Page 38 of The Bonventi Rise
When I've gone over what to say enough times to avoid sounding like an idiot, I stand and walk toward Alina's office.
I hesitate for a moment outside, a pause I find interesting because it's not something I normally experience.
I knock a few times, and her voice lights up my ears. "Come in."
I enter, and she's sitting at her desk, looking relaxed and concerned at the same time.
"What are you still doing here? Don't you have a city to charm?" she says with a slight smile.
"I could ask you the same thing, Firefly. You've been here since early this morning, haven't you?"
She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk. Her black hair falls over her shoulders, and she pushes a few strands behind her ear. "Yes. Work, then your party, and now work again. It's been a long day."
I take a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk. "You should've left with the others. You don't need to burn yourself out," I say with a smile.
A smile because it's the exact opposite of how I feel. Not that I want her to burn out, but that she should've left—I'm glad she didn't.
Her lips curve into a small, tired smile. "Says the man who's been running on three hours of sleep for the past week."
I laugh, shaking my head. "Touché. But seriously," I say, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. "About that fake journalist—don't let what he said get to you. He was just trying to stir up trouble."
She looks up, her green eyes meeting mine. "I honestly don't remember much of what he said. It's weird—I kind of blacked out in the moment." She reaches for her phone. "But I've been watching all these viral videos of us, of you defending me."
I lean forward, intrigued. "And?"
She smiles as she scrolls through her phone. "The young voters are still eating it up. According to them, one Marco Bonventi is my knight in shining armor." She laughs softly. "The comments are pretty entertaining. Lots of heart emojis and declarations of undying love for you, so if you're ever lonely…" she trails off.
Pride swells in my chest, but not from the public's reaction. The way she says it, with that hint of amusement in her voice, affects me more than I care to admit.
"Good," I say, keeping my voice steady. "That's exactly what we need. The youth vote could make all the difference."
"I know." She sets her phone down and stretches, her movement drawing my attention to the curves of her body and chest. "The engagement metrics are insane. We couldn't have planned this better if we tried."
I get a sudden urge to tell her how beautiful she looks right now, how watching her work makes me forget this is all supposed to be just business. Instead, I say, "You've done well, Firefly. Very well. I'm proud of you."
She looks at me for a long moment, and I can see something shifting behind her eyes. "Marco," she says softly, "I… I want to thank you. For standing up for me. Even if it was just for show, it meant a lot."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. For a moment, I see this brilliant, beautiful woman who's been hurt and doesn't believe she deserves to be defended.
"Alina," I say, my voice low and serious. "It wasn't just for show. You're my partner in this, fake engagement or not. I won't let anyone disrespect you like that. I will protect you no matter what."
She blinks rapidly, and I realize she's fighting back tears. "Yeah, well, thanks," she whispers.
I change the subject to lighten the mood.
"So," I say, clearing my throat, "tell me more about these young voters. What are they saying about me again?"
She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Oh god."
"What?" I laugh. "What was that bit about the knight? Love? Good looking? Did someone say that?"
"You're impossible," she says with a genuine laugh, covering her face.
I grin, leaning in slightly. "That's why you like me."
"Don't push it."
I stand and hold out my hand.
