Chapter 26 Alina
ALINA
Once Marco leaves, I clean the house, shower, dress, and prepare to head out. The entire time, my thoughts swing from Marco's hands on me to Sandra freaking Reeves. I promise myself I'm going to talk to him about her.
I mean, I'm his campaign manager first, so it would seem out of the blue if I corner him when I see him later at the office. I know he came over under those pretenses and things took a turn—I mean, who wants to talk about what could go wrong in a campaign? But we'll need to address things.
I give myself one last look over, grab my purse and bag, and head out. It's a nice mid-morning in Chicago, and the air smells crisp and clean. I stop by my favorite coffee shop and order my, almost daily, favorite—double cappuccino.
I grab my coffee and head outside. I take a sip of my drink, savoring the hot and bitter liquid on my tongue. The sun warms my face as I start walking.
I turn the corner to head down to the office when I notice two large men approaching me. Their demeanor and stern expressions set off alarm bells in my head. My heart rate jumps, and I tighten my grip on my coffee cup.
"Ms. Carter," the one on the left says, his voice deep and stern. "Someone would like to speak with you."
I force a polite smile, trying to mask my unease. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I have a busy schedule today. If someone wants to speak with me, they can contact my office."
I try to step around them, but they shift, blocking my path. The coffee suddenly feels heavy in my hand, and I resist the urge to throw it at them and run.
"I'm afraid this isn't a request," the one on the right says, gesturing to a black limousine idling at the curb.
My eyes dart around the street. People walk past, absorbed in their phones, not noticing—or choosing not to notice—what's happening. I could scream, but something tells me these men wouldn't care about the attention.
"Look," I say, sounding brave, "I don't know who you are or who you work for, but I'm not going anywhere with you. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
I try to push past them again, but they don't allow me to move.
"Please don't make this difficult," the man on the left says, his words a thinly veiled threat.
I hesitate for a moment.
"Fine," I spit out through my clenched jaw. "But touch me, and I'll make sure every news outlet in Chicago knows about this little intimidation tactic."
They escort me toward a sleek black limousine parked nearby. The tinted windows reveal nothing of what, or who, waits inside. The men remain just close enough to grab me if I run but careful not to make contact.
One opens the door, and I slide inside, my hands trembling slightly as I clutch my coffee.
The interior is dimly lit, and as my eyes adjust, I find myself face to face with her.
With Sandra Reeves.
My stomach drops. Of all the people I expected to see, she wasn't even on the list. She sits across from me, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable.
She's dressed impeccably in a cream-colored tailored suit, every inch the polished politician she portrays to the public.
And her smile reminds me of a shark—all teeth and no warmth.
"Ms. Carter," she says, her voice smooth as silk. "I hope you don't mind the dramatic invitation. I find it's sometimes necessary to ensure important conversations happen."
"Kidnapping is a federal offense," I say, keeping my voice cold. "Or did you forget that part during your time as a prosecutor?"
She laughs. "Kidnapping? Oh, who's using dramatic tactics now? Please, I'm merely offering you a ride and some friendly advice."
The limo starts moving.
I scoff, "I don't need advice from someone who has to force people into cars to have a conversation."
"Oh, but you do," Sandra leans forward slightly.
"Look," I say, setting my coffee in a nearby cupholder, "I don't know what this is about, but if you have something to say, say it. I have a campaign to run."
Sandra looks at me for a moment, as if trying to read my face.
"I'm curious," she finally says, her voice deceptively casual, "how much do you really know about the man you're working for? About the family you've aligned yourself with?"
I clench my fists. "I know enough to be his fiancée," I reply, trying to sound relaxed.
She laughs.
"Please, fiancée? Really? He just happens to be engaged to one of the top political campaign managers in the country? Oh, how convenient for Mr. Bonventi."
I'm getting worked up now. "I fail to see how that's any of your business."
Sandra smiles. "Oh, my dear, it's very much my business. You see, I've made it my mission to clean up this city, to root out the corruption that's been festering for far too long. And the Bonventis? They're at the very heart of it all."
My stomach churns, but I maintain my poker face. "If you have evidence of wrongdoing, present it. Otherwise, this conversation is over."
"You're smart, Alina. Too smart to be this na?ve. Did you know about the three witnesses who mysteriously disappeared during the 2018 investigation into Bonventi Shipping? Or about the string of suspicious deaths surrounding their real estate acquisitions?"
My blood runs cold, but I force myself to maintain my composure. "If you had any evidence of wrongdoing, you'd go to the authorities, so I'm not interested in talking gossip with you."
She stares at me again, mulling over what I said.
"I'm giving you a chance," Sandra says, her voice softening in a way that feels more threatening than comforting. "A chance to get out before you're in too deep. Before you become collateral damage in a war you didn't even know you were fighting."
I roll my eyes. "A chance?"
She nods. "Come work for me. Be on the right side of history. Of change. Together we can bring down the corrupt Bonventis and free Illinois of their power."
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. "And if I refuse your generous offer?"
Sandra's eyes harden. "Well, in that case, I can guarantee this ends badly for you, Ms. Carter. You'll leave me no choice. And trust me, when the dust settles, you'll find yourself buried right alongside the Bonventis."
The limo stops right outside Marco's headquarters.
"Here, take my card. Think about it."
I don't know why, but I reach out and take it and shove it in my purse. The door opens, and as I slide out, she calls out to me.
"Ms. Carter. I'm sure I don't need to convince you what side your father would want you on."
Before I can even respond, the driver shuts the door and walks away. I stand there for a moment as the limo drives off.
"Wow, fancy ride to work, Alina," Sarah says, walking up to me.
"What? Oh, yeah," I laugh nervously. "Just a meeting. Not the norm."
We walk inside, and I head to my office without a word. My head is spinning, and now I'm questioning everything.