Major talking points of the evening have been rephrased and rehashed again, the pair somehow still running in the same circular conversations on his upcoming speech in this late hour. As president of Bellum Nova, Remus oversees the day to day operations, running a tight ship on behalf of the CEO ( who happens to be his father ). “Emphasize our increase in profit,” he parrots back, listening closely even though eyes grew glassy long ago, “put my bleeding heart on display for queen and country, got it. Easy enough.” Each year is practically the same, each shareholder’s meeting declared another important chance to impress investors and gain favour within parliament. The weight that hangs on Remus’ shoulders is heavier this time, though, the added pressure of the campaign beginning to settle in. “Current PM makes me look even better with all the fucking shit he spews on cutting military spending. He’s really not doing himself any fucking favours there.” Not when the party in power supports a large standing military, something Remus Warden and Bellum Nova are ready to provide.
It’s no secret that Cemile has her work cut out for her as she manages the details of the campaign, keeping Remus’ image clean as he faces intense media scrutiny each day — public opinion is messy, rarely nuanced, and heavily influenced by the personal anecdotes of an elite few. As a young man, he held the coveted title of Tatler’s Most Eligible Bachelor ( three years in a row, but who’s counting? ), earned two degrees from Cambridge, cut groundbreaking deals between Bellum and the military…but then there’s the very public divorce muddying his reputation, right alongside all the scandals attached to the real family company over the years, including Rita’s recent detainment ( if anyone really wanted to dig ). Then there’s his drug use; the overdose, too — it makes every other PR risk just a drop in the very large bucket. He’s been assured that it’s all shoved away neatly now, hidden by the picture he and Cemile work hard to project to the voters. It would be naive to believe that means he’s safe, though.
Closing his laptop shut, eyebrows furrow in sudden fucking annoyance. “Did you tell them to fuck off?” He puts the laptop on the coffee table, resigning to the reality that he won’t be taking any notes over the end of their seemingly endless meeting. “They’ve got their pants in a twist because Rita’s estranged family runs a cellphone mega-fucking-corporation based from China. Because that’s where they fucking live, all of which is public information, on which I have nothing to add. Link them to her father’s fucking wikipedia page if they’re too dense to find it themselves.” It’s all apart of the political game, these digs into his character and personal relationships in the search for illicit connections, but Remus hates that they manage to pull Rita and their growing family into this, too. “And she was stripped of her inheritance when she married me, anyway, which is also public knowledge.” Fuck The Sun. “She has nothing to do with the company now. This is just some bigoted fucking distraction.” He shakes off the thoughts, malcontent with what his perception has been twisted into; the campaign is still in it’s infancy and already they have to deal with this shit. “We both know if the company was based out of London or Silicon fucking Valley, I’d be told it’s an asset.” He sighs, suddenly aware of how loud he’s become. “Sorry, I don’t mean to snip at you. It’s just fucking frustrating.”
It is interesting how little is said about Remus’ two nationalities and how they influence his life; there’s his dual citizenship and the fact that French is his first language…then there’s the flat in Paris and the summer cottage in Bordeaux, which he and Rita have been known to frequent as often as schedule allows. His mother’s heritage is apparent in every piece of his life: even when his parents struggle to conceive on their own, they turn to surrogacy, and Gabrielle insists the perfect candidate must be French. “They’ll focus on whatever will make the better headline. Anything that gets people to click on the article, right? Click bait, search engine optimization, and all the fucking rest of it.” Relatives in France and China have no influence in his life, especially not something as precious to Remus as this political opportunity — in fact, his in-laws were content to have no connection at all until Hui’s impromptu visit to Virginia Water last month. “All they’ll find in France is my Aunt’s vineyard. All my extended family is clean as a fucking whistle.” Both Gabrielle and Warlock came from comfortable families, but neither were involved in the illicit or even the uber wealthy until they founded Bellum Nova. “I mean. Except for Zach. Who we should really put through media training, by the way.”
Ambition fuels Remus, who always has to have eyes on the next biggest thing. For a long time, the glowing prize was always the high seat of Horseman, inheriting his place as the head of his fucking gang, a sign of his earned birthright. Though now as his sight is set to a political career, watching with satisfaction as his name picks up traction and garnishes attention throughout the country, Remus finds himself fantasizing about other possibilities, asking all the what-ifs. There is power in the political, more so as Prime Minister than Horseman, along with a stability, security, and a certain promise of a better life for Matthieu and June — but he can’t just let go of what he’s spent his whole life working towards. Cemile’s question draws him back from his muddled mind; Remus shrugs in response. “Yes and no. Yes, because literally everything will change, of course. And no, because it’s the next natural step in my life. Like, growing up, falling in love with someone, getting married. And almost divorced,” a pause, Remus laughing even as he takes a drag. “Rita has wanted this for a really long time. I have too, I just let myself get caught up in all the wrong things. Wasted a lot of time.” He feels a lurch in his chest, a tug that tells him he’s saying way too fucking much. “Anyway. It is weird, but in almost none of the ways I expected. I just, um.” Remus sighs. “I wish Juno were here to meet them.”
Cemile thinks that Remus can win, but she doesn’t think it’ll be easy and she doesn’t think it’ll be the landslide they’d otherwise hope for. In a way, though, it makes it more engaging, more of a challenge, even if their current PM wasn’t helping himself. “He rarely does. All you’ve got to do is look at the front page of the Daily Mail.” Even if the Warden camp would disregard any slander in the tabloids as irrelevant, it’s entertaining to watch their political adversaries deal with bad press and splashy front pages.
Her goal is to keep Remus out of them, as much as she can manage. It's easier said than done given his past extracurriculars, but she’s made headway, more than another might have. It helps that apart from the Wardens, she’s got sway of her own, a name to throw around and add some weight where it counts. Just last week she got a story shut down that wanted to pluck at threads that were no longer relevant in Remus’ life. And, if anything, Cem thinks it shows the type of growth he shows as a leader – someone who knows how to better themselves for their family and their country. Look how far he’s come. The pressure of an empire on his shoulders as first born, rising to the occasion and spearheading Bellum Nova’s endeavors for years. It was a good story, one they were spinning to their favor again and again.
And then there were other, more difficult conversations, ones that questioned his ties to family members, domestic and abroad, ties to people who have no bearing on his future policies but who will be dragged through the mud by the opposition if that means they might get a leg up. Cem nods, waving a hand as though it’s not even a question. “Of course I did. They did the same thing to my parents when they put one of the dinosaurs out of business.” When the Sadık’s shipping company flourished and they outstripped the competition, tabloids threw mud, pointing fingers at the foreign influence, as though it gave them an unfair advantage, whatever that meant.
“Regardless, we’ll address it in the coming weeks and lay it to rest, otherwise they’ll keep bringing it up. And if they do after the fact, we’ll be able to say you’ve commented and that’s that. But for the shareholder meeting…it’s off the table.” It wasn’t about Remus, though they would pivot slightly to talk about his campaign, but mostly in light of how ties to Bellum and his experience as President would benefit his position as Prime Minister once he won. “You’re fine.” She shrugs off his apology, understanding that his ire is towards the press and not her. “It’s a bloody pile of shit is what it is, but we’ll get it over with and they’ll have nothing to sniff at but themselves. Bastards.”
She leans against the balcony railing as Remus speaks, haphazard laugh escaping at the mention of Zach. “We should, though the goal is for him never to be in front of the camera unless absolutely necessary.” As much as she appreciated Zach and the way he differed from his cousins, she didn’t quite trust his ability to remain composed in front of ravenous reporters. Only time would tell, she supposes. Cem takes a drag of her cigarette, smoke filling her lungs as she nods. “It is. A natural step, I mean. You’ll do great. The both of you. It’s a lot though, with a campaign and impending fatherhood…you’ll let me know when you need a breather, yeah?” Otherwise Cemile would keep going, would schedule more interviews, would get more events organized…but this was a marathon, not a sprint and Remus would need to be just as sharp as he is now, several months from now too. “Do you think she knew you’d make a go of it?” Cemile asks sincerely, exhaling a puff of smoke into the night sky. “She probably wouldn’t admit it but…either way, I think she’d be proud.”
