Nerves.

They were sliding up her spine, exploding across her flesh and filtering into her lungs with each breath.

This case would be different – like no other.

She knew this case would change her.

"You ready?" Elliot whispered into the hotel elevator at the four seasons and suddenly she was frozen. Her breath was stifled in the depths of her lungs and she felt faint. She wasn't ready, not for this.

But she didn't tell him that.

She never does.

Instead she nodded in his direction, careful not to capture the pools of blue because it wouldn't bring comfort this time.

She felt his fingers, course yet warm as they slipped into hers and it wasn't the first time but she reacted as if it were. She jolted against his touch but slowly softened as his fingers intertwined with hers.

Her partner was perceptive.

She knew her trepidation hadn't escaped him but she was thankful for his silence.

There were no words of comfort or assurance, just a gentle squeeze of her palm before the elevator doors slid open.

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Later.

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Elliot saw her from across the room.

The canary yellow cocktail dress was a sting against his eyes.

There was a brightness that came to light when Olivia wore color. The caramel highlights in her hair twinkled, her chocolate pools became richer and the air in his chest felt tighter.

It scared him.

He wanted her in black, greys, jeans - leather. He wanted her in sensible shoes for a quick get away and a gun at her hip for security.

He wanted assurance.

Instead when he looked into her eyes in the elevator he saw hesitation, apprehension - uncertainly.

She was talking to a man that was standing unnecessarily close to her. She was smiling, laughing - periodically touching his forearm as she leaned into him.

Elliot's jaw clicked.

He noticed her anxiety was nowhere to be seen now and it was like a switch had been flicked somewhere.

She was on.

It didn't ease the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

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A waiter interrupted Olivia's conversation with the man.

Her eyes drifted across to the silver platter that housed the two champagne glasses. She watched as he lifted two from the platter and extended one her way.

She took it gracefully and the clink of glasses echoed in her ears.

She sipped - just once, the fizzy bitterness lacing her tongue but it was just for show. She would nurse it, feign further sips until she found a discrete place to set it down.

She wanted to drain it.

"I'm Jack," the tall man with grey eyes told her and despite his conventional good looks there was an awkwardness to him.

He wasn't their guy.

"Olivia," she returned with a polite smile before she excused herself and headed towards her partner.

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"Charlie," the petite woman in front of Elliot responded.

Her voice was deeper than he'd expected and her short blonde locks shone under the down lights.

Her skin was tanned from the sun not a bottle, her green eyes twinkled and her forearms were toned. She looked like she worked out.

She was staring at him as her finger twirled the strawberry round and round the glass before she sucked on the dampness.

He felt the energy.

Predatory, aggressive – masculine almost.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

He noticed his partner approaching from behind Charlie and they locked eyes. He could tell Olivia caught his relief from her impending interruption.

He expected her to stop in between the two of them and join the conversation but instead she moved in close to Elliot, an arm snaking into his.

She held his forearm as she clasped her champagne glass in her other.

It almost felt territorial.

He watched the blonde girls eyes move across to Olivia's tracing, assessing, analysing. He wondered what is like for women, if they get as lost in Olivia's beauty as men do.

"Charlie," Elliot's voice was suddenly gravely. "This is my wife Olivia."

The words resounded in his mind, echoing another time, another life perhaps.

Charlie didn't speak, she just continued to run her eyes over Olivia's features until they dipped downward roaming over the bronze of her cleavage, appreciatively.

Approvingly.

He felt Olivia shift uncomfortably on the spot.

"Nice to meet you Olivia."

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They sat in a circle.

Shag skin carpet tickled Olivia's thighs.

She tucked her legs under her body as gracefully as possible and her hand reached out clutching the empty bottle of Dom Perignon.

There was tension in the room, the distant drone of classical music radiating from the hotel speakers.

Her heart thumped and she closed her eyes.

She spun the bottle once and her stomach turned.

It swiped past Jack, Charlie, a red headed woman she hasn't been introduced to yet, Rodney the host of the party, Elliot, then herself before it skittered around full circle again and again.

It landed on Jack.

She watched his eyes light up at the notion and her stomach flipped.

She sat back on her legs and didn't dare chance a glance at Elliot. She pretended he wasn't in the room. It was the only way she could do this.

Jack was sitting to her left so it didn't take long for their lips to brush. She hesitated only slightly before she closed her mouth over his.

She felt every eye in the room on her right now as Jack deepened the kiss, a hand coming up and coating the side of her cheek.

He was soft with her.

She tasted the champagne on his tongue and it was the only part of it she enjoyed.

She didn't let it last long before she pulled back, taking a breath and running a hand absently through her shoulder length curls.

She still couldn't look at Elliot.

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"My turn," Charlie's voice broke through the drone of quiet chatter and Elliot didn't know why, but he tensed.

He was still thinking about that pricks lips on his partner and how well she just handled herself.

She was calm, collected – yet his insides felt like they were on fire.

She still hadn't looked at him but he could see the flush in her cheeks, the pink swell of her lips and he ignored that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He watched the bottle spin chaotically from Charlie's force, round and round, flipping off it's axis until it started to taper down.

It came to a slow in front of his bent knees but inched a little further, halting directly between him and Olivia.

His eyes flicked up to Charlie before they darted across to Olivia.

It was directly between them.

He was questioning Olivia with his eyes and she narrowed hers in warning. Don't you dare.

"Looks like we have a tie," Charlie mused.

Elliot pulled his eyes away from Olivia's heated stare.

"Spin again," he tried to sound flippant but his voice cracked slightly.

Charlie shook her head and started to crawl towards the bottle until it stopped between her legs.

Elliot eyes dipped unconsciously down to her cleavage, the neckline of her burgundy dress dipped low enough that he could see the base of her black bra. Her breasts were modest yet firm but had nothing on Olivia's.

His gaze moved back up to see Charlie was no longer eyeing the bottle – she was watching him copping an eyeful.

He didn't miss a beat.

"It's closer to my wife."

The words came out before he could stop himself but it was closer. Marginally.

He was still going to hell.

He could feel Olivia seething beside him and Charlie's green eyes sparkled in response as they flicked across to Olivia.

He felt his partner panicking. He was dead. He was fucking dead.

"It's even," Olivia's voice was low, measured and she was a damn pro at masking the anger that he was certain was bubbling within.

Charlie's face morphed into a wicked smile until her eyes moved back to his.

"Then I get you both."

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TBC