Page 13 of The Senator's Rival

Now, a week later, it was as if nothing had happened at all. Another day, another speech, another campaign stop, another press conference, another rally, another fundraiser. Margot smiled at photographers, shook hands with supporters, hugged children, and delivered polished, eloquent speeches in every state and county listed in her busy itinerary.

The debate had been a wash—some of the undecided voters had been swayed by Francesca's passionate ideals and sincere conviction, while others had been drawn to Margot's cunning strategy and assertive confidence. The polls showed an almost perfect 50/50 split between them. That simply wouldn't do. Margot needed to strike fast and hard. She needed a game changer. An attack that would rattle Francesca to her core, leaving the public questioning everything they thought they knew about her.

“Is this really necessary, Margie?” William questioned as they sat down for breakfast at their rented apartment in Arlington near the campaign headquarters. “It's risky. Maybe we should table it until the next debate. See if we can edge out a lead without resorting to the big guns.”

Margot took a sip of black coffee, leveling an unimpressed glare at her husband across the table. She folded her paper placidly, carefully putting it aside and fixing him with a solemn gaze. She didn't like being questioned, especially not by her own partner in crime. William was useful. He was obedient, deferential, and supportive, and he came from a very wealthy family with strong political ties, which gave her a natural boost in connections and resources. She had always been the mastermind, though, and that was what had gotten them here. His protests were irritating.

“Do you have any ideas to win this election?” she asked coldly, raising an eyebrow. “'Wait and see' isn't going to get us to the White House, Will. We did that with Bennett, and it almost cost me the nomination. I'm not taking that chance. I know what I'm doing.”

It had been unfortunate, really, having to throw Tim under the bus like that. They had served together in Congress for many years and he was an esteemed member of her party. Smart, dependable, charismatic, wise, and cunning. It hadn't come as a surprise that Tim was ahead in the early primary elections. He was exactly the kind of person their voter base liked- having a penis also helped his cause- and even many voters on the left admired his experience and charm. At least, until the rumors about him accepting illegal campaign funds began and his popularity plummeted overnight. Tragic, really. Such a darn shame he got in her way.

Margot had to work harder than him and be better, purely for the fact of her being a woman. But, she was used to that, and she knew she was brilliant. She could do this.

“But you didn't lose, Margie,” William pointed out cautiously. “We're not that desperate yet. We can afford to be strategic and play this out slowly. If this backfires, you end up looking duplicitous and conniving. We don't want that kind of mud slung our way. You've worked too hard to earn everyone's trust for that to disappear because of rash decisions.”

“Where is this sudden lack of faith coming from?” Margot demanded, voice calm but her words cutting and threatening all the same. “We've been playing this game for twenty years, Will. Don't tell me you've suddenly gone and developed a moral compass, now of all times. This has been a long time coming and we need to finish what we started.”

“Margie,” he said with a sigh, reaching out to put a comforting hand over hers. “You've been on edge all week. It isn't like you to throw caution to the wind like this when it isn't absolutely necessary. I just?—”

“It is absolutely necessary,” she cut back, glowering at him. “Francesca Thurston is gaining traction too quickly. She's smart, determined, and a formidable adversary. People just love her natural charisma. All that passion and energy. She's like this flawless, diamond-bright star shining down on the common folk, making them believe in impossible things. I hate that woman, William. I want her out of the picture. Now.”

Margot clenched her fist, trying to steady her breathing. Her tone was tinged with unmasked loathing. Ever since that night at the hotel. Just thinking about her opponent's smug face, her silky black hair, full lips, and winning smile felt like being taunted during every interview. The memories filled Margot with burning rage. Flashbacks to how good she had tasted, how much Margot had enjoyed having Francesca and her beautiful body under her spell. Her clear brown eyes looking up obediently as she submitted to Margot. How absolutely turned on Margot had been when Francesca came hot and hard on her command.

Stop it, Margot!

Francesca Thurston was getting under her skin, and that was unacceptable. She needed her out of the equation entirely. Right now.

“What's gotten into you?” William sighed, giving his wife a weary look. “Look, I get that you're frustrated. I am, too. But you're usually more pragmatic than this. There's no use stirring up a hornet's nest unless there's no other choice. I'm with you. You know that. But I don't see why we should pull this trigger so recklessly right now.”

Margot took a deep breath, nodding thoughtfully as she composed herself. Will had a point. This wasn't normal behavior. In all her years in the game, she had never been one to panic and act hastily, not even as a young congresswoman facing her first real contest. Margot had never felt a fire like this burning in her before. The fury, the resentment, the overwhelming need to destroy someone she couldn't stop thinking about. Politics didn't get personal for Margot. She had always been driven solely by clear reasoning, cool calculation, and careful logic.

It was just the high stakes of it all, she told herself. Every moment of her life had led to this moment, and in a few months, she would know whether that had all been in vain. Thirty years of relentless dedication to a singular goal, building a pedestal higher and higher, and it all culminated in this. In Margot versus that infuriating, captivating progressive who had no business standing in her way. It wasn't about Francesca personally. Of course it wasn't. That would be ludicrous. It was pure professional pride, and the drive to achieve success. Nothing more.

One of them would become the first female president of the United States and Margot knew it had to be her.

“Fine. We'll discuss it with the team at the meeting later, see what they think,” Margot finally relented, rising to her feet and straightening her jacket. “I can't promise anything, but we'll see. Let's head to the office.”

William followed her dutifully as Margot swept out of the door and into the car, ready for another morning briefing before they made their next round of appearances. She flipped through her paperwork, preparing for the upcoming events with practiced efficiency. During the entire fifteen-minute trip, Margot found herself struggling to compose her thoughts. Her mind kept drifting away from campaign strategies and onto Francesca.

Francesca’s lovely full breasts moving as Margot fucked her. The way Francesca’s body had opened up for her and beckoned her in.

The exquisite pleasure Margot had felt as she ground down on Francesca’s face to take her own orgasm. How much she had enjoyed feeling Francesca lick her clean afterwards.

Lord. Why did it have to be so good?

Damn it, this wasn't supposed to have happened. Why was that woman still haunting her this much? Margot was good at pushing aside her personal feelings. It was a necessity of this profession, and she had mastered the technique long ago. There wasn't any room for doubt or hesitation. Not while she was fighting tooth-and-nail for this presidency.

Still, the image of Francesca's beautiful naked body lingered in her memory, imprinted on her eyelids so vividly that she could see it even when she squeezed her eyes shut. The feel of soft, smooth skin against hers, the tang of sweat and sex in the air, the rich earthy scent of Francesca's perfume still lingering in her nose. What was wrong with her? How could one stupid mistake have rattled her so badly?

By the time they got downtown to the campaign headquarters in the modern high-rise, Margot’s mood was absolutely foul. The last thing she wanted to deal with was her idiot campaign manager and the pathetic interns who ran her social media accounts. Charlotte, her chief political strategist, was probably the only person she could stand. Charlotte was a brilliant young woman in her early thirties who had first worked as Margot's intern in Congress straight out of college, and had quickly proven herself. Ten years later, the fiery, ambitious redhead had earned the right to be part of Margot's inner circle.

The others were all incredibly skilled, naturally—Margot wouldn't hire anyone but the best—but they were also insufferable. Right now, Peter, the campaign manager, was self-indulgently droning on and on about how effective his efforts were, patting himself on the back for every pointless trick and tactic he'd managed to employ over the past weeks. The man acted like he was single-handedly responsible for all her gains in the polls, as if she were a puppet and he was pulling her strings. Disgusting little man.

She tried to tune out Peter’s blabbering as she perused the various emails, letters, and televised clips compiled by Tom, their lead data analyst, while the team debated how to approach the upcoming televised town hall meeting with their competition. Unfortunately, all Margot could seem to pay attention to was how distractingly good Francesca looked in this particular clip. That shade of green looked exquisite with her complexion, and the tasteful golden jewelry suited her regal features perfectly. Even from a low-quality YouTube video, Margot could tell that Francesca carried herself with elegance and authority, speaking with confidence and intelligence.

“Uh, Mrs. Smith, excuse me,” piped up a nervous voice from the doorway.

Margot blinked and composed herself, looking up at Michael, the handsome, boyish-looking blond who was in charge of publicity and outreach. She tilted her head, taking in the look of concern on his face. He rarely interrupted meetings, since he was constantly on the phone with some donor or event organizer somewhere across the country. Something was up.

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