Brutal Prince (Brutal Birthright)
“I would never abandon you,” she says.
We’re spinning slightly in the current, the city lights rotating around us. We’re holding each other, looking into each other’s eyes, while our feet tread water.
“Neither would I,” I promise her. “I’ll always find you, Aida.”
She kisses me again, her lips chilly and trembling, but still the softest thing I’ve ever touched.
23
Aida
The election takes place two days later.
Cal is all patched up. He needed stitches for a couple of the slashes, but now you’d hardly know he’d been in a fight. I, on the other hand, have to wear a
giant cast, since apparently that idiot bouncer broke two of my fingers when he slammed the trunk on my hand. Now I’m extra glad I shot him.
It’s making it damn hard to type anything on my phone, which is annoying, because I have a very important project in the works, and I don’t want it getting all fucked up because I can’t check my email.
“I can help you with that,” Cal says, reaching out to take my phone. “You can dictate, and I’ll type.”
“No!” I say, snatching it back. “I don’t need help.”
“What are you doing?” he asks suspiciously.
“None of your business,” I tell him, tucking the phone back in my pocket.
He frowns. He’s already on edge because we’re supposed to be getting the election results any minute. I really shouldn’t bait him.
His phone rings, and he almost jumps out of his skin. He holds it to his ear, listening.
I can visibly watch as the relief pours over him. He hangs up the call, grinning.
“Congratulations!” I shout.
He picks me up and spins me around, until I lock my legs around his waist and kiss him for a very long time.
“You did it,” I say.
He sets me down again, his bright blue eyes boring into mine.
“We did it together, Aida. We really did. You got me the extra support I needed from the Italians. You helped me win over the right people. I want you to come work with me. Every day. Once you graduate, I mean.”
My heart gives a funny little flutter.
That’s crazy. A couple of weeks ago, I hardly thought Callum and I could share a room without murdering each other.
“Roommates and coworkers?” I say teasingly.
“Why not?” Callum frowns. “You’d get sick of me?”
“No. You’re not exactly the chatty type,” I laugh. “Actually, you’re pretty . . . calming to be around.”
It’s true. When Cal’s not driving me into a rage, he steadies me. I feel safe around him.
“What are we going to do about Zajac, though?” I ask him.
Dante and Nero made off with about $500K in cash from the Butcher’s casino, as well as smashing up a bunch of his machines. We haven’t heard anything since. Which seems like it must be the calm before the storm.