Chapter 40 Marco
MARCO
Ipour myself a glass of whiskey. It's one of my more expensive bottles and I think now's the time to breathe a little.
The election is days away, and after everything, we're coming into it really unopposed and leading in the polls. There are a few other independent small-time candidates running, but with Sandra gone, it's mine for the taking.
I take a sip, and the burn is exactly what I'm after. It feels so good to finally achieve what I've been working toward for so long. On top of this upcoming victory, I have a woman in my life who is my guiding light—my Firefly.
I loosen my tie and take a seat in the sofa chair in my office.
It's been a long day—the last of my public relations photo ops before the big day.
Poor Alina has been running herself ragged these past few weeks, so focused and concerned with everything.
She's been so run-down that she basically collapses into bed and falls asleep, sometimes without even changing.
Like tonight, she opted to head back to the Capstone to sleep, while I returned here to take care of a few things.
I take a moment to reflect on what it will be like once I become senator. What it means to me, to the family, and my ambitions for the future—and there are many things I want to do.
I feel as if my whole life has led to this moment. What I was meant to do, to become, is only a few days away.
Fuck, does it feel good, I think, downing the whiskey.
As I set the crystal glass on my table, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out and see Gio's name. It's a text.
Where you at?
I quickly type back.
Office.
Stay there. Be there in 10.
True to his word, there's a knock on my door, and Gio enters.
"Good to see you, little brother," Gio says, shutting the door.
"You want a drink?" I ask, standing to pour myself another. "You're one behind."
He shrugs.
"It's a 35-year."
"Sure, why not," he says.
I pour our drinks as Gio takes a seat.
I hand him his glass and sit down.
"So, how you feeling?" Gio asks. "Almost election day."
I smile. "Yeah, I can't believe it. Honestly, I feel great. We did it," I say, leaning forward and holding out my glass. Gio taps it with his.
"We did, Marco. We did."
He takes another sip and sets his glass down.
"I, uh, I've got some news. But first, promise me that how you feel right now won't change."
I put my drink down. "How the hell can I promise that if I don't know what you've got?"
He laughs. "Yeah, well, just don't let this rain on your parade is all I'm saying."
I lean back in my chair, eyeing Gio carefully. My brother's never been one for beating around the bush, so his hesitation makes me a bit nervous.
"Alright, out with it," I say.
"We've managed to get some information from someone inside Sandra's camp."
"Okay, and? She's done," I say firmly.
He nods. "Yes, but he gave us something interesting." Gio pulls out his phone, his thumb sliding across the screen. "But you're not going to like it."
My stomach tightens. "Shit, just—"
"It's about Alina," he says, cutting me off.
"What about her?" I ask, knowing damn well there's a part of me that doesn't want the answer.
"She's had meetings with Sandra. Several, in fact, over the past few weeks."
"No. That's bullshit. She wouldn't—"
"Marco." Gio's voice is firm. "I wish it weren't true, but we have proof." He taps the screen a few times before handing it to me. "Take a look."
I lean forward and take his phone.
The security footage is from a camera far away, but it's crystal clear. There's Alina, wearing that blue dress I bought her, walking into Sandra's campaign headquarters. The timestamp shows a date a few weeks ago.
"Swipe left. There's more," Gio says.
I do. Another image. Different day. Different outfit. Then another.
I clench my jaw. "These could be doctored."
"They're not," Gio says, leaning forward. "She's been there at least three times that we know of."
"Fuck," I say, handing the phone back to Gio, my mind reeling.
"There's more," Gio says. "Our guy overheard bits of their conversations. It seems Sandra was offering Alina a job. Sandra even mentioned to someone that she had her turning against us."
"Dammit!" I stand up, pacing. "I fucking trusted her!"
"Marco—"
"I let her in, Gio. I told her everything about the family, about Sandra's Russian connections. I—" My voice breaks. "I fell in love with her."
Gio stands. "Hey, I get it. I was hurt too when I saw this. She’s a good person. Maybe there's an explanation."
"An explanation?" I turn to him. "She's been secretly meeting with the woman who tried to destroy me. No, it makes sense now."
The date on the first footage of her entering Sandra's office was right around the time Alina started acting different. I'd chalked it up to campaign stress, but now, her not eating or sleeping was probably her guilt.
God, she wouldn't betray me, would she?
"I have to go. I need to have a conversation with my fiancée."
"Marco, don't do anything stupid."
"Don't worry, brother. I just want to hear what she has to say for herself. Send me those files."
As I walk out, all I can think about is how many times I've warned her about loyalty. How many times I've told her what happens to people who betray the family.
How many times I've promised to protect her, never imagining I'd end up needing protection from her.
I grip the steering wheel tightly as I speed through Chicago's streets. My mind's a battlefield of conflicting thoughts, each one more painful than the last.
She wouldn't. Not Alina.
But the images flash through my mind again—her walking into Sandra's headquarters, that blue dress I bought her cutting into me like a knife. Once. Twice. Three times.
I slam my hand against the wheel. "Fuck!"
Maybe there's an explanation. The thought is desperate, pathetic. Maybe she was gathering intel. Maybe—
But why wouldn't she tell me?
I park and make my way up to the suite.
One part of me wants to burst in screaming. Another part prays all of this is some horrible mistake.
I swipe the card, and the door unlocks.
And there she is, turning to look at me with those green eyes I've grown to trust and love—or thought I did.