Page 44 of The Bonventi Rise

Yes, I found my own research when looking, but on paper, it's just rumors. Nothing concrete, nothing a court of law has found. This could all just be her way of swaying people to win the vote.

I open a new document and start compiling a list of Sandra's most damaging claims. Instead of mixing in everything I've read or the crazy thoughts in my head, I'll write down only what she's said—only what we need to focus on and worry about.

It's only her remarks we'll need to address head-on. There is a lingering thought of how I can craft rebuttals when I'm not even sure what's true and what isn't, but I'll suppress that.

Let's just make a list of these bold claims about him and his family.

Money laundering.

Extortion.

Violence.

Witness tampering.

Each claim makes my chest tighter. Maybe this wasn't a good idea right now. It's late.

These can't be about Marco.

The memory of his hands on me floods back. His lips on my skin, the way he made me feel so completely owned. I can't deny the way my body responds to him, but I also can't ignore the gnawing doubt in my gut that it might be clouding my judgment.

I can't let that happen again.

My phone buzzes, startling me. Marco's name flashes across my screen. It's a text from him.

I'm back. Any chance you're still up, Firefly?

I bite my lip, debating whether to respond. Part of me wants to confront him, to demand answers about his family's past. But another part, the part that still feels the fire of his touch on my skin, wants to believe in the man I've come to know and push all the negative thoughts out of my head.

"Yes, I'm up," I type back, then delete it. Rewrite it. Delete again. Finally, I just send,

Yes.

My phone buzzes instantly.

Can't sleep. Mind if I come over? We should talk about Sandra.

My heart skips. Shit, he already knows about her? Ugh, of course he does. He probably has eyes everywhere. I glance around my messy apartment, at the empty coffee mug, scattered papers, and, ugh, my appearance. I don't think gray sweatpants do it for a Marco-type man.

Sure

I reply, trying to sound casual.