Page 7 of The Bonventi Rise
There’s another lingering gaze that makes me feel like I’m slipping out of work Alina and into something I can't allow.
So I lean forward slightly, resting my forearms on the table. "Mr. Bonventi—Marco," I say, correcting myself. "While I appreciate the hospitality, I’m curious about the nature of this meeting and opportunity."
His smile doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes. He takes a sip of his coffee, and I find myself tracking his movements closely. "Straight to business. I admire that, Alina," he says, my name rolling off his tongue a little too perfectly.
"You know, when I became Vice Mayor, I had big dreams for Chicago. Still do, in fact."
I nod, encouraging him to continue while my mind races. Is this what I think it is?
"Chicago is at a crossroads," he begins, his voice taking on that practiced cadence I’ve heard from countless politicians, though none who made it sound quite so seductive. "The state too, in fact. It’s in desperate need of leadership that understands both its history and its potential."
"And you see yourself as that leadership?" I ask, breaking off a piece of the pastry a waiter has just given us.
"I’ve done good work as Vice Mayor," he says, his dark eyes watching me intently, his presence somehow filling all the spacebetween us. "But I’m destined for greater things, and I believe I can make a real difference. A positive impact on Chicago and Illinois as a whole, with a broader reach."
The way he says it, it’s like he’s stating a fact rather than sharing a dream. "That’s admirable," I say, matching his intensity. "And how exactly do you plan to achieve that?"
Marco leans back, a wolfish grin spreading across his face that makes heat pool in my lower stomach. His fingers drum once on the table—long, elegant fingers that I force myself not to stare at. "I’m glad you asked. You see, Alina," he practically purrs my name, "I believe my talents for this state would be best utilized at the senatorial level."
My eyebrows shoot up. "You’re running for state Senate?"
"I am," he confirms and leans forward, closing the distance between us until I can catch a hint of his cologne—something expensive and masculine that makes my head spin. "And I want you to help me win as my campaign manager."
5
ALINA
And there it is.
The offer I'd suspected was coming. The private jet, the luxurious accommodations, the charm offensive—it all makes sense now. He's courting me, professionally speaking. But even as I process this, a part of me remains on edge. I've spent years reading politicians, learning their tells, their hidden motives. Marco's performance is flawless, perhaps too flawless.
"That's quite an opportunity," I say carefully, studying his face and buying some time. "But why me, specifically? I'm sure there are plenty of campaign managers in Chicago who'd jump at the chance."
Marco laughs. "Don't play coy with me, Alina. We both know you're not just any campaign manager. A woman of your talents stands out," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "You're the best. Your track record speaks for itself. The Harrison campaign was masterfully handled. You have a gift for narrative control, for turning potential disasters into victories."
"You've done your homework," I observe, keeping my voice steady.
"I always do," he replies, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. "I know talent when I see it, Alina. And I believe together, we could make history."
"It's an interesting offer, but I have to ask—why the state Senate? Why now?"
His expression softens. "Chicago needs a voice. Strong, assertive. Someone who understands the city's unique challenges and opportunities. I believe I am that voice."
"And your family's business interests?" I probe gently. "I've read the articles online. How do they factor into this?"
Marco smiles. "Digging into my past already?" he asks, his eyes gleaming. "I like a woman who's thorough. Though there are much more enjoyable ways to get to know me."
I roll my eyes slightly. "I've looked into some things, yes."
"I see. Well, let me clear the air. My family has always been dedicated to the prosperity of Chicago. My candidacy would be an extension of that commitment."
"And if I say no?" The words come out before I can stop them.
Marco's eyes harden. "Well, I’d be sad that my time with you was so short, but no hard feelings. We’d finish our breakfast, and you’d catch your flight back to D.C. tomorrow afternoon." He pauses, letting the words sink in.
I take a sip of water, buying time to think. The smart move would be to decline politely and get the hell out of Chicago. But a voicein the back of my mind whispers:This may be your chance. First state, then federal, then white house.
"I'll need time?—"
