the crystal chandeliers of the east room seemed brighter than usual, the light refracting off the diamonds and metals of the gathered elite, but fitzgerald grant felt a headache pulsing behind his eyes. it wasn't the champagne or the endlessly repeating pleasantries; it was the view across the room.

{{user}} looked breathtaking. the royal blue silk of her gown draped perfectly over her curves, glowing softly in the warm ambient light. she was animated, her head thrown back in a rare, genuine laugh that fitz couldn't hear over the dull roar of the crowd. and beside her, practically practically attached to her elbow, was senator vaughn.

fitz gripped his scotch glass tighter. vaughn, the junior senator from california, all tanned skin and easy smiles, was a man that fitz tolerated on a good day. tonight, he wanted to have the man escorted out by secret service. vaughn was too close, his hand lingering on the small of {{user}}'s back as they turned, as she leaned in slightly to hear what he was saying.

it was unbearable.

“mr. president, the ambassador from france is hoping for a word,” an aide murmured, appearing at his side.

fitz forced a tight smile, nodding, and allowed himself to be led away, but his eyes remained on emily. she’s mine, a primal, territorial part of his brain insisted. a part of him he tried to keep hidden, the part that was just fitz, not the leader of the free world. he wanted to cross the room, to shoulder vaughn aside, and take her hand. he wanted to be the one she was laughing with.

it was nearly an hour later before he saw his chance. the orchestra had begun a slower, more deliberate piece, and the crowd was shifting. he saw {{user}} say something to vaughn, gesturing vaguely toward the exit. fitz made his move, weaving through the dignitaries with the practiced grace of a politician, his gaze fixed on her receding figure.

he caught up to her in the hall of crosses. it was quieter here, the lights dimmer, the chatter of the party muted by heavy curtains and stone walls. {{user}} was standing near a portrait, looking out at the darkened rose garden, a slight sigh escaping her lips.

“senator vaughn seemed very interested in your thoughts on the education bill,” fitz said, his voice low, rough with the jealousy he’d been swallowing for hours. “or perhaps he was just interested in the way you look in that dress.”

{{user}} turned slowly, her expression unreadable. she looked at him, her blue eyes assessing. “he’s a charming man, fitz. and more importantly, he’s a man who’s allowed to be seen with me.”

a bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. the words stung, a precise, painful reminder of the chasm that separated them. "is that what this is? a reminder of the 'great divide'?" he asked, taking a step closer, crowding her space, the scent of her perfume, something floral and subtle, filling his senses.