Season Four: French Kissing, Book 4

by Harper Bliss

  “As you just said, I’m not very good at politics, so my simple suggestion is to just do the decent thing as soon as possible. These women have waited long enough.”

  “Both the president and Rivière could benefit from this. No one has to lose.”

  “I’m all ears.” Aurore was burning with curiosity.

  “What if… the president came on your radio show to discuss this very topic?”

  Aurore’s eyes grew wide. “Is this your idea or the president’s?”

  “Mine alone. For now. I wanted to talk about it with you first before discussing it with her.”

  “You’re trying to lure me in with the prospect of having the president on my show and blindside Anne Rivière in the process. Clever but not very ethical.” Aurore’s thoughts raced. She would give a lot to interview Dominique Laroche. She had so many questions to ask her—most of which would be censored by Solange beforehand, of course, but the opportunity loomed large in her mind.

  “You said yourself you’re not interested in the politics of it,” Solange said.

  “That doesn’t mean I would betray Anne. She’s a friend.”

  “I’m open to counteroffers.” Solange leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Are you?”

  Solange nodded.

  “I need to think about this.”

  “There’s time, but not too much. I will need an answer in the next few days.”

  Aurore couldn’t help a smile from spreading on her lips when she glanced at Solange next. “You’re so shrewd. No wonder you’re chief of staff.”

  Solange didn’t say anything but her silence was more than enough to let Aurore know she’d hit the nail on the head.

  “Tell me honestly. How many times have you used this trick? The casual clothes. The wine.” She grabbed her glass. She wanted a bit more of the delicious drink before she left. “The relaxed atmosphere to bamboozle the other party and have them think you’re willing to have an open conversation.”

  “I’m very much willing to have an open conversation.”

  Aurore shook her head. “Granted, you had me fooled for a minute or two, but that’s about it. The only thing you were willing to do tonight was make me an offer I couldn’t refuse under the best circumstances. I wouldn’t even consider this if you had summoned me to the Elysée and treated me with your usual… bitter-heartedness. Now I’m holding it under advisement. You won.”

  “In the end, politics isn’t about winning, Aurore. It’s about making changes, making progress, making a difference.”

  Aurore huffed out a chuckle. “Now you’ve gone too far. You’ve just erased the last ounce of credibility you still had with me.”

  “Yet, I’m serious.” Solange reached for her glass of wine and cradled it in her hand. “Power is all well and good, but you don’t make the kind of sacrifices that Dominique has—that I have—just for the sake of it.”

  ”I’m willing to believe that about Dominique. About you, I’m not so sure.”

  “That’s fine. That means I’ve branded her well. That’s what matters most. I couldn’t really care less about my own image.”

  “Such burning ambition.” Aurore looked her over. “You’re still young, Solange. Laroche isn’t going to be president forever. Have you thought about your life after this is all over?”

  “Not for one single second.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Aurore finished the wine and shuffled to the edge of the sofa.

  “If you stay a little longer I’ll think about apologising to Stéphanie,” Solange said.

  Aurore’s eyes grew even wider than before. “Turns out I don’t have you all figured out just yet. Sometimes, like now, I can’t make head nor tail of what you say.” Aurore rose. “Either way, I don’t respond well to emotional blackmail.”

  “Sometimes I say the completely wrong thing. I’m sorry.” Solange shot up. “My desire for you to stay longer has nothing to do with my willingness to say sorry to Stéphanie. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that I—I didn’t know how to make you stay.”

  “It’s very simple. Just be nice.”

  “Maybe it’s simple to you.”

  “Why do you want me to stay?” Aurore turned and she towered over shoe-less Solange.

  “Because, against all odds, I really like your company. I like your candour. And you don’t speak half-truths like most of the people I know.”

  “Pour me another glass of that wine then,” Aurore said, while wondering about the changes of direction Solange had made over the course of the evening already. She blew hot and cold, claimed Aurore had to stay as far away from the president as possible, then offered Aurore to interview her. There was a lot more to find out here, and Aurore might as well do it over another delectable glass of wine.

  Dominique

  With Steph gone, Dominique didn’t get as much sleep. She had more room in the bed, but the emptiness of the other half weighed heavy on her. She lay awake much longer than her exhausted brain could afford, realising she had been too hard on Steph. When she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she saw nothing but regret. But she knew Steph. She needed to give her ample time to cool off and gather her thoughts. Dominique didn’t want to be suspected of putting pressure on her again. And she had plenty of other worries. Seeing Solange arrive at the Elysée that morning for instance.

  “What’s eating you?” Dominique asked after ordering Solange to sit down.

  “Nothing. I was up late.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m working on a solution for the Rivière bill.”

  “With a large glass of wine in your hand?”

  Solange took a deep breath then looked Dominique squarely in the eye. “I know this is not professional and I apologise, Madam President. You count on me to have a fresh head in the morning, and that is not the case today.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Solange. I’m not your headmistress. Besides, everyone can have a bad day, even my chief of staff.” Dominique tried a smile.

  “I’m this close to a solution. I promise.”

  “Good, because I’m seeing my father tonight and I would like to have something to say to him that won’t have him give me the cold shoulder for weeks.”

  “Can I ask you a… personal question?”

  “Yes, if you let me ask Madame Moreau to bring you a strong cup of coffee.”

  Solange nodded. Dominique placed the order and requested one for herself as well. She glanced at Solange. This was the team meant to lead the country? One severely hungover woman and one heartbroken one?

  “Shoot.” She sat down and leaned her elbows on her desk.

  “Would it help you if I apologised to Stéphanie?”

  Dominique examined Solange’s face. That hangover must really be doing a number on her. “I think it might.”

  “I never meant to come between you. I’ve always only tried to do my job.” Was that a tremor in Solange’s voice?

  “I know that.” Dominique tried to read Solange’s face, but it was as blank as the empty piece of paper lying on her desk. “I don’t mean to pry, Solange.” Dominique was well aware they didn’t have that kind of relationship—and the last time she had tried to become more chummy with her chief of staff, things hadn’t turned out too well. “But is a hangover all that’s going on with you?”

  “Pretty much.” Solange tried to straighten her posture a little.

  “Here’s what you’re going to do.” A knock came on the door and Madame Moreau came in with two steaming cups of coffee. Dominique waited until she had left to continue. “You’re going to drink that cup of coffee. Take an ibuprofen and have a nap in one of the guest rooms of the private wing. I have a meeting with the prime and foreign ministers in ten minutes. Come see me afterwards.” Dominique drank from her coffee, hoping Solange would mirror her action. “Both Stéphanie and I would appreciate it if you had a word with her. I hope you know that.”

  “I do.” Solange succeeded in sitting up a bit straigh
ter. “I’ll call her later today.”

  “Where’s Stéphanie?” Dominique’s mother asked.

  “She’s not here, Maman. You’ll have to make do with just me tonight.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Decades in politics hadn’t taught Dominique how to hide her emotions from her own mother. “Not really, but it will be.” At least she hoped it would be. “Don’t tell Papa, okay? I don’t want him getting his hopes up.”

  “Come on, Domi, give your father a bit more credit than that. He’s grown fond of Stéphanie in his own way. Just like me, he wants you to be happy.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

  Her mother shook her head. “You have to be willing to see it.”

  “You can’t deny he treats Stéphanie differently than he did Philippe. He has never invited her for lunch at the Saint-James or suggested they do some clay shooting together.” Dominique had to admit that even the notion of the two of them going off with a pair of hunting shotguns seemed ridiculous.

  “Maybe because he knows Stephanie would not enjoy either of these activities.”

  “You might be right about that.” Dominique sighed. This was her mother sitting next to her. For once, for the few minutes before her father arrived, she could let her guard down. “Things are not good between us. She has left the Elysée. She’s staying with friends. I can’t be certain she’ll come back.”

  “Steph adores you, Domi. She’ll come back.”

  “She’s not cut out for the life I’m giving her. Perhaps that was part of the attraction all along, because she’s so different from everyone I know. Sometimes I feel like I’m holding her back, that I’m keeping her in a cage. It’s not easy being first lady and not everyone wants to do it.” Dominique wondered whether Solange had called Steph yet. And whether it would make a difference if they talked.

  “It takes sacrifice, but as long as you know why you’re making the sacrifice, and you stand behind those reasons, it’s not that much of a hardship. Steph is a tough cookie.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Dominique rolled her head back to release some tension from her shoulders. “I hope you’re in the mood for a good old MLR father-daughter debate tonight. It’s not going to be easy to convince papa that this bill is a good thing.”

  “I’ve thought about it.” Her mother looked at Dominique intently. “You should play the sentimental card. Talk about Lisa and Didier. He really doesn’t have any rational arguments against this bill, only political ones.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  A split second later, the atmosphere in the room changed as Xavier Laroche waltzed in. “Here she is,” he said. “The greatest president this nation has ever seen.” He planted his hands on the sides of Dominique’s arms and kissed her on both cheeks. “And what a sight for old, sore eyes she is as well.” He sat down in his chair, the way he had done all of Dominique’s life, and looked at her. “Any news from the Elysée?” he asked.

  “As if you don’t know all that goes on already.” Dominique had to keep from rolling her eyes.

  “Ha.” He slammed a palm onto his knee. “Here we go again with the accusations of old Laroche being the shadow president of France. You and I both know that’s not how it is.”

  Dominique had had to sit her father down a few months into her presidency, and tell him his presence at the Elysée was not required every single day. But her father still had a lot of sway with the MLR, and she ran every important decision by him. Not only to keep him in the loop, but because he had much more experience than Dominique—and the necessary connections when she most needed them. And Dominique knew she would never have become president if her father hadn’t hatched his plans for her from when she was a young girl. Thank goodness her mother had always been around to temper his ambitions. Dominique divorcing the father of her children and falling in love with a woman had never been part of Xavier Laroche’s plans.

  Dominique gave her father a brief synopsis of current affairs. When it was time for dinner, every topic of conversation had been brought up—except the Rivière bill, and a potentially volatile debate about it loomed gloomily over them.

  “I’m going to need your help, Papa,” Dominique started. Her father was a died-in-the-wool politician, but a cry for help from his only daughter would always leave him a little weak. “We’re almost two decades into the twenty-first century. I know I can only dream of being a president to whom every person in this country is equal, but I can make a difference here. The MLR can, too.”

  “Ha, the Rivière bill. That’s a tough one for me—and for the party by extension. France doesn’t have to be a frontrunner in this. We should at least wait until the Germans have clarified their law.”

  “France has very different values than Germany. Equality is part of our country’s very slogan.” Dominique was hesitant to resort to the emotional card her mother had advised her to play. She wasn’t that kind of debater—she preferred to convince the other with rational arguments. “The way I see it, we can’t afford to block this.”

  “We’re talking about such a small minority here, Dominique. Is it really worth shaking up the party for a few dozen same-sex couples who want a child?”

  “A few dozen?” Dominique took a deep breath. “First of all, it would be worth it for only one couple. Second, it’s not just same-sex couples. It’s single women as well. The old law is misogynist, antiquated, and not of this time anymore. It clearly discriminates against women who don’t have a male partner. It should be a no-brainer.”

  Her father held up his hands. “Everything to do with procreation is a delicate matter. You know this. There are ethics to be considered here.”

  “What ethics? The same ones that made homosexuality punishable by law? The same ones that didn’t allow same-sex partners to be married until a couple of years ago? It’s not a matter of ethics if the procedure is already available for other people—straight people. That’s just pure inequality.”

  “Slow change is still better than no change. You know the far right is going to rally against this. You might have to deal with Tous Ensemble again if you allow this bill to pass. Then there’s the small matter of having to cooperate with the socialists. Rivière is gunning for your job. It would be naive to think you wouldn’t lose votes over this in the next election. Since the socialists have reinvented themselves, the MLR has had to move to the right a little more.”

  “I haven’t. And I will take on Rivière when the time comes. The next election is more than two years away. Who’s to say I can’t snatch votes from her more centrist base if I put my support behind this bill now? Being moderate about topics like this is, in the end, what got me elected. There are votes to be won in the middle of left and right, Papa.”

  Xavier shook his head. “Society is polarising more and more, and it will be even worse in two years.”

  “How about I run on merit then? On my legacy and what I’ve been able to achieve in my five years in the Elysée. It might be Rivière’s bill, but if it passes while I’m in office, it will be part of my legacy and she won’t be able to hold it against me when the time comes.”

  “Hear, hear,” Dominique’s mother said. She had the habit of staying out of political discussions between father and daughter—not that she didn’t have plenty of her own opinions, but she preferred to express them under different circumstances.

  “If you’re going to gang up on me.” Her father painted a small smile on his face. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to look to the future. I want you to imagine a world where people are a little bit more equal than they are now, regardless of race, sexual orientation or class.”

  “That sounds very socialist to me. What will you be proposing next? That we raise taxes?” He managed a tight chuckle.

  “Having children is every woman’s fundamental right. It really is as simple as that. No ethics committee can ever rule against that. Not in this day and age.”
>
  Xavier sighed. “Do you realise that it’s already scientifically possible for two women to produce a child together. No more men required. Is that the kind of future world you envision?”

  “Oh please, Papa. Don’t play the threatened white male part with me. Don’t even waste my precious time with that for one single second.”

  “I’m just telling you all the arguments I’m going to have to deal with when I talk to the leadership.”

  “You know what I think?” Eléonore said. She turned to Dominique. “This is not a job for your father. I’ll host a dinner for everyone who needs to be convinced, and you should address them, Dominique. It’s what you do best. If it comes from you, they’ll buy into it. And you’ll be there to destroy any stupid, arcane, medieval argument they might have.”

  “Hold on a second,” her father said. “We don’t want the president to present herself in such a vulnerable manner. Not to the hyenas of MLR’s old guard.”

  “I’m part of the MLR. I belong to this party and have done all of my life. I belonged to it long before I could even choose to,” Dominique said.

  “They will listen to her, Xav. She’s their president,” Eléonore said.

  “I’m not saying they won’t listen, but it might not be as pleasant a conversation as we’re having tonight.”

  “I don’t care how unpleasant it is. It’s important.” Dominique looked at her mother. “Great idea, Maman.”