Page 59 of The Bonventi Rise
"Please don't be mad. I was just so overwhelmed with the harp and your actions. I thought if I could get any intel from Sandra, we could use it."
He looks at me for a moment, and then his serious face breaks into a smile.
"Alina, I see now you're doing this for me. That you've been loyal. My worry about losing you was dumb."
I lean into him, smiling. "You were worried about losing me, huh?"
"Easy now. But here's the thing," Marco sighs. "There are some things I need to tell you. Things I probably should've told youfrom the beginning, but, well, most don't know about them. Not for sure, anyway."
My stomach clenches. Here it comes—the truth I've been both dreading and hoping for.
"Okay," I nod. "What?"
He looks at me. "Are you sure, Alina? Knowing these things might complicate your mind. Your life, even."
"Marco, you know what I did this weekend? I spent time with a girlfriend, and all I did was talk about you. How much you upset me, how much I cared for you, how much you mean to me. And this ring," I say, holding up my hand, "I never took it off. I know it's stupid because it was given to me as a prop, but it's taken on so much more to me. I guess what I'm saying is I'm in this with you. I'll make sure you win, and when it's all over, maybe I'll stick around."
Marco leans in and kisses me. "You talk as if I'd allow you to leave me again," he says with a smile, rubbing my face.
I turn my head to lean into his touch for a moment before straightening up. "Now, tell me."
Marco lowers his hand, and I can see the gears in his head turning, choosing his next words carefully.
"The rumors about me, my family—they're not entirely untrue," he admits, his eyes never leaving mine. "We have connections. Businesses that aren't always on the up and up. But we're not the monsters Sandra is painting us to be."
I swallow hard, trying to process what he's saying, no longer able to tell myself they're "just rumors."
Part of me wants to pull away, to run. But a bigger part—the part that's been falling for Marco despite my best efforts—keeps me rooted to the spot.
"The Russians," he continues, "have been trying to move in on our territory for years. Sandra is their latest attempt. They're using her, the campaign, as a cover to discredit us and gain a foothold in Chicago. Whatever she's doing, whatever she has on me, the Russians are supplying it to her."
"So, you're saying your family is, what? Like the Italian mafia?" I ask, keeping my voice low as if someone might overhear.
Marco's eyes shift, taking on a serious undertone. "We prefer to think of ourselves as a family—businessmen with diverse interests. But yes, that's what the world would label us as."
"Huh," I say aloud.
I should be terrified. I should be running for the door. I've read up on the things the mafia does. But instead, I feel kind of badass. I'm with a man who has power—real power—not the watered-down version that permeates D.C.
"And Sandra? She's just a pawn?"
"Yes," Marco says, shaking his head. "The Russians are using her to try and take what's ours. What's mine."
I think of Sandra's smug face in that limo, how she thought she had me cornered. Now, knowing what I know, I want nothing more than to see her fall.
"What can I do?" I ask, surprising myself with my eagerness. "How can I help?"
Marco's eyebrows raise slightly. "You're not running for the hills? Most people would, knowing what you know now."
I shrug. "I just can't picture you doing the things Sandra said."
"Good, and hopefully you'll always think that way. Only my enemies see the Bonventi in me."
"Maybe, but honestly? You're the first person I feel truly believes in me. You build me up, never down. When I've made choices on your campaign, you've agreed without a fight. Most people think they know better and screw things up. I've spent my entire professional career—heck, maybe even my life—trying to prove myself, to gain even a fraction of the power you wield, and you've given it to me with your belief in me. The least I can do is return the favor."
He reaches out, his hand cupping my face. His touch is gentle. "You're remarkable, Alina. You know that? I knew you were special from the moment I met you."
I grab his hand and kiss his palm. I pull back slightly, meeting his intense gaze. "What am I to you, Marco? Really?"
