Page 7 of The Senator's Rival

She hesitated, staring down at the photo, studying it pensively. This was exactly the kind of thing Francesca bloody Thurston didn't have to worry about. Nobody would care if some old girlfriend or one-night stand spilled embarrassing details of a drunken escapade. Sure, it might get some headlines for a week or so, but at the end of the day, it would be dismissed as a cute, if slightly embarrassing, anecdote from her wild youth. But for Margot, such a story would tank her career within hours.

Except, maybe it wouldn't. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then narrowed her eyes, distancing herself from the situation and looking objectively at the photo in front of her. It was a grainy scan of a blurry polaroid from twenty years ago. Her face was at an angle, making it almost impossible to recognize the individual features. Sure, it looked like her—it was her—but in that way where it also sort of looked like any other slender, mid-twenties blonde with conventionally attractive features.

Nobody would believe that Margot Smith, Virginia congresswoman, straight conservative Republican, former lawyer, congresswoman, and happily married paragon of traditional family values would sleep with a woman. Not unless she admitted to it. And why in the world would she do that?

She smiled to herself, shaking her head and handing the phone back to William.

“This is nothing,” she decided confidently, settling back in her chair and crossing her legs. “She has no proof of anything. The photo's practically useless.”

William raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “You freak out about me being so much as seen within a ten-yard radius of Tom at a public football game, but a photo of you half-naked with your mouth on a woman's neck is 'nothing'?” he retorted sarcastically.

“Yes,” she answered with a casual shrug. “The liberal media will go wild about it, I'm sure, but you can't make anything out in this picture except two girls, one of whom might slightly resemble me, messing around in a dimly lit room. Nobody important to our campaign is going to take that seriously. Honestly, it might be good for us.”

“Really?” William retorted incredulously with a snort. “I don't see how.”

“Of course you don't, darlin',” the blonde replied sweetly. “We will deny it's me, obviously. You and I have been together since college, madly in love and blah blah whatever, so of course I wasn't fooling around with anyone else. This is clearly an attempt by Thurston's campaign to damage my reputation with fake news and slander. That'll win us sympathy points and prove that she's resorting to lies and dirty tricks to win.”

She grinned triumphantly to herself, pleased with her own machinations. William gave a huff of laughter and leaned his head against the window, shaking his head.

“All right, Margie,” he agreed with a teasing grin. “Your call. But aren't you worried at all that there might be more of these photos hiding somewhere?”

A tense moment of silence passed. She bit her lip as her mind raced through scenarios and possible responses.

“Whomever sent this didn't give us any way to contact them,” she responded warily, “so if they want money, they'll have reach out again before taking anything to the press. For now, it just looks like an attempt to scare us into doing something stupid. Ignoring it is the safest option, unless we hear differently.”

Margot rested her elbow against the door and stared out the car window at the skyline drifting by as they made their way to the airport, her chin resting on her knuckles. It was a beautiful day, bright blue and clear with hardly a cloud in the sky. On the inside, however, despite her confident words, Margot’s mind whirred like a dark hurricane, trying to piece together those long-ago events and to figure out exactly whom this might be, and whether she had any reason to be scared.

“Let's schedule a stop at the arboretum in Baltimore before the rally,” Margot declared, leafing through her planner with a thoughtful frown. “Get some nice pictures of the two of us feeding the ducks, holding hands, all of that. Just in case.”

She shot her husband a pointed look. He understood what she meant. In case the scandal started to gain traction, Margot wanted to show that they were still the perfect, devoted couple with a loving relationship to prove it. He nodded, pulling out his phone again.

“All right. I'll make some calls and get it set up,” he affirmed with a grin.

If nothing else, Margot thought to herself, he was a good business partner. They had always worked well together when it counted. Theirs was an alliance rooted in mutual understanding and ambition, not in romantic affection, and it had worked. This was the life she had chosen for herself. Becoming the leader of the free world was worth sacrificing fleeting, frivolous pleasure. Margot wasn't going to let her life's dream be ruined by personal feelings.

So she pushed aside the strange, unpleasant knot that formed in her chest whenever she thought about her carefree youth, before she had locked it all away to focus on her goals. She dismissed the strange, envious thoughts she'd been having about Francesca, and wondering how it would feel to do the same.

Margot didn't have time to spare pondering trivial, insignificant matters. She was on her way to the White House. Anything else was immaterial.

5

FRANCESCA

The first official debate was going to be held in Chicago, in front of millions of TV viewers and thousands gathered live in the auditorium. Shortly before she was due to go on stage, Francesca stood in the dressing room with her team, doing a last-second rehearsal of talking points. Juliet was reviewing the cards on her laptop, going over statistics and figures, while the styling team was frantically fixing Francesca's hair and makeup.

The senator was seated at the vanity, listening intently as the campaign staff rattled off questions, issues, and topics that might come up onstage. Mostly, she remained silent and listened, intently focused on memorizing and internalizing the data being hurled at her. This was the first real opportunity for the candidates to come into direct confrontation with each other. Every statement, every facial expression, every subtle nuance of word choice during this debate would be dissected and picked apart by pundits and political analysts for weeks to come. One false move or misstatement could haunt Francesca for the rest of the campaign.

Margot Smith was formidable. There was no other word for it. Francesca admired the woman's iron will and ruthlessness, but God help anybody who stood in her way. Margot would do whatever it took to win, without so much as blinking an eye. Tonight, Francesca was anticipating an all-out assault. So far, she had managed to hold her own during the press interviews, and the polls were showing a slight advantage for her campaign, but all of that could change in a heartbeat. Just a few well-aimed arrows would be enough to fatally wound her candidacy. All Francesca could do was hold fast and strike back as best she could, without compromising her own integrity.

As soon as she heard the introduction music begin, signaling that it was almost time to take their places onstage, Francesca gave the stylist a polite nod of thanks and slipped on her suit jacket. Accompanied by Marcus and Juliet, she strode into the main hall, her shoulders squared and her head held high.

Margot stood on the opposite end of the stage, talking quietly with her husband and team, looking impossibly flawless in a perfectly fitted dove-gray pantsuit. Her hair was pinned into a tasteful twist, showing off her high cheekbones and elegant jawline. Her pale pink lips curled into a wide smile as Francesca met her eyes. The two women approached each other like circling lionesses, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

They stopped a few feet apart, momentarily holding each other's gaze. Francesca nodded in greeting and extended a hand. Margot mirrored the gesture. As their hands clasped, a surge of energy pulsed through the space between them. A bolt of electricity rippled up Francesca's spine at the touch of Margot’s soft, cool hand. It felt like her whole body had been shocked, her skin tingling from the contact. Margot blinked and inhaled sharply. It seemed the sensation was mutual.

It was probably just the intensity of the moment, Francesca reasoned. They were on the global stage. The next ninety minutes could very well determine the outcome of this election. Both of their futures were riding on how this played out. Everything they had spent their lives working toward was at stake. They were both expert politicians who had spent close to two decades at the highest level of U.S. politics, so neither usually got nervous. But this was different.

“Good luck, Senator Thurston,” Margot said with a gracious smile, her piercing blue eyes sparkling with thinly-veiled amusement. “May the best woman win.”

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