Page 85 of The Bonventi Rise
"Marco, please—" My voice breaks.
"The election is in a few days. I need to focus on that," he says and stops for a moment. "I think it's best if you don't come."
My heart shatters. "What?" I ask, my hand instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach. Our baby shifts beneath my palm—too early to feel, but I know they're there. The secret I've been desperate to tell him, waiting for the perfect moment. Now I might never get the chance. The irony isn't lost on me—I kept meetings with Sandra secret to protect him, and now that secret might cost our child their father.
"I'll announce you're sick and couldn't be there. It's better this way." He turns toward the door. "I can't help but wonder what else you've been hiding from me. I just need time."
"Marco!" I step forward, but he moves away. "Please, you have to believe me!"
He pauses at the door, his hand on the handle. In this moment, he looks every inch the mobster I know he is—beautiful, dangerous, and completely unreachable.
"I thought I knew you, Alina. I thought what we had was real." His voice is low. "I guess we were both living a lie."
The door closes behind him, and I collapse onto the couch, tears streaming down my face as I realize I might have lost everything trying to protect him, allowing my ambition to get him ahead to cloud my judgment.
In a few days, he'll give his victory speech, and for the first time since this all began, I won't be by his side.
Little do I know, it's about to get so much worse.
42
ALINA
Islump deeper into the couch, my eyes fixed on the TV screen as the election results trickle in. I've kept the lights dim and the curtains closed, feeling it matches my mood—dark and gloomy. I reach for another tissue, dabbing at my puffy eyes, red and sore from days of crying.
The remnants of my dinner—if you can call three bags of chips and a pint of ice cream dinner—litter the coffee table. My stomach churns, though whether from the junk food or morning sickness, I'm not sure anymore.
The news anchor's voice drones on over exit polls and projected winner graphics, but my eyes are too swollen to properly see them.
"And the numbers coming in from Cook County show Marco Bonventi maintaining his strong lead..."
Marco's name sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest. I grab another tissue, dabbing at eyes that should be dry by now but somehow keep producing tears. The TV shows footage of him arriving at his campaign headquarters, lookingdevastatingly handsome in his navy suit. The same suit I helped him pick out a few weeks ago for tonight.
I take a sip of water, trying to wash away the acidic taste in my mouth. The ice has long since melted, making it tepid and unpleasant. Like everything else in this room, and in my life, it's just wrong. I swallow, wishing it was something stronger. But I can't. Not with the baby.
The baby Marco doesn't even know about.
The room lights up red as a breaking news announcement flashes across the screen.
"I'm getting word that with current early projections, we're getting ready to declare a winner in the race shortly..."
"Well, little one," I whisper down to my stomach through tears, "looks like your daddy's going to be a senator."
The screen cuts to Marco's campaign headquarters. He's there, smiling, waving to supporters. He looks happy. Confident. Like he doesn't even miss me.
A newscaster comes into view. "It's official. We're projecting a win for Marco Bonventi in the race for state Senate," the newscaster announces.
The room erupts in cheers on screen. As everyone celebrates, the camera pans the crowd. I spot Gio, smiling widely. Even Enzo and Livia are there, looking happy. Marco's family, rallying around him.
Fuck, I should be there, I think.
I should be by his side, celebrating this moment we worked so hard for. Instead, I'm alone, watching it all unfold on a stupid hotel TV.
The camera zooms in on a podium, and I see Sarah run up to it and grab the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for Marco Bonventi, your new state Senator."
Marco approaches the podium, waving and smiling. He adjusts the microphone, preparing to give some version of a speech we practiced together countless times leading up to today.
"My fellow citizens of Illinois," his smooth voice flows from the TV speakers, filling the hotel room. "Tonight, you have given me the greatest honor of my life."
