The door closes behind them with a heavy thud, the sound of multiple locks engaging echoing in the sudden silence. Matteo and I are alone, the reality of our situation settling around us like dust after an explosion.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Matteo’s composed façade crumbles. He sinks onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands.
“Christ,” he mutters. “They nearly got me this morning. If Giuseppe hadn’t changed the route at the last minute…”
I cross to him immediately, professional distance forgotten. Sitting beside him, I place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles.
“Are you truly alright?” I ask softly.
He looks up, his eyes haunted. “I heard the shots. Three of them, hitting the car behind us. A family was in that car, Marco. A family with children.”
“Were they—”
“Minor injuries from broken glass.” He shakes his head. “But it could have been… they were aiming for me and hit…”
I pull him into an embrace, holding him as tremors run through his body—reaction setting in now that the immediate danger has passed. His arms wrap around me, clinging with surprising strength.
“They’re trying to kill us again,” he whispers against my shoulder. “How many times can we survive this?”
“I know.” I run a hand along his back, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow. “But they failed. We’re both here. We’re safe.”
He pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on my arms. “Safe for now. But they won’t stop coming for us. Not when we’re this close to exposing everything.”
“Then we don’t stop either,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “We use these twelve hours to plan our next move.”
Matteo studies my face, something shifting in his expression. “You’re different today. More certain.”
I nod, thinking of Father Domenico’s words from last night. “I spoke with my confessor about us. About my feelings for you.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise. “And?”
“He helped me see that what I feel might not be the sin I was taught to believe it is.” I take a deep breath. “That God’s love is broader than human doctrine.”
Matteo’s expression softens. “And you believe that?”
“I’m beginning to.” I reach for his hand, twining our fingers together. “Life is fragile, Matteo. We’ve both been shown that clearly today. I don’t want to waste whatever time we have left hiding from the truth.”
“What truth?” he asks softly.
“That I’m falling in love with you,” I whisper, the words both terrifying and liberating. “And that no doctrine, no tradition, no papal office is worth denying that reality.”
His eyes widen with wonder. Before he can respond, I continue, “I know this is complicated, impossible even. But after nearly losing you today, I needed you to know.”
He leans forward, his lips meeting mine with gentle certainty. When we part, he whispers against my mouth, “I’ve been falling since that first day in the library.”
The kiss deepens, his arms encircling me, drawing me closer. When we finally separate, I’m breathless, my body humming with unfamiliarsensations.
He removes his suit jacket, loosening his tie as I busy myself finding water for us both. The simple domesticity of the moment strikes me—how natural it feels to be here with him, despite the extraordinary circumstances.
When I return with the glasses, his collar is unbuttoned, revealing the hollow of his throat. My hands tremble slightly as I pass him the water, our fingers brushing.
“Terrified?” he asks, noticing my reaction.
“Not in the way you think.” I move closer. “Terrified of how much I want this. How right it feels, despite everything I’ve been taught.”
He sets down the glasses and takes my hands in his. “Marco, we don’t have to do anything.”
“I know.” I meet his gaze directly. “But I’ve spent my entire life denying myself. And today I nearly lost you—you could have died without knowing what you mean to me, without my ever experiencing what it means to truly connect with someone.”
