Page 25

Pulling Threads

Matteo

I stride into my office with a lightness in my step that seems almost inappropriate given the gravity of the security situation.

But I can’t help it—the memory of Marco’s touch, his lips against mine, his hesitant then increasingly confident explorations—it’s all still burning through me like electricity.

“Good morning, Prime Minister,” my assistant says, handing me a stack of security briefings. “The cabinet is assembled in the conference room whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Elena. I’ll be there shortly.”

As I review the most urgent documents, I catch sight of myself in the reflection of my office window. There’s something different—a brightness in my eyes, a slight flush to my skin that no amount of political composure can fully mask.

The door opens without a knock, and Sophia walks in, two coffees in hand. My sister has never respected the formality of my office.

“I brought reinforcements,” she says, setting one cup on my desk. “Thought you might need it after your… late night.”

I accept the coffee without looking up. “Thank you. The security situation required immediate attention. ”

“Mmm-hmm.” She perches on the edge of my desk, a position she’s taken since we were children discussing secrets in our shared bedroom. “The security situation. Of course.”

I finally meet her eyes, finding them dancing with barely suppressed amusement.

“What?” I ask, though I already know.

“Nothing.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Just noticed you’re walking differently today. More… relaxed. Almost like someone who’s finally—”

“Sophia,” I warn.

“What? I’m just saying it’s nice to see you looking less tense.” She leans closer, dropping her voice. “Though I’m curious about who managed to accomplish what years of my nagging couldn’t.”

I stand, gathering my papers. “We have a cabinet meeting.”

“Fine, keep your secrets.” She moves toward the door, then pauses. “But whoever they are, I approve already. You look happy, Matteo. Even with everything going on, you look happy.”

As we walk together toward the conference room, she nudges my shoulder playfully and gives me a knowing wink. I roll my eyes but can’t suppress my smile entirely.

* * *

The cabinet room falls silent as I enter. Gabriella Esposito, my Justice Minister, looks up from her notes with a sharp gaze that misses nothing. Carlos Rossi, my Deputy Prime Minister, offers his usual slick smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

“Thank you all for coming on short notice,” I begin, taking my place at the head of the table. “As you know, we’ve uncovered significant evidence linking several government officials to organized crime through Vatican Bank connections. ”

I slide a folder toward the centre of the table.

“These documents detail transactions between Finance Minister Russo’s private foundation and shell companies controlled by the ‘Ndrangheta. Similar connections exist for Transportation Minister Bianchi and three parliamentary undersecretaries.”

Carlos leans forward, his expression carefully neutral. “These are serious allegations against prominent members of our coalition, Prime Minister. Perhaps we should discuss this privately before proceeding.”

“I’ve reviewed the evidence thoroughly,” I respond. “It’s conclusive. I’m instructing Justice Minister Esposito to proceed with formal investigations and prosecutions immediately.”

Carlos’s smile tightens. “With all due respect, Matteo, the political fallout will be enormous. Our coalition barely survived the last confidence vote. If we move against Russo and Bianchi now, we risk collapse.”

“And if we don’t,” Gabriella counters, “we betray everything this government stands for. Our anti-corruption platform isn’t just policy—it’s our core promise to the Italian people who elected all of us in this room.”

“I’m not suggesting we ignore corruption,” Carlos says smoothly. “Only that we approach it strategically. Perhaps focus first on lower-profile targets, build public support, then move on the ministers.”

I study Carlos carefully. His suggestion makes political sense, but something in his tone feels off. Is he genuinely concerned about our coalition’s stability, or is he trying to protect someone?

“We prosecute based on evidence, not political convenience,” I say firmly. “Justice Minister, you have my full authorization to proceed without delay or restriction.”

Gabriella nods, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. “We’ll begin with search warrants today. Financial records, communications, the works. ”

“The Vatican connection complicates matters,” Foreign Minister Rizzo points out. “We’re talking about sovereign territory.”

“We can’t prosecute Vatican officials,” I acknowledge, “but we can and will prosecute Italian citizens regardless of their connections. The Pope himself has indicated support for transparency.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “You’ve discussed this with the Pope?”

“We’ve had several meetings regarding matters of mutual concern,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral despite the flutter in my chest at the mention of Marco. “His Holiness is as committed to rooting out corruption as we are.”

“How convenient,” Carlos murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.

I ignore the comment and continue outlining our approach. For the next hour, we discuss legal strategies, public communications, and security measures. Throughout, I notice Carlos growing increasingly tense, though he masks it well behind his political smile.

As the meeting concludes, Gabriella remains behind while others file out. Carlos lingers at the door, watching us with thinly veiled suspicion before finally departing.

“He’s not happy,” Gabriella observes once we’re alone.

“No, he’s not.”

“Do you trust him?”

I consider the question carefully. “I trust that he acts in his own interest. Whether that aligns with ours remains to be seen.”

Gabriella nods. “I’ll watch my back, then. And yours.”

“The evidence against Russo and Bianchi—it’s solid?”

“Ironclad,” she confirms. “The financial trails are clear, and we have witness testimony from three former associates. They’re going down, Matteo. But this won’t be the end of it.”

“I know.” I run a hand through my hair. “Once we pull this thread, there’s no telling how much of the government unravels. ”

“Are you prepared for that? We could lose everything we’ve built.”

I think of Marco, of his courage in confronting centuries of entrenched power. “Some things are worth the risk, Gabriella. If we compromise now, what was the point of any of it?”

She studies me for a moment, then smiles slightly. “Something’s different about you today. You seem… I don’t know. Centred.”

“Just focused on what matters,” I reply.

As she leaves, I wonder how many people will notice this change in me before the day is done. Is it so obvious that one night with Marco has transformed me somehow?