Page 4 of The Senator's Rival

This was easy. This was so easy. She was used to having people eat out of the palm of her hand, and despite her anxiety this morning, Margot felt perfectly at ease now that she was back in her element. A little conversation here, a few well-placed suggestions there, and people practically threw their support at her.

By the end of the evening, Margot was feeling high on the buzz of it all, absolutely on cloud nine. She had a wide smile on her lips and was laughing easily and often as she and William made their exit. Tonight had gone splendidly. They were on top of the world. Nothing was going to stop her.

3

FRANCESCA

Francesca stepped out onto the balcony of the elegant venue, enjoying the fresh air after being inside for so long. The American Veterans Ball in D.C. was a yearly event, attended by various government officials and wealthy philanthropists in the city. It was an event where political adversaries could come together in honor of the service members who had given so much for the safety of the country. Therefore, it was one of the rare events where everyone managed to be civil.

And if you were cynical, it was easy good press. But Francesca didn't like to be cynical. At her core, she was an idealist, and had always wanted politics to be more about principles and less about appearance and popularity contests. Those core beliefs had been slowly eroded by more than a decade of serving in the Senate and seeing the harsh realities of the system. Now Francesca recognized that some degree of pragmatism and cynicism was simply an unfortunate necessity. That didn't mean she liked it, though.

As Francesca stood outside in her floor-length, midnight blue gown, idly tracing her fingers along the smooth metal railing, her gaze fell onto the familiar silhouette of a woman who thrived while playing the game of politics- Margot Smith- the snake in the grass. She seemed to glide across the room in an elegant, modest cream gown, exchanging smiles, hugs, handshakes, and chatter with everyone she passed. An attractive mild-mannered man wearing an expensive-looking, well-tailored suit trailed dutifully behind her--a handsome accessory that complemented the whole picture.

Francesca had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she observed Margot Smith effortlessly swanning around the room, flitting between potential donors and supporters. It was no surprise to anyone that the Virginian congresswoman had been named her party's official nominee. Still, Francesca couldn't help find it just a little bit disappointing. To her, it seemed so clear that Margot’s entire persona was inauthentic. Her platform centered on wooing as many people as possible, shifting with the tides to suit whatever narrative best aligned with her goals. In short, Margot represented everything Francesca detested in politics.

People ate it up, though. They saw Margot’s admittedly very beautiful face and her winning smile. They heard sweet nothings about prosperity and they believed her. Not everyone, but quite possibly enough people to make the difference in a close election. The conservative base adored Margot. The rural families in red states loved her and the religious right held up Margot as the ideal representative of their values.

And in real life, here in front of Francesca for the first time, she couldn’t deny that Margot Smith in that elegant cream gown was stunning. If she wasn’t such a snake, she might be exactly Francesca’s type.

Still. Francesca couldn't just stand and stare all night. The polite thing to do would be to go over and say hello to her opponent. Francesca’s mouth momentarily twisted into a wry grimace as she pushed away from the railing, but she composed herself and smiled brightly as she returned to the lavish ballroom. Making her way through the room, Francesca shook hands with a few guests, thanking the members of the military for their service and expressing admiration for their bravery and dedication to the country's welfare. Throughout every interaction her sincerity was clear, and the men and women in uniform responded with corresponding warmth and humility.

Eventually, Francesca made her way to where Margot stood, by one of the tall windows overlooking the courtyard. As she approached, Margot glanced her way and quirked an eyebrow, smiling like the sun.

Something about that made Francesca's skin feel warm, even in the crisp autumn chill. Nobody, no matter what they might think about Margot’s political platform or general snakelike approach to life, could claim that she was anything less than strikingly beautiful. And up close, even more so. Margot’s hair appeared to be spun out of silk, her pale skin was nearly flawless, but for the minimal lines showing her age. Her blue eyes were clear and luminous, and the delicate cream gown accentuated the lovely lines of her body perfectly without revealing anything beyond what was proper and tasteful.

“Senator Thurston,” she proclaimed with her usual drawl, extending her hand in greeting. “What a pleasure to see you. I am so looking forward to these next few months.”

Francesca shook her hand, noting that the her opponent’s grip was strong, but her skin was incredibly soft. “Likewise, Congresswoman,” she replied warmly. “It's an honor to be running against such a formidable candidate.”

Margot laughed, creating a sound that was perfectly pitched and carried just enough music to be pleasing to the ear. Both women were all smiles as they chatted casually about their families and the primary race. This was all for show, of course. It was good press for them both to be seen getting along and showing respect for one another. It gave the public a sense that they were working for the greater good. Unity and bipartisanship, and all those other values that immediately fell apart whenever one side of the aisle tried to push an actual piece of legislation, which affected real people.

Once a few photos had been taken and reporters had jotted down notes for later stories, Francesca and Margot politely broke apart to find their respective tables before the event officially started. There were speeches to be given, awards to be presented, and plenty of toasting to go around. Francesca took a seat next to Marcus, Juliet, and some of the other Boston bigwigs who had joined her at the table. She listened intently as the evening's host began the program with a warm introduction.

“Was that as painful as it looked?” Marcus muttered quietly, casting a glance toward Margot’s table, where she sat with her husband and team. “I'm pretty sure she wanted to shoot daggers out of her eyes at you the whole time.”

Francesca kept her face carefully neutral and pleasant, not taking her eyes off the stage. On the inside, she was stifling a laugh at her brother's colorful description. It wasn't inaccurate. Those icy blue eyes were warm and friendly at first, but sometimes, looking at Margot was like staring into the eyes of a tiger about to pounce. There was a level of barely restrained ferocity behind her--a hunger to devour anything that dared to get in her way. That same intensity permeated every aspect of the congresswoman's aura. She had clawed her way to the top by any means necessary. It would be foolish to think that Margot would suddenly have a change of heart and play nice, not when she was so close to victory.

“If only her feelings were as obvious to the voters,” Francesca whispered dryly in response.

They turned their attention to the speaker, listening to her impassioned speech about duty and sacrifice, about protecting the freedoms granted to them by the brave men and women in the military. They applauded when appropriate and raising their glasses when it was time to toast. There were more speeches during dinner, which was followed by dessert and drinks. Slowly, people began rising from their seats to mingle, socialize, dance, and network with each other. Francesca lingered at her table for a moment, sipping her wine and speaking quietly with the other people who had accompanied her. Soon, Juliet decided it was time for Francesca to stop standing on ceremony and to do the rounds.

“That's Suzannah Warren, the CEO of the Warren Media Group,” Juliet told Francesca in a low voice, pointing discreetly at a redhead speaking to someone in uniform. “Her family has been strictly conservative for generations, but there are rumors that she wants to take things in a more progressive direction now that she's in charge. Suzannah’s husband was in the Navy. You met him several years ago at a fundraiser in San Diego. He passed away from a heart attack two years ago.”

“Got it,” Francesca confirmed, heading toward the two women, who smiled politely as Francesca approached.

“Ah, Senator Thurston!” Suzannah exclaimed with a wide smile. She extended her hand to shake Francesca's with a strong grip. “What an honor it is to have you here tonight. It's so good to see our leaders supporting the troops.”

“The honor is mine, Mrs. Warren,” Francesca insisted sincerely, tilting her head with an air of genuine modesty. “I wouldn't miss an opportunity to thank the people who serve to protect this nation. Your husband was a naval officer himself, wasn't he?”

“He was, yes,” the redhead confirmed. “Served this nation for twenty-two years.”

“I was fortunate enough to meet him in San Diego a few years ago. A truly courageous and admirable man,” she responded graciously. “My deepest condolences for your loss, once again.”

“I appreciate that, Senator. Thank you,” Suzannah replied with a warm smile. “My husband is sorely missed. He would be honored to know that you remembered him.”

She turned to introduce the tall woman at her side, a stern-looking individual with long, strawberry-blonde hair tied back into a severe bun. Francesca politely thanked her for her service, and for a few minutes, they discussed her experiences in the Navy and the current economic challenges facing today’s veterans. This wasn't Francesca's core platform, but she was genuinely passionate about making sure that veterans received adequate care and resources. Her conviction came across with clarity and passion.

However, it didn't take long before Margot Smith slithered over to join the group. Of course. The Warrens had been major conservative donors for decades, so Margot had probably felt threatened when Francesca chatted with her. God forbid people interact cordially without turning it into a power struggle.

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