Page 32

Exposure

Marco

I stare at the black and white photographs spread across my desk, my heart hammering against my ribs.

There we are—Matteo and I—locked in an unmistakable embrace on the beach, our silhouettes clear against the moonlight.

Another shows us on the villa’s terrace, his hand cupping my face with such tenderness that even in grainy monochrome, the intimacy is undeniable.

“How?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Cardinal Sullivan closes my office door before answering.

“Long-range lens. The photographer was positioned on a boat offshore—freelancer working for one of the tabloids.” He sits heavily in the chair across from me.

“I was able to intercept him before publication. My contacts at the paper owed me a favour.”

“And the negatives?” I ask, knowing how these things work.

“Destroyed, along with all digital copies.” Sullivan’s weathered face shows no judgment, only concern. “He was generously compensated for his exclusive that never ran. The story is contained… for now.”

I gather the photographs with trembling hands, resisting the urge to linger on the images that capture moments I’ve replayed in my mind countless times since that night .

“Thank you, James.” I rarely use his first name, but this moment demands the intimacy of it. “I don’t know how to—”

He raises a hand to stop me. “Don’t thank me, Marco. This isn’t about approval or disapproval. This is about protecting you—and the reforms we’re fighting for.”

I nod, unable to meet his eyes. “I know what you must think.”

“You don’t, actually.” His tone makes me look up. “I’ve known many good priests who’ve struggled with this particular teaching. Some left. Some stayed and suffered in silence. Some found… accommodations with their conscience.”

“And what do you think I should do?” I ask, genuinely wanting his counsel.

Sullivan sighs, leaning forward. “As your advisor, I should tell you to end it immediately. The risk is astronomical—not just to you personally, but to everything we’re trying to accomplish.

” He pauses. “But as your friend… I see how you’ve changed these past months.

There’s a light in you that wasn’t there before. ”

I feel tears threatening and blink them back. “I never expected this. Never sought it out.”

“Few of us seek out the most profound challenges to our understanding of ourselves.” He gestures to the photos. “But Marco, you must be more careful. These were taken at what you thought was a secure location. Nowhere is truly private for men in your positions.”

“I know.” I gather the photographs and place them in my desk drawer, turning the key. “But I can’t—” My voice breaks. “I can’t stop seeing him, James. I’ve tried to reason with myself, to pray for guidance. But when we’re apart, it’s like part of me is missing.”

Sullivan’s expression softens with something like compassion.

“Then you need to be smarter about it. No more beaches. No more terraces. No windows.” He stands, straightening his cassock.

“The Vatican has many rooms without windows, Your Holiness. Many passages unknown even to those who’ve spent lifetimes within these walls. ”

I understand what he’s suggesting. “Sister Lucia and Father Tomás—”

“Already know, I suspect. They’re loyal to you, not to doctrine.” He moves toward the door. “Captain Lombardi as well. Build your circle carefully, Marco. Trust only those who’ve proven themselves.”

As he reaches for the door handle, I call out, “James? How did you know to intercept that photographer?”

A small, sad smile crosses his face. “Because I’ve been watching out for exactly this scenario since the night you two disappeared into that bunker during the assassination threat.” He shrugs at my surprised expression. “I’m not blind, Marco. Neither are your enemies.”

After he leaves, I sit alone with my thoughts, the drawer containing those photographs seeming to pulse with dangerous energy.

I should burn them. Instead, I find myself opening the drawer again, running my finger over Matteo’s face, remembering the salt taste of his skin, the sound of his laughter carrying across the sand.

I can’t give him up. Not even for this office. Not even for my vows.

God help me, I won’t.

* * *

Matteo

I’m halfway through reviewing the prosecution documents against Finance Minister Russo when my office door swings open without a knock. Carlos strides in with the casual entitlement that’s become his signature. I don’t bother looking up from my papers.

“You could try knocking next time,” I say, signing my name at the bottom of the page.

Carlos drops into the chair across from me. “Knocking is for people who don’t share state secrets.” He leans forward, elbows on my desk. “ Speaking of secrets…”

I finally meet his eyes. Carlos has that look—the one that reminds me why I keep him close despite our differences. The political animal sensing blood in the water.

“What is it, Carlos? I’m preparing for the prosecutor’s meeting this afternoon.”

He gestures at the stack of documents. “Yes, your crusade against corruption. Very noble.” His tone suggests it’s anything but. “I’m more interested in your schedule lately.”

“Be specific.” I keep my voice even, though my pulse quickens.

“Your disappearing acts. The cancelled meetings. The mysterious trips that don’t appear on any official schedule.” Carlos tilts his head. “Including your visits to the Vatican.”

The mention of Marco sends a jolt through me, but I maintain my composure. “I’m the Prime Minister of Italy. Meeting with the Pope is part of the job description.”

“Of course.” Carlos smiles thinly. “I just find the timing… interesting. Especially given our ongoing investigations.”

“We’re coordinating on financial matters. You know this.”

Carlos examines his fingernails. “What I know is that the corruption investigation is making powerful enemies. Enemies who are watching your every move.”

I stand, walking to the window. The view of Rome calms me, reminds me what I’m fighting for. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Just friendly concern.” He leans back in his chair. “When a Prime Minister starts behaving… unpredictably during a sensitive investigation, people notice. People talk.”

I turn to face him. “And what exactly are people saying?”

“Nothing specific. Yet.” His emphasis on the last word hangs between us. “But in our position, perception is reality. And the perception of impropriety can be as damaging as impropriety itself. ”

“I wasn’t aware that doing my job required your approval.”

“It doesn’t. But your security does concern me.” Carlos stands, straightening his suit jacket. “There are rumours about your movements last weekend. Away from your security detail.”

My blood runs cold, but I keep my expression neutral. “My personal time is my own.”

“Is it?” Carlos walks to the door, then pauses. “Just be careful, Matteo. In our world, vulnerability is fatal.”

After he leaves, I sit motionless, my mind racing. I reach for my secure phone—the one only Marco and I have access to—then stop myself. If Carlos knows something about last weekend, our communications might be compromised too.

I buzz my assistant. “Cancel my afternoon. I need to visit the Vatican on urgent business.”

* * *

The papal apartments feel different today—colder, more formal. Marco sits behind his desk rather than beside me on the sofa as he usually does. Sister Lucia stands nearby, sorting through documents.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Your Holiness,” I say, the formality strange on my tongue after the intimacy we’ve shared.

“Of course, Prime Minister.” Marco’s eyes tell a different story than his words. He knows something’s wrong. “Sister Lucia, would you give us privacy?”

She nods, gathering her papers. “I’ll be in the archive if you need anything, Holy Father.”

When the door closes, Marco immediately rises. “What’s happened?”

“We’re being watched.” I keep my voice low, despite the room being swept for bugs daily. “My deputy prime minister confronted me about our meetings, about the getaway at the beach villa. ”

Marco’s face pales. “Cardinal Sullivan intercepted photographs of us at the beach. I thought we’d contained it.”

“Apparently not entirely.” I pace the room. “Carlos implied there are people tracking my movements, looking for ways to discredit me—to stop the investigation.”

“The same is happening here,” Marco says. “The Cardinals are questioning my judgment, my fitness to lead.”

I stop pacing. “They’re trying to separate us.”

“Is that what you want?” Marco asks, his eyes searching mine.

“You know it isn’t.” I step closer despite myself. “But I won’t be the reason you lose everything.”

“And I won’t be the scandal that brings down your government.” Marco moves to his desk, writing something on a small card. “Captain Lombardi has identified secure locations within the Vatican where we can meet. Places without windows, with limited access.”

He hands me the card. “Memorize this and destroy it.”

I read the information—a series of codes and times—then tuck it into my pocket. “We continue, then.”

“We continue the investigation, the reforms.” Marco’s eyes meet mine. “And we continue us, however we can.”

The knock at the door startles us both. We step apart as Sister Lucia enters.

“Forgive the interruption, Holy Father, but Cardinal Antonelli insists on seeing you immediately.”

Marco nods. “Show him in.” To me, he adds, “Thank you for your visit, Prime Minister. I’ll consider your proposals carefully.”

I bow slightly. “Thank you for your time, Your Holiness.”

As I leave, passing Cardinal Antonelli in the doorway, I feel his suspicious gaze following me. The card in my pocket feels like it’s burning through the fabric.

* * *

Back at my office, I find Sophia waiting. She rises when I enter, her expression concerned.

“You look terrible,” she says by way of greeting.

“Always the supportive sister.” I collapse into my chair. “What brings you here?”

“I was worried.” She sits across from me. “After what happened at the villa, and then your cryptic message about security concerns…”

“I’m fine.” The lie comes automatically.

“No, you’re not.” Sophia leans forward. “You’re in love with the Pope, Matteo. That’s about as far from ‘fine’ as one can get.”

I laugh despite myself. “When you put it that way…”

“Have you considered the possibility that this can’t work? Not just because of who he is, but because of who you are?”

I rub my temples, feeling a headache forming. “Every hour of every day.”

“And?”

“And I can’t walk away.” I meet her eyes. “Not from him, and not from what we’re trying to accomplish.”

Sophia sighs. “Carlos came to see me yesterday.”

My head snaps up. “What? Why?”

“He asked questions about your schedule, your habits. Where you go when you’re not at official functions.” She frowns. “He was fishing, Matteo. And not subtly.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing useful.” She pauses. “But he mentioned the Vatican investigation. Said you were getting too personally involved, that it might compromise your judgment.”

I stand, moving to the window. The same view that calmed me earlier now feels exposing, as if every building houses watching eyes .

“Carlos knows something,” I say quietly. “Or suspects enough to be dangerous.”

“Is he involved? In the corruption?”

“I don’t know yet.” I turn back to her. “But he’s ambitious enough to use the information to his advantage.”

Sophia rises, coming to stand beside me. “What will you do?”

“What I’ve always done.” I meet her concerned gaze with determination. “Fight corruption wherever I find it—even if it’s closer than I thought. And as for Marco…” I pause, the weight of my decision settling firmly on my shoulders. “Some things are worth protecting at any cost.”