can't have one friend. Mind you, a friend I've known for years. I've known you for, like, what, four days? Are you serious?"

"Why are you being so difficult?"

"Difficult." I was ready to say something else and decide against it. "This was a mistake coming here; I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll let you and your assistant get back to work."

"Fine. Leave! You're driving me insane! I don't know what the hell you want from me!"

"I don't want anything from you!"

"I have bent over backward to appease you, and still, you treat me like garbage."

"I'm treating you like garbage? You know what? Don't worry about me anymore. I won't bother you. Just leave me alone." I get up and walk out, slamming the door behind me.

I hear him yell, "Fine!" as I make my way back up to the front desk. I can see everyone staring at me in shock, but I don't care. I'm done.

I return to the sunlit studio, and rather than focusing on the opening, I am drawn to a blank canvas. I envision the bustling streets of New York City, the sounds, the vibrant colors, and the city's energy on the canvas. This is where I will work out my frustration. As the hours pass, I lose myself in the painting, blending rich cobalt blues and fiery reds to capture the city's essence.

Night begins to fall, and I decide to call it a day and make my way home, still weary from the day's events. After a long, soothing bath that melts away the tension from my body, I savor the rich taste of a glass of red wine, letting its warmth envelop me. I settle onto the plush couch, losing myself in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The memory of the heated argument with Fitz replays repeatedly in my mind, each word and emotion vivid and raw. It's our first real fight, and it leaves me feeling shaken.

I sink deeper into the comfort of the couch, wrestling with the unsettling truth that I care about a man who sees me as nothing more than a conquest way more than I should. Is he sweet, kind, and generous with me? Sure, but it's not genuine, and I can't allow myself to be so foolish as to fall for it.

Amidst the comfortable quiet, my phone chimes, and the screen lights up with a text from Fitz.

Fitz: In case you care,I just left New York. I should make it to Paris sometime around 7 am your time.

Why is he texting me about his schedule? I don't care. I toss my phone down, but within a minute, another text arrives. I resist the urge to check it, but curiosity wins out. I snatch up the phone and read the message.

Fitz: If I called you, would you answer?

No, I refuse to respond. I glare at his messages. I'm not giving in. He said I treated him like garbage, which is not true at all. Hell, I was only there today to bring him lunch. How is that treating him like garbage? I fling my phone back onto the couch. I down my glass of wine and get up to pour another when my phone pings again. When I return to the couch and take a deep breath, I pick up my phone to read the next message.

Fitz: I can only assume you must be with Jake, and that's why you're not responding. Are you in bed with him now?

Ugh! How insulting. This man is driving me up the wall! He has got some nerve, but two can play that game.

Olivia: Shouldn't you be screwing your assistant instead of texting me, or did you just finish?

When I hit the send button, a surge of regret overcame me. Why did I let my emotions get the best of me? Now, I seem just as jealous and irrational as he is. This man obviously can be very childish. Without warning, my phone rings, and it's him. Determined to avoid the confrontation, I let the call go to voicemail, knowing that I couldn't bear to actually speak to him.

Fitz: Answer the damn phone!

Olivia: No!

Fitz: You are acting like a brat, and my patience is wearing thin with you.

Olivia: You are acting like an asshole, and MY PATIENCE is gone.

My phone rings again, and I let it go to voicemail.

Olivia: I said no. You can't bully me into answering my phone.

Fitz: What did I do to you? What did I do that was so wrong?

As I stare at his questions, I feel a surge of conflicting emotions. He didn't do anything wrong, yet I can't seem to explain the turmoil brewing inside me. My eyes begin to water, and I'm grappling with my insecurities. What is my problem? Why am I so emotional? I feel a sense of brokenness and vulnerability that I'm not ready to confront. I'm not ready for a man like Fitz, not when I haven't even come to terms with my internal struggles. This whole situation is just too much. My phone pings once again.

Fitz: Please talk to me.

Olivia: We have nothing to talk about. Please, leave me alone.

Fitz: No, I won't. You don't know me, Olivia, but I don't chase women, certainly not to this extent, but I like you a lot. I can't let you go. If you tell me what's wrong, we can address it. I wish you would answer the phone.

I've learned many good things about Fitz over the past few days, but I just can't trust him. I can't take a chance on having my heart broken by a married playboy. That's just asking for trouble.

Olivia: Fitz, I'm sorry things went so badly today, but I need to focus on why I came to New York, which was to get my life together. You are a distraction; nothing good can come from you trying to make me one of your mistresses.

Fitz: That's not true. We have done nothing wrong. I have done nothing wrong. I am not trying to make you my mistress. My life is complicated right now. I can't change my situation overnight, but that doesn't mean things will always be this way. Can we just talk? Please. This is impossible to do through text.

Olivia: Fitz, I wish you luck with your business trip, and I hope everything works out for you. You deserve it. Please, just forget about me.

After rejecting two more of his calls, I decide to block his number. Tears stream down my face, and I feel like I've lost a man I've loved my whole life. This is insane.

The following day, I woke up to my doorbell ringing. I check the clock, and it says 5:30 am. Who the hell is at my door this early in the morning? I groggily get out of bed and head to the intercom. "Who is it?"

"Freshfood Delivery. We have a package for you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't order anything. You have the wrong apartment."

"Olivia Pope. Are you Olivia Pope?"

I didn't order anything. I try to remember any subscriptions I set up when I moved here, but I can't recall any. Shit, I hope my credit card didn't get automatically billed for some trial I may have signed up for. "Fine, come on up."

I opened the door and waited for the delivery guy. Once he reaches my door, he has five large boxes of food. "Please sign here."

I look at the paperwork, and sure enough, it says Olivia Pope. I look at the price on the slip. $625.54! What the hell? I begrudgingly signed the paperwork, and he handed me the receipt with a note. "What is this?"

"There was a note for you attached to the order. He brings the boxes in, and I point him to the kitchen. Standing by the door, I open the note.

Good Morning Liv,

The last time I was there, I couldn't help but notice that the frig was practically empty. I mean, seriously, how do you survive with no food in the place? Anyway, I bought a few groceries for you. Please make sure to eat while I'm away.

- Love Fitz

P.S.

I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me.

"Love Fitz? Why would he sign love Fitz? This man just won't take no for an answer. Looking at his note, I can't believe he had groceries delivered to my door. It was a small gesture, but it made me smile. Even though I didn't want to admit it, his thoughtfulness touched me. He was right. My frig was bare. I usually just ate a bite on the way to and from work. I'm not fond of cooking.

I thought last night that would be the last time I ever talked to him, but this man has no quit in him. I know eventually, I will have to talk to him to let him down, but I also know I will likely get emotional and make a fool of myself. Despite my mixed feelings, I couldn't deny that Fitz's actions had created a tangle of emotions within me.

The boxes of groceries sitting in my kitchen seemed to symbolize his persistent presence in my life, and I couldn't help but wonder what it meant for us. Despite my attempts to push him away, a part of me yearned for his affection and attention. It's been so long for me. Was I really willing to let go of someone willing to chase me still, even when I had shut him out?"