Season Five: French Kissing, Book 5

by Harper Bliss

  But despite her obvious nerves, Margot saw something else in Juliette’s demeanour. Something she had seen in Claire as well. How they were when they were together and in sync. It was, perhaps, something only a spouse could notice. Despite driving each other up the wall from time to time, Claire and Juliette made each other better.

  “As much as I love this dog”—Claire scratched Phénix behind the ears—“I say we get out of here and go to the MLR headquarters.”

  “It’s too early,” Juliette said. “It’s going to be a long day and night. It’s going to be so tight.” She sipped from her glass of white wine, for which, apparently, it wasn’t too early. “I’m not sure Aurore endorsing Dominique will be enough to undo the negative effects of the Le Noir video.”

  “It won’t be about that,” Nadia said. “It will be about what Dominique said at the debate.”

  “The debate was a week ago. With all that has happened since, people have long forgotten about Dominique’s speech.”

  “I disagree,” Margot said. “It was impactful enough.”

  “Even my mother mentioned it to me,” Nadia said.

  “Have you talked to your mother since that video came out?” Claire asked.

  “This morning, before I voted,” Nadia said. “Not a word was said about Steph.”

  “It’s not something your mother would raise, though,” Juliette said.

  Margot was safe in the knowledge that, if her parents had still been alive, they would have voted MLR. No matter what.

  “Look,” she said. “There are only two possible outcomes to this election. Either Dominique wins, or she loses. If she loses, the world will still keep on turning. It won’t be the end of us and our lives will just keep going. At least Marechal has been out of the picture for two weeks. It won’t be the worst that can happen.”

  “Next you’ll say the Socialists aren’t that bad,” Nadia joked.

  “Maybe we should get out of here.” Margot shuffled in her seat. “Before we all start saying things we will definitely regret.”

  The atmosphere at the MLR HQ was tense. They were still waiting for the first exit poll results. Anything could still happen. Hope was still intact—but the hope hanging in the air was very brittle. Everyone knew the race would be tighter than ever before. Rivière’s one percent lead in the first round was not something to be easily dismissed.

  “When do they start pouring drinks?” Inez asked.

  Margot had been here five years ago as well, so she knew. “Not for a while.”

  “When does the president arrive?” Inez’ voice was tense.

  “I have no idea, but that might also be a while.”

  Whoever was in charge of the giant TV screen on the wall, turned up the volume.

  “The first exit polls are coming in,” the newscaster said. “Let’s have a look.”

  A good number of MLR members had gathered already, and their hum died to a nervous whisper.

  On the TV screen, a blue and a red vertical bar were rising, annoyingly neck and neck. When they stopped, the red bar had risen marginally above the blue one. A suppressed groan went through the crowd.

  It would be like this for the rest of the day, until the final score came in.

  “It’s just an exit poll,” Nadia said. “And it’s only the first. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I can just imagine the smug smile on Sybille’s face,” Claire said.

  Margot exchanged a glance with Nadia. The mention of Sybille’s name didn’t seem to affect her that much.

  “Who is this Sybille you keep mentioning?” Inez asked.

  “Rivière’s campaign manager and the most ruthless woman in French politics right now,” Claire said.

  Dominique

  The exit polls weren’t giving Dominique a lot of reasons to smile. Soon, the final result would be announced. Election Day was such a contradiction. All these mixed emotions coursing through her at the same time. The campaign was ending. No matter the results, her life would go back to some form of normalcy after today. Either she would remain in the Elysée for a few more days, until Rivière moved in, or she and Steph would move back into the Avenue Foch apartment. Come to think of it, that would be the least normal thing to happen.

  Solange knocked on the open door of her office. She looked as pale as the white blouse she was wearing.

  “Time to go?” she asked.

  Dominique nodded. She couldn’t hide in her office much longer. Philippe was bringing the children to the MLR convention room. She knew that as soon as she saw their faces, some of the tension would leave her.

  “Before we go.” Dominique fixed her gaze on her chief of staff. “Thank you for all you’ve done. If things don’t go our way today, it won’t be for your lack of commitment and skill. I really appreciate all you do for me.”

  As expected, Solange waved off her comment. “I do nothing more than my job asks of me.”

  “We both know you do so much more than that.” Dominique was adamant.

  “Shall we go then?” Solange asked. “Steph’s waiting outside.”

  Just as they entered the big ballroom, another exit poll was being shown on TV. Another one slightly in Rivière’s favour.

  Dominique’s arrival elicited a big round of applause from the crowd regardless.

  Here we go, she thought, as she looked at the people who had gathered to support her. Now the true madness begins.

  As she was being accosted, Dominique noticed how Aurore, who had accompanied Solange, was receiving numerous pats on the back. In a way, Aurore’s support was another something Solange had secured for her.

  “Chérie.” Her mother walked up to her and held her arms wide. Philippe and the children were right behind her.

  As Dominique stepped into her mother’s embrace, and clocked Lisa and Didier’s faces, she thought that she would at least always have this—these people. Her family.

  If she lost, the inevitable upside would be more time for them. Would that really be so bad? After all, for a while, it was what she had wanted more than extending her reign as president.

  “A significant exit poll,” the voice of the news presenter came through the speakers. “From the department of the Alpes-Maritimes.”

  “This should be good news,” her mother said.

  “A two percent lead for Laroche,” the newscaster said. “Which should come as no surprise in this MLR stronghold.”

  “It should be more,” Solange muttered behind her. “In a district like that, our lead should be at least five percent.”

  “There are one hundred and one departments in total,” Didier said, to everyone’s surprise. “Everything’s still possible.”

  This made Dominique wonder if he’d been spending too much time with his grandfather.

  She pulled him close to her. There was nothing like feeling her children’s small bodies against hers.

  “More exit polls,” the newsreader said, and the attention of every single person in the crowd turned to the screen.

  The numbers were coming in thick and fast now—so quickly, that Dominique’s head started spinning. She regrouped and found Steph’s gaze. Steph winked at her and the tiny gesture reverberated all the way through her.

  Of course, Dominique wanted to win. She believed she was a good president and that, if given another term, she could become an even better one. But her world wouldn’t collapse if she lost. She would still be Dominique Laroche, soon to be married to Stéphanie Mathis. She would still be Lisa and Didier’s mother. Xavier and Eléonore’s daughter. The essence of who she was wouldn’t change. She would just be a whole lot less busy—and she’d have to nurse a bruised ego for a while. But one thing Dominique couldn’t fault herself for: she hadn’t stooped to the level of Rivière and her despicable campaign manager.

  “I told you so.” Margot jabbed Claire in the biceps, then turned to Dominique. “I told her I never had any doubt you would win.”

  “Dominique hasn’t won yet,” Solange w
as quick to say.

  Dominique didn’t contribute to the conversation. She could relax for a few minutes and listen to them talk amongst themselves.

  Margot had introduced her to her colleague Inez, who had fawned over her a bit. And Claire had pulled her to the side, asking if things were okay between them now—a fact Dominique had confirmed, because at this stage, she couldn’t possibly hold a grudge against Claire any longer.

  In between, more numbers had come in, and the odds had turned slightly in her favour. Dominique was making small but significant gains on Rivière.

  “Juliette,” Dominique said. “Can I have a second?”

  Juliette nodded and followed her to a corner of the room.

  “What do you think?” Dominique asked.

  Something glittered in Juliette’s eyes. Something Dominique hadn’t seen in them for a long time.

  “I think you’re going to beat Rivière and I think you’re going to do it with a very comfortable margin.”

  Dominique grabbed Juliette’s hand. “Thank you for your dedication and hard work.”

  Juliette shook her head. “It’s all you, Dominique. If there’s one thing I’ve come to realise throughout this campaign, it is that it’s all down to who you are, as a person and as a president. Nadia was right. That speech you gave at the debate is making the difference. Rivière’s dirty games aren’t doing the trick.”

  “This was a team effort. All the little things we did that led to this moment.” Dominique narrowed her eyes. “And let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The final result isn’t in yet.”

  “It will be soon, Madam President.”

  Before Dominique could protest, Juliette held up her hand. “Just let me call you that for tonight. It’s who you are, after all.”

  “Your friends aren’t too bad,” Dominique said to Steph once she had rejoined their group. She preferred spending a little more time amongst these women over chit-chatting with diehard MLR members.

  “We’re going to have to invite all of them to our wedding,” Steph said. “We can’t just do it on the sly now.”

  “It would be an honour to have them there.” Dominique let her eyes glide over every single one of them. They had all come to support her and Steph.

  “We’re minutes away from getting the definitive result,” the newsreader said. You could hear a pin drop in the ballroom. Lisa was glued to Dominique’s side, her hands covering her eyes. The poor girl was afraid to look. She was really too young to be exposed to this tense a situation, but she wouldn’t have wanted to miss it either.

  “Early exit polls really aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” a studio guest said. “A large majority of them were in slight favour of Anne Rivière, but the most recent ones are exactly the opposite. This could very easily still turn into a landslide victory for Laroche.”

  “A testament to our president,” another studio guest said. “And how dignified a campaign she has run.”

  “Here we go,” the presenter said. “The final result is in.”

  The screen again showed the two ribbons rising simultaneously. Until the red one stopped rising while the blue one kept going. For a fraction of a second, the ballroom went dead quiet, before bursting into a raucous thunder of applause as the image on the screen morphed into Dominique’s face.

  “Bloody hell,” Steph said. “You’ve only gone and done it again, babe.”

  “Dear friends,” Dominique started her speech. “Thank you so much for being here.” She looked into the crowd. Five minutes earlier, she had received a phone call from Anne Rivière, congratulating her on her victory. She’d been surprisingly graceful about it. “I daresay tonight’s a historic night for the MLR.”

  A loud roar went through the crowd. Dominique sought Steph’s face. She was flanked by Lisa and Didier.

  “This was not an easy campaign—no campaign ever is. Anne Rivière was—” The crowd started booing. Dominique made a gesture with her hand asking them to stop. “She was a worthy opponent, who fought for all she was worth.” And made a few crucial mistakes along the way. Although Dominique was well aware that things could have so easily swung in Rivière’s direction. “She’s a good politician. I doubt we’ve heard the last of Anne.” Dominique wondered what Sybille was saying to her candidate right now—as they watched Dominique’s victory speech on TV. Maybe they had switched off the television.

  “I’m sure she’ll give me a hard time from the opposition benches.” Dominique threw in a wide smile and was met with another loud round of applause. “And I welcome that.” She fixed her gaze on Steph again. Dominique truly didn’t care what her fiancée had gotten up to at Le Noir. She knew Steph had gone back there even after they’d met—after they’d fallen in love. But that was all in the past. What mattered now was the future—hers, theirs, and the country’s.

  “I know that some of you”—she let her gaze drift to her father—“don’t always agree with my more centrist tendencies, but they’re part of who I am. As a person and as a president. And I will continue to work across the political divide between the left and the right to do what’s best for France.”

  Her father gave her a small nod of encouragement.

  “During this campaign, I’ve opened up. I’ve made myself more vulnerable than perhaps I set out to do. But I don’t regret it. People change and over the course of the past five years, I have changed as well. I’m happy to report that the presidency hasn’t made me a harder person, with a shell of steel around my heart. Quite the opposite, in fact. Serving as your president has made me see that true power lies in being more open and transparent. In honest togetherness. Because, together, we can always do so much more than on our own.” She paused. It was great to be able to make a speech in front of a home crowd. Behind Steph, she made out their friends’ faces—because these women were her friends now as well. She even spotted a smile on Solange’s face, who was holding on tightly to her formerly Socialist partner. Who knew, maybe Solange would announce her wedding next.

  “I’m honoured that I was able to achieve this together with you. Let’s make these next five years the best this country has ever seen.” Her lips spread into the widest smile. “But first, I’m going to take some time to finally marry my fiancée.”

  She glanced at Steph again, who stood there smiling in the crowd. But Steph wasn’t just a face in the crowd—she was the face. And Dominique would start her next term as president of France married to the woman that lovely face belonged to.

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