Incense and Sensibility (The Rajes #3) - Sonali Dev Page 0,1

not needing to expend energy on a relationship had meant undistracted focus on their work for both of them. Sure, it was unromantic, but romance hardly got things done.

Rico pressed his phone to his ear. “They’re ready for us. We’ve got to kill this one, Raje. We’ve got to put some distance between Cruz and you in the polls. I’m going to go get the crowd excited. Try to keep up.” Thumping Yash on the shoulder in his star-athlete way, he jogged out.

Abdullah Khan, Yash’s security guard, entered the holding room. “Rico’s about to pour fuel on them. You ready to throw the match, boss?”

A little morbid, but Yash loved it. He nodded. “Always ready.”

“Hey, Abdul. How’s the baby?” Nisha asked.

The burly giant, who could snap your neck with his bare hands and shoot you dead from five hundred feet, went as soft and fuzzy as the teddy bear Yash had brought Abdul’s newborn daughter yesterday. After seeing him hold the tiny pink bundle, Yash could not for the life of him stop thinking of the man as cuddly.

“She’s amazing. Has quite the lungs, just like her ammi.” Abdul winked.

“Thanks for being here,” Nisha said, hand on heart.

They had tried to get the man to take the week off after the baby was born, but he’d refused to let a new bodyguard take over just months before the election. Abdul had been with Yash since the start of the campaign and knew only too well how hard it was for Yash to trust new people.

“Where else would I be? Let’s go, boss, let’s get you elected.” Abdul hammed up a salute, then pointed with a flourish to the exit.

Nisha gave Yash a quick hug and hurried off to take care of the next thing, her pregnant belly not slowing her down in the least bit. Yash marched out behind Abdul.

This was Yash’s favorite part. This charged moment offstage, able to see the audience when they couldn’t see him, just before he went out into the bright lights. All the things he planned to address today were laid out in a precise grid in his head ready to be retrieved and articulated. Fiscal reform. Social reform. How the two intersected. His plans to tie them together.

A college campus was his crowd. Young people excited at the prospect of not having someone their parents’ age running things. All that raw hope that hadn’t yet been pounded down by cynicism and bills. Right and wrong still meaningful words not blurred by single-minded economic focus. Yash’s talking points about dismantling accumulation of wealth as a systemic norm were an easy sell here. Actually, it was a surprisingly popular opinion in the Bay, with its combination of greed and guilt.

The challenge was communicating the idea outside the bubble of the Bay without coming across as a hypocritical elitist. Being pro-business wasn’t a problem. It couldn’t be, in America. The problem was how businesses reallocated profits to affect economic change in communities where social change was most vital.

Talking points scrolled across his brain. His body vibrated with all that could be. Potential. Power. Purpose. This gave him life. This connecting with people. This knowing that he could change things for them.

Onstage, Rico had the crowd eating out of his hand. A chant of, “Yash is us,” started up and boomed across the arena like drumbeats. Excitement thrummed in the air like an electric force.

Abdul’s shoulders took up the rhythm of the chant even as he scanned the crowd with laser focus. Rico called out Yash’s name with all the aplomb of a sportscaster announcing a reigning champion before a big fight, and the cheering turned deafening.

“You’re a rock star, boss,” Abdul said, his fist bumping against Yash’s as they ran out onto the stage.

“I Love you, Yash Raje!” someone screamed from the crowd as though Yash really were a rock star.

It was the first sound to hit him as he faced the crowd, anticipation rising from it and rolling over him like a wave.

The second sound blew out his eardrums just as fire exploded in his arm.

Two more shots followed the first and Abdul’s body slammed against Yash’s, pushing him out of the way. Yash fell back, his legs flying out from under him as he watched Abdul slam his head on the podium and crumple to the floor across Yash’s legs. Everything inside Yash braced for more shots. When none came, he felt his heart start beating again, but when he tried to move .

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