Page 22

New Beginnings

Marco

I wake to the unfamiliar sensation of another body pressed against mine, the steady rhythm of Matteo’s breathing warming my neck.

For a moment, I simply absorb this feeling—the weight of his arm draped across my waist, the tangle of our legs, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against my back.

Never in my life have I experienced such profound intimacy, such complete acceptance of my whole self.

Carefully, I turn to face him, not wanting to disturb his sleep but desperate to see him. In repose, his face appears younger, the lines of determination and stress smoothed away. I trace the curve of his jaw with my fingertips, marvelling at the privilege of touching him this way.

His eyes flutter open, focusing slowly on my face. The smile that blooms across his features is breathtaking in its openness.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“Is it morning? I’ve lost all sense of time down here.”

He glances at his watch. “Nearly seven. We’ve been here almost twelve hours.”

The reminder of why we’re in this bunker—assassins hunting us both—casts a momentary shadow. Soon we’ll need to return to our separate worlds, to the dangers that await us outside this sanctuary.

“We should talk about what happens next,” I say, not moving from his embrace.

“Mmm.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Five more minutes of this first.”

I acquiesce easily, melting against him as his hands begin a lazy exploration of my body, retracing paths discovered hours earlier. But even as desire stirs again, my mind races ahead to the challenges we’ll face when we leave this room.

“Matteo,” I finally say, reluctantly pulling back slightly. “We need to plan.”

He sighs, propping himself up on one elbow. “You’re right. The security teams will be returning soon.”

We both sit up, the sheet pooling around our waists. The domesticity of the moment—discussing strategy while naked in bed together—strikes me as absurdly wonderful.

“I’ve been thinking about the Vatican Bank investigation,” I begin. “Cardinal Antonelli and his allies will expect me to retreat after this assassination attempt—to accept increased security that effectively isolates me.”

“That’s exactly what they want,” Matteo agrees. “To cut you off from your supporters, control your movements, limit your access to information.”

“Which is why I need to do the opposite.” I meet his eyes directly. “I’m going to call for a special synod.”

“A synod?” His eyebrows rise in surprise. “On the banking scandal?”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “On Church teaching regarding homosexuality, clerical celibacy, and marriage.”

His eyes widen. “Marco, that’s—”

“Revolutionary? Heretical? Political suicide?” I smile slightly. “Probably all three. ”

“Why now?”

I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. “Partly strategic. It will divert Antonelli’s attention, force him to fight on multiple fronts. While he’s rallying opposition to doctrinal changes, we can continue our financial investigation more freely.”

“And the other part?” Matteo asks softly.

“Because it’s time. Because what happened between us last night wasn’t wrong—it was sacred.

” My voice grows stronger as I continue.

“Because I’ve spent years studying Church history and theology, and I know that doctrine evolves.

What we consider unchangeable today was often hotly debated centuries ago. ”

Matteo studies me, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Since long before I became Pope,” I admit. “But I lacked the courage to act on my convictions. Recent events—and you—have helped me find that courage.”

He brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “The conservatives will fight you with everything they have.”

“Let them. I have truth on my side.” I squeeze his hand. “And what about you? What’s your next move?”

“I’m announcing formal corruption charges against Finance Minister Russo and Transportation Minister Bianchi today. The evidence connecting them to the Vatican Bank scheme is irrefutable.” His expression hardens. “My coalition might collapse over this, but I won’t back down.”

“New elections?”

“Possibly. But I believe the Italian people will support anti-corruption efforts, even if the political establishment doesn’t.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Besides, I’m tired of half-measures and political calculations. Aren’t you?”

“Completely.” I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his. “We could lose everything, you know. Your government, my papacy.”

“Or we could change everything.” His eyes hold mine, fierce with conviction. “Isn’t that worth the risk?”

Instead of answering, I kiss him—not with the desperate passion of last night, but with a steady certainty that feels like a vow. When we part, I whisper against his lips, “Whatever happens, I don’t regret a moment of this.”

“Neither do I.” He cups my face in his hands. “Not one second.”

We dress slowly, helping each other with buttons and straightening collars, each touch a lingering connection. As I fasten the last button on my cassock, I feel a momentary pang—the return to our formal roles, the necessary separation that awaits us.

“When will I see you again?” I ask, unable to keep the longing from my voice.

“I don’t know.” He adjusts my collar with gentle hands. “The security protocols will be intense for both of us after this.”

“We’ll find a way,” I promise. “Even if it’s just secure calls at first.”

He nods, then reaches into his pocket and presses something into my palm—a small silver medallion on a thin chain. “It was my grandfather’s. He gave it to me when I entered politics. Said it would protect me.” His smile is slightly embarrassed. “I’m not particularly superstitious, but…”

“But it seems to have worked so far,” I finish for him, deeply moved by the gesture. I slip the chain around my neck, tucking the medallion beneath my collar where it rests against my skin. “I’ll keep it safe until we meet again.”

A soft knock at the door signals the return of our security teams. Our time alone is ending.

“Ready?” Matteo asks, straightening his tie one final time.

“Ready.” I take a deep breath, feeling a new certainty settle within me. “Let’s change the world. ”

He grins, that familiar flash of confidence that first caught my attention in the Vatican library. “One scandal at a time.”

As the door opens and our separate security details enter, we exchange one last look—a silent promise that what began in these hidden hours will continue, no matter what challenges await us beyond this sanctuary.

The Pope and the Prime Minister step forward to meet their teams, but Marco and Matteo remain connected by something stronger than titles or protocols—a bond forged in truth, in danger, and in love that neither of us expected but both now recognize as a gift we won’t surrender easily.

* * *

I return to my private apartments as dawn breaks over St. Peter’s Square.

The Swiss Guard detail that escorted me from the secure bunker maintains a respectful silence, though I notice their questioning glances.

After twelve hours in isolation with Matteo, returning to my role feels like stepping into someone else’s life.

Captain Lorenzo Lombardi approaches as we reach my study door. “Your Holiness, with your permission, I’d like to provide a brief security update.”

“Of course, Captain. Please come in.”

Once inside, Lombardi stands at parade rest, his posture impeccable despite what must have been a sleepless night. “We’ve neutralized two of the three assassination teams, Your Holiness. Five suspects are in custody, being interrogated by a joint Vatican-Italian task force.”

“And the third team?”

His expression tightens slightly. “They escaped the initial dragnet, but Colonel Reichlin is coordinating with Italian authorities. We have descriptions and are monitoring all borders and transportation hubs. ”

“Any identification of who sent them?”

“Preliminary evidence suggests Calabrian ‘Ndrangheta involvement, as we suspected. The captured operatives are professional mercenaries with previous connections to organized crime.” He hesitates. “There are also indications of… internal assistance.”

“Someone within the Vatican,” I say. It’s not a question.

“Yes, Your Holiness. The assailants had detailed knowledge of security protocols and scheduling.” His eyes meet mine directly. “Colonel Reichlin has initiated a compartmentalized investigation. Only he and I have full access to the findings.”

“Good. I trust your discretion, Captain.” I pause. “And Prime Minister Valentini?”

“Secure at his residence, with enhanced protection. The Italian security services have implemented their highest protection protocols.” Lombardi’s expression remains professional, though I detect a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity—at my specific inquiry about Matteo.

“Thank you, Captain. Please keep me informed of any developments.”

“Of course, Your Holiness.” He bows slightly and exits, passing Cardinal Sullivan who appears at the doorway, relief evident in his tired face.

“Your Holiness, I was just speaking with Colonel Reichlin. Thank the Lord you’re safe.” Sullivan enters, his shoulders slumped with fatigue. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I expected, James,” I answer honestly. “Is Sister Lucia available? There’s something important I need to discuss with both of you.”

“She’s in the library, preparing a report on the security situation. I’ll have her join us immediately.”

While Sullivan makes the call, I move to my desk and begin writing rapidly, outlining thoughts that have been crystallizing throughout the night. By the time Sister Lucia arrives, I’ve filled several pages with notes.