The Governor's gala (1)

The Governor's gala, the evening of the day of the election results, was held on the roof of one of the most luxurious hotels in White Capital. It was partially owned by the Thorne family, but all parties involved in the elections were invited. After all, the gala was an official event.

The winner would give a speech, while the losers would congratulate him with a fake smile.

To no one's surprise, the winner was Alistair Thorne, May's uncle and the Prime Minister's second son. The elections confirmed him as the Governor of the capital for the third time in a row.

May was standing in a corner, observing the exchanges among the people around her. Her fingers were wrapped around a glass of wine, already warm on that hot evening. Her usual, emotionless expression didn't surprise anyone, even though her grandfather had asked her to pretend to be happy about the results.

She had nodded her head when he had told her, attempting a smile but failing. After the brief exchange, she had found her favourite spot and hoped her family would forget about her.

Just as usual, she had no luck.

A waiter approached her and bent down to whisper a few words so that only she could hear.

«Miss Thorne, the Prime Minister wishes for your presence.»

She placed the warm glass on the tray the waiter was carrying and walked away, wrapped in her lovely cream dress. It was plain and unadorned, but it fitted her perfectly. It couldn't hide her discreet shapes. It couldn't shadow her pretty face no matter how much she tried to pass unnoticed.

She reached the centre of the terrace, where her grandfather was chatting about politics with a few colleagues from the party. The Prime Minister smiled when he saw her, which made May shiver in worry.

«Dear May, I was wondering where you were. I worry you might feel bored,» he said, offering his arm to her.

She had to accept because one doesn't just reject the Prime Minister. She had learned, through the years, to fight her own feelings and act civilly during official events. It was easier than always putting up a fight. For what, then?

Agreeing with Leonard Thorne had no alternative and brought her less trouble, all things considered. She was not as relevant as to change anything with her word; her disagreement would have no weight at all.

She showed the men with her grandfather a cold smile, one of her usual ones, and didn't meet anyone's eyes. She would stand there like a trophy for a while, then leave for the bathroom and disappear again. It would always work, for her grandfather would usually forget she was there with them.

«May has really grown up,» one of the colleagues said, at some point «How old is she this year?»

He was a sixty-something-year-old man wearing an expensive suit, just like most of the people in there. Politics-related events had that constant: a bunch of men older than fifty, wearing suits and acting polite to hide their true nature as wolves.

«She's twenty-two,» Leonard Thorne said. He sounded proud of his granddaughter, even though May knew it couldn't be any less true.

She knew what he thought of her, and he likely knew her feelings toward him as well. Neither of them was a fool.

«I have a nephew close to that age. He's a little older than May.»

«We can arrange for them to meet,» Leonard Thorne chuckled. «But my May has to finish her studies first. Then, she can think of boys, am I right?»

There it was, that talk she hated.

As the Prime Minister's granddaughter, she was a desirable prize for any bachelor. It didn't matter as much how plain and uninteresting she was.

Her grandfather didn't approve of her studies, believing she was wasting time with math. Yet, in public, he would always boast about her good grades and her diligence.

May just nodded, her gaze wandering on the terrace, unconsciously searching for familiar faces. She hated how bad her memory was when it came to people. She struggled to remember names and faces, which was troublesome - especially for a Prime Minister's granddaughter.

«Prime Minister Thorne! Congratulations on your son's victory,» she heard, then. She winced, feeling her cheeks burn and her back shivering.

That voice was one she wouldn't forget. That face, neither.

Chris Lindt stood in front of her, yet he just glanced and showed her a fake smile. Fake, because he didn't want anyone to suspect.

He then moved his eyes away, focusing on his main opponent. The men enlarged their circle to let him in, even though most of them weren't happy that he joined their conversation. It was something May had noticed often among politicians: they loved - literally, loved - chatting with those with similar opinions but would cringe when someone with a different mind talked with them.

Their annoyance was funny, sometimes. All Chris Lindt had done was congratulate her grandfather, which was a due deed - except that it would have made more sense to congratulate his son, Alistair.

«This time, it was close, Senator Lindt,» Leonard Thorne replied. His tone was not as cold as it would usually be, which surprised the closest of his colleagues. «Next time, we might not be so lucky.»

Everyone's ears straightened, their sixth sense telling them something was happening. Not just Chris Lindt had actively joined their conversation instead of just congratulating them and leaving, but Leonard Thorne was warm with him. Was the world coming to an end?

«Long time no see, Prime Minister Thorne,» said Morgan, following his employer diligently. He had become Chris Lindt's shadow when, a few weeks before, he had started working for him.

However, he hadn't met the Prime Minister yet.

«No need to be so polite, Morgan. I saw you growing up, after all. You can continue calling me grandpa Leo.»

Both May and Morgan exchanged a glance at those words. They almost shivered at the thought of calling that stern man grandpa.

«I'm surprised to find you as my opponent, though,» Leonard Thorne continued. «You could have asked me to introduce you to politics. Isn't your grandfather heartbroken that you chose the other side?»

«There aren't better politicians on our scene, that's right,» one of the middle-aged men surrounding him added. «Why going so far?»

«I'm learning every day from Senator Lindt,» Morgan replied. «He's not just an outstanding politician, but also a businessman. Am I wrong, perhaps?»

«Oh, if one wants to succeed in politics, one has to dedicate himself,» Leonard Thorne stated.

He didn't seem bothered by Morgan's praise towards his employer. He didn't even seem so surprised. He had that lingering suspicion that it was all Chris Lindt's plot to look better in front of a young maiden... Could a man be any more stupid? Making such plots just to impress a girl!

He chuckled, hiding his real thoughts behind his unreadable face. He would have Chris Lindt under control, sooner than later.