Behind White House Doors

Chapter 8

Mara glanced at her phone, catching a flood of new notifications lighting up the screen—news stories, social media mentions, and a few messages from friends commenting on her sudden rise to prominence. In the middle of it all was a text from Emma:

Hey, stranger. I see your face more on TV than in real life now. Want to grab a drink?

The weight of the day's work gradually gave way to a growing desire for something more relaxed, more familiar. She quickly typed out a message to Emma:

"How about dinner tonight? My treat. Let's toast to this new chapter properly."

Emma replied almost instantly. "It's a date. Usual spot at 8?"

"Perfect! See you soon"
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As Mara settled into the small bistro, Emma greeted her with a warm hug and a glass of wine. The familiar ambiance and the ease between them melted away the day's tension. They shared plates and caught up, laughter filling the comfortable silences. Eventually, Emma leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"So, how's it going so far?" she asked. "Is the job everything you expected?"

Mara took a slow sip of wine, choosing her words thoughtfully. "It's... intense. I haven't met the president yet, but I did meet Vice President Harris," she said, her voice softening with something Emma couldn't quite read.

Emma raised an eyebrow, amused. "And? What's she like?"

Mara hesitated, realizing how fascinated she sounded even to herself. "She's... incredible. Sharp, captivating—definitely someone who fills a room without saying a word." She paused, then added, "There's something about her... I don't know. She has this way of looking right through you, but not in a harsh way."

Emma tilted her head, a slight grin playing at her lips. "Oh? You're smitten." She laughed lightly, but there was a hint of surprise beneath it. "Sounds like she's already left quite an impression."

Mara shrugged, feeling a bit exposed under Emma's playful scrutiny. "I mean, she's impressive. It's hard not to be a little... in awe."

Emma laughed, nodding knowingly. "Must be inspiring to work under someone like that. She's history in the making."

Mara swirled her wine thoughtfully before setting down her glass. "There is one... situation I'm dealing with. Charles Danvers, one of the senior advisors, was part of the group that got me into this role. He's hinted that he expects something in return."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "What kind of 'something'?"

Mara sighed, leaning back. "Oh, you know the type. He thinks just because he opened the door, I owe him—something he can't seem to specify but definitely expects. And, well, let's just say he's not exactly subtle about it."

Emma shook her head, her eyes flashing with concern. "You've earned that job, Mara. He shouldn't get to use it as leverage."

"Exactly," Mara said firmly. "I've worked too hard to be held hostage by him or anyone else. I have no intention of following whatever little game he has in mind. I'm just trying to figure out the best way to get him off my back."

Emma gave her a wry smile. "You'll find a way—you're probably ten steps ahead of him already."

Mara laughed softly, then glanced down, her expression shifting. "There was also... a note." She hesitated. "Someone left it in my office, just before I was officially hired. It was anonymous, and it said something cryptic about watching my back. No name, no context—just that."

Emma's expression darkened. "That's unsettling. Do you think it's connected to Danvers?"

"Maybe," Mara replied slowly. "Or maybe someone else in the White House has their own agenda. But either way, I've been watching my step carefully since then. There's a lot happening that I don't fully understand yet."

Emma reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You'll figure it out. You've always been sharper than everyone else in the room."

Emma studied Mara with a steady gaze, the warmth in her eyes mixed with newfound concern. "Just promise me you'll stay cautious," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

"Always," Mara replied, her lips curling into a faint smile.

Emma leaned back, the dim light of the restaurant casting a soft glow over her as she took a sip of wine. "You know, hearing you talk about the White House almost makes me jealous," she said with a grin. "It's so intense, Mara, but I can see you're thriving on that."

Mara laughed, setting down her own glass. "Intense is one way to put it. But you'd know about intensity. You're dealing with political campaigns and media every day. You get it."

"Touché." Emma nodded thoughtfully. "It's true. My work has me constantly on my toes—keeping our candidates looking good, keeping the press favorable. But I have to admit, there's something magical about what you're doing. And there's only so far I can go where I'm at. It doesn't have quite the same prestige as White House Press Secretary," she teased, her gaze warm but searching.

They shared a small laugh, both understanding the stakes of their worlds. But Emma's laughter faltered a little as she continued. "Oh, and—yeah, Ryan and I...we called things off a few weeks ago."

Mara's eyes softened with surprise. "I'm sorry to hear that, Emma. I didn't know."

Emma shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but clearly letting Mara see a hint of vulnerability. "It was time. We weren't really heading in the same direction. And...I think I've realized I'm looking for something different."

Mara nodded, understanding in a way that felt unspoken. There was a slight pause, a gentle tension lingering in the air between them, as if each was considering what exactly that "something different" might be.
Emma held her gaze a beat too long before looking away, as if choosing her words carefully. "You know," she began, her voice low, "if you ever need someone on your side, I'm always here. And, you know, I don't mind a little late-night debrief...like old times."

"I've never once doubted that you're on my side, Emma. You're the one person I can count on, no questions asked. Those late nights—those talks—they became this thing I looked forward to more than I even realized. You became more than a friend, more than I ever expected.

But lately, I feel like we're dancing right on the edge of something... something that could be incredible, or something that could burn everything down. And that scares me, because what we have means the world to me. I don't want to lose it, or you.

I can't give you a yes, and I can't give you a no, not yet. But when you look at me the way you do now... I know it's not just friendly. And it's not like I haven't thought about it, too. I just don't want either of us to get hurt in the process. You mean too much to me, Emma."

Emma reached across the table, giving Mara's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and nodded to show understanding.