Page 1 of The Bonventi Rise
1
MARCO
“You want to be a senator?" Enzo asks, exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke that drifts through the amber light of his office. His voice carries a note of disbelief as he lounges in the leather armchair across from me. "That's a big spotlight to be under, Marco. But you've always enjoyed the warmth, haven’t you?" He asks with a laugh.
I set my drink down and lean forward, locking eyes with him. "You know how it goes, Zo. You and Gio thrive in the shadows, but that's where we're limited. Legitimacy, that’s the key to expanding our influence."
Enzo leans forward with a scoff, crushing the cigar between his teeth "Legitimacy? We’ve got half the city in our pocket already. The mayor does whatever we want, whenever we want. I think it’s a blessing he recovered. What more could you possibly need?"
"More than half a city," I reply, leaning back in my chair. "We have puppets, Zo. Puppets are unreliable. Weak. One federal investigation, and they’ll sing like fucking canaries." I pick up mydrink, taking a sip. "I’m tired of dealing with puppets. I want the whole damn state—and then some."
Enzo nods, and I can see his gears turning. My oldest brother has always been the pragmatic one, the rock that kept the Bonventi family steady after our father’s death. Being the Don suits him. But politics? That’s my domain.
"And you think you won’t draw attention?" he asks, his voice sharp. "A Bonventi running for state senate?"
"It gives us legitimacy, Zo," I insist, my voice growing more passionate. "Think about it. A Bonventi in the Senate means access—to information, to influence over legislation. We’d shape the very laws that have held us back. No more bribing politicians when we can become the politicians."
Enzo takes a puff of his cigar and sets it down. "You’re my brother, so I’ll tell it to you straight. You becoming vice-mayor was the upper limit of what I was comfortable with. But you’ve got a knack for this shit, I’ll give you that. Even Livia asks why you’re not running for president." He smirks, shaking his head. "Still, I'm on the fence with this. It feels too big, too exposed."
I drum my fingers on the wooden armrest for a moment, contemplating my next words. This is the clash we’ve had many times in our lives—his older way of thinking versus embracing a newer, different path.
"I get it. It’s not how we’ve done things before. But Zo, the people love me, and I'm fucking good at it. In the political world, I'm just a successful businessman who happens to be in politics. Mafia ties are mere rumors I can discredit, thanks to how you run this family."
He stares at me for what feels like five minutes, going back and forth in his head. I can't take the silence; I never could. "You do what you’re meant to do. Now, it’s my turn to contribute in the way I’m meant to. It's time for me to be the strategic asset this family needs—to fulfill my role."
Enzo takes a long drag from his cigar, the Cuban scent thick in the air. Finally, he exhales and nods. "Just don’t fucking get yourself killed out there. And don’t expose the family."
I smile, pick up my glass, and raise it into the air. "I try to avoid both of those things every day."
He laughs and picks up his whiskey. "Now you're a Bonventi, so I know you're going to win, but I'd like to know how."
I turn and reach into my bag, unable to hide the smile on my face, and pull out a manila folder, setting it on the table between us. "Her," I say, opening the file. "Alina Carter. She'll be my campaign manager. She's a fighter. Brilliant. The best. She'll get me to the Senate."
Enzo glances at the picture and the documents inside. "Her?" He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "She looks like trouble."
I laugh, tapping the edge of the photo. "Oh, she is. The best kind of trouble. She just doesn't know it yet."
Enzo takes a sip of his whiskey, considering. "And you’re sure you can handle her? Political types can be slippery."
I close the file, my smile turning predatory. "Trust me, brother. By the time I'm done, she'll be eating out of my hand. And so will the voters of Illinois."
I lean back, a sense of triumph swelling in my chest. "We have less than 12 months before election day, so I'll need to move fast. I, of course, wanted to talk to you first before I did anything."
Enzo takes one last drag from his cigar before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "I'm here to help in any way I can, Marco, but remember. This family comes first. Always."
I nod, my expression stoic. "Always, Zo. You have my word."
I rise to leave, the thrill of ambition coursing through me, and I can feel Enzo's eyes on me, assessing.
I've won this round, but I know the real battle is just beginning. The path to power is never easy, but I'm ready for it. More than ready. Politics has always been my game, my source of pride, my everything to this family.
As I reach the door, I pause, glancing back at my brother. "We're going to make history, Zo. Just watch."
Enzo raises his glass in a mock toast. "To the future Senator Bonventi. May God have mercy on Illinois."
I grin. "God’s not part of this plan, brother. It’s all us."
2
