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Luckily, I don’t need your consent.

– No, – A’Lta stubbornly refuses and tries to hold me by clinging to the hem of my jacket as I get up to pay for her coffee and leave. – If you do this, I swear by the moon – you will never become a senator! I will trample you both – you and your slut, veto all your many years of work – and not a single influential lunar will ever shake hands with you again in his life!

I look down at her twisted face and, oddly enough, feel neither anger nor annoyance. Only pity. Although this is strange, because I am absolutely sure that she will carry out the threat. At least he’ll try. And it may well become the nail that will be driven into the coffin of my never-established political career.

But I also know for sure that I won’t let her hurt Margot.

Even if it means sacrificing your senatorial ambitions to do so.

Damn it, I think I’m in love!

I stare dumbfounded at that damn picture that’s on the TV screen in the middle of the coffee shop where I usually meet my sisters. A small place not in the center, without prying eyes, where there are always free tables, surprisingly tasty inexpensive coffee and a wonderful home-made honey cake for it.