Page 14 of The Bonventi Secret
But at times, my prison.
As I stare out, I think about how many lives depend on my decisions. How many families eat because of the jobs I provide, legal or otherwise?
And how many have I ended to keep this empire standing?
I think of Carmine, of the order I just gave. Another body to add to the pile, another soul on my conscience.
But it's necessary.
I turn back to my desk, eyes falling on the mounds of paperwork. Legitimate business contracts mixed with coded messages from our less-than-legal operations. This is what it means to be a Bonventi. To straddle the line between light and darkness, never fully belonging to either.
But that will all have to wait. I have a more pressing issue at hand.
I press the intercom button. "Send in Marcella."
Moments later, my assistant enters. She's been with me 12 years. She's efficient, discreet. She stands at attention before me, notepad at the ready.
"Marcella," I say, my voice direct. "Our guest will be arriving shortly. I need everything to be perfect. Do you understand?"
She nods. "Of course, Mr. Bonventi. What are your instructions?"
I lean against my desk, too anxious to sit. "The East Wing suite. Temperature at exactly 72 degrees. Egyptian cotton sheets, pressed twice. Aesop toiletries stocked on the right side of the bathroom, jasmine scent—not the rose. Fresh flowers in every room. Orchids in the bedroom, lilies in the sitting area. Nothing with a strong scent."
Marcella scribbles furiously, keeping up with my instructions.
"Extra security. Two guards outside her door at all times, rotating shifts every four hours. They are not to engage unless absolutely necessary. Is that clear?"
Marcella nods, her pen never stopping. "Understood, Don Enzo. Anything else?"
"Yes. Not a word of this to anyone. As far as the rest of the household is concerned, we're simply preparing for an important guest. Nothing more."
"Of course, Don Enzo. Discretion is assured."
As the door closes behind her, I'm left alone with my thoughts. Every detail, every minute aspect of Livia's arrival has been planned and accounted for. Control. It's what I do best. It's what keeps this empire running.
I walk over to my bar cart and pour myself a glass of my most expensive scotch. It's reserved for times when I'm nervous, and for some reason, I feel that emotion trying to make itself known. I savor the rich aroma of oak and vanilla before taking a sip. The liquid burns pleasantly as it slides down my throat.
Marriage. Love, I think to myself.What a fucking joke.
In my world, love is nothing but a weakness, a chink in the armor that can be exploited by enemies. I've seen it destroy empires, tear families apart, and reduce powerful men to rubble. It's a luxury I can't afford, and it has no place in my reality.
This marriage to Livia isn't about love. It's not even about companionship; I can get that whenever I want. No, it's a strategic move, a chess piece placed with precision.
I've done things my own way since becoming Don, but now that I'm 46, I need to start thinking about who will run things when I'm gone. I need children old enough to continue on. And I'm sick and tired of hearing my father's voice in my head telling me I'll fail the family if I don't produce heirs.
Livia is perfect and has lived a life away from all the corruption. She's pure and will bear strong children. Sons to carry on the family name, to be molded into the next generation of Bonventi leaders. And daughters? Valuable bargaining chips in their own right.
I drain the last of my scotch, feeling the warmth spread through my chest.
She may resist at first, but she'll learn. Personal desires mean nothing in the face of family duty. She'll adapt, or she'll break. Either way, she'll serve her purpose.
As I set down my empty glass, I allow myself a small, cold smile. Everything is proceeding according to plan.
The intercom on my desk buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. I press the button, my voice sharp. "What is it?"
"Mr. Bonventi," Marcella's voice comes through, clear and efficient. "The car carrying Ms. Falcone has just passed through the main gates. They'll be at the front entrance shortly."
My jaw tightens. "Understood. Bring them into my study. I'll be down shortly."
