Page 34 of The Bonventi Rise
"Ms. Carter," a voice cuts through the crowd. "I have a question for you."
The room goes quiet as I plaster on my most professional smile, but my heart rate kicks up a notch.
"Of course," I say smoothly. "And you are?"
A man I don't recognize steps forward. His pressed suit and polished shoes tell me there's something off about him. His eyes are too keen, his smile too sharp.
"John Doe, Independent Press," he says, and alarm bells start ringing in my head.
Obviously not your real name.
"Ms. Carter, how do you sleep at night knowing you silenced those women in the Governor Harrison case?"
The room goes eerily quiet, and I stare at the man, noticing his press badge is missing. His eyes are cold, predatory.
How the hell did he get in?
"I'm sorry?" I keep my voice steady, professional, even as my stomach knots, trying to buy time.
"I said, how do you?—"
"I don't—" My voice cracks. I clear my throat, trying to maintain composure while my world threatens to crumble. Again. "I think there's been a misunderstanding?—"
"Is it true you personally threatened one of the victims?" He presses forward, voice rising. "That you told her no one would believe her over the governor?"
My hands start to shake. I can hear the soft beeps of recording devices starting, see the hungry looks in the influencers' eyes as they angle for the perfect shot of my downfall.
Marco pulls me back as he steps forward, coming between me and the man.
"That's quite enough," Marco's voice cuts through the haze, sharp and authoritative. "I'd be careful if I were you about making unfounded claims and accusations, Mr. Doe."
The man tries to speak again, but Marco silences him.
"This is a birthday celebration, not a witch hunt. If you have legitimate questions, you can direct them to our press office during normal business hours."
The man won't let up, and I see Marco step forward as Gio quickly approaches. They exchange words, but my chest is so tight, and I can't breathe. It feels like I'm underwater, everything muffled and distorted. I can't make out anything anyone is saying.
Gio appears out of nowhere, and his solid frame forcibly ushers the man away as the crowd cheers.
Marco turns to me. "Alina," he says low and urgent in my ear. "Breathe. You're okay. We've got this." He takes my hand and walks me to the corner of the room.
"Get music playing now," he says, and the speakers pump out dance mixes as people slowly start chatting and dancing again.
"Here, drink this," he says, opening a water bottle and handing it to me.
I take a few sips as Marco rubs my arm. "Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yes, I just wasn't expecting that."
Marco shakes his head. "Yeah, he's an asshole. Didn't even have press credentials. I think he snuck in."
"Snuck in?" I ask, pausing before taking another sip of water. "Why?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I'll find out, but fuck him. Are you sure you're okay?"
"You don't have to pretend when the cameras aren't on us, you know," I say.
I can see a bit of frustration flash in his eyes. "I'm not pretending."
