Rishi Sunak hadn’t felt this loved up since his early days with Akshata. He’d only gone to the Brothers of Italy convention in Rome out of curiosity and to return a favour. Giorgia Meloni had been the only world leader to make the effort to turn up to his spectacularly pointless AI summit in Bletchley. The one where he had come to the stunning conclusion that AI could be both good and bad. You can’t buy that level of insight. Thankfully.
What he hadn’t expected was an instant attraction. The connection that comes between soulmates. For the first time in ages, Rish! felt truly seen. Truly heard. He felt complete. Someone with whom he could share his innermost fascisty thoughts without fear of being judged. Who would listen to his dreams of sending refugees to Rwanda and make them her own. By the end of the weekend they had had no need of a verbal language. Their minds and bodies were as one.
