Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,55
are full of color, her skin and hair look healthy and vibrant.
She’s the first of my siblings to have children. Looking at her, I feel so proud and happy for her.
But also, it gives me a little pain. I see Callum at her side, carefully holding her elbow so she can walk over the uneven ground safely in her high heels. He’s helping her, protecting her, hovering around her more than ever. He’s about to become a father, and I can tell that means much more to him than this rally, or anything else in the world.
I envy him.
I don’t care about anything as much as he cares about my sister and their child.
“You look beautiful,” I tell Aida, kissing her on the cheek.
“Oh god,” she laughs. “You know you must be the size of a walrus if your brother starts giving you compliments to cheer you up.”
“Have you been sick?” I ask her.
“No,” Callum says, giving her a stern look. “She’s just got swollen feet because she’s working too much.”
“It’s fine,” Aida says, winking at him, “You can rub them for me later.”
“Did you pick a name yet?” I ask her.
“I was thinking we could name him after Cal’s great-grandfather,” she says, grinning. “Don’t you think Ruaidhri just rolls off the tongue?”
“Absolutely not,” Cal says.
“It means ‘great king.’ ”
“You can’t be a king if nobody can pronounce your name,” Cal says. “Didn’t you have a grandpa named ‘Clemente?’ ”
“That sounds like a Pope,” Aida says, making a face.
“I think you’re supposed to name babies after objects now,” I tell her. “Apple, and Blue, and Fox, and stuff like that.”
“Oh, perfect!” Aida says cheerfully. “I’ll name him after where he was conceived. Sweet little Elevator Gallo . . .”
“I think you mean Elevator Griffin,” Cal corrects her.
“You’re going to be sitting up there, by the way,” I tell her, pointing to the left side of the stage.
“Oooh, padded folding chairs!”
“Only the best for my sister.”
“You can wait over there if you want,” I tell them, nodding toward the trailer stocked with snacks and drinks. “They’re going to start letting people onto the field in a minute.”
Aida squeezes my arm. “Thanks for babysitting us all today,” she says.
As she heads over to the trailer, Cal hangs back to talk to me for a minute.
“I don’t think there’s going to be any problem,” he says. “Anti-trafficking is maybe the one bipartisan issue we have left. Riona was just being paranoid.”
“You’re going to speak right after the mayor?” I ask him.
“Yeah. We’ve gotten pretty close the last couple months. He’s going to endorse me when I run for his position.”
“So he’s passing the torch.”
“Basically.”
“How much is that going to cost us?” I say in a low tone.
Cal snorts. “About Five hundred K. Paid via ‘speaking fees’ at future events.”
It’s crucial that Cal becomes mayor, so we can get the rest of our South Shore development approved.
“And Yafeu Solomon gets up right after you?” I say.
“That’s right.” Callum gives me a careful look. “Aida said there was some kind of history between your families.”
“I met him once,” I say stiffly. “There’s no connection between us.”
“Okay,” Cal says.
I can’t tell from his expression if Aida told him the whole story or not. But it’s clear from mine that I don’t want to talk about it. So Cal doesn’t push it. He just claps me on the shoulder and says, “See you in a bit.”
The rest of the hour passes in a blur of activity—getting the attendees situated on the open lawn, walking the perimeter once more, checking in with the far-flung members of the security team via our ear-pieces, and so forth. Peterson wrangles the speakers, organizing their positions on the stage so I don’t have to talk to Yafeu. I haven’t even seen him yet, since he was the last to arrive, while I was over on the south end of the lawn, dealing with the officers on loan from the Chicago PD.
Finally, music starts pouring from the speakers, as the organizers build the energy of the crowd. They’re playing “Start Me Up” by The Rolling Stones. I don’t know where they get their playlists, but the conjunction of rock stars and stodgy politicians has always seemed odd to me.
I guess there’s nothing stodgy about Cal. He looks tall, fit, handsome, and powerful as he strides across the stage, waving to the crowd. When I first met him, I thought he seemed intelligent, but he had this arrogance and