Page 67 of Sacred Hearts

But as we watch, one of the guards nods and steps aside. Sophia drives through the gate toward the villa.

“Apparently they will,” Matteo counters. “She must have convinced them she has official business with me. She’s been here before, and they probably assume she knows I’m here with… official security reasons.”

Before Matteo can decide what to do, the front door opens—apparently Sophia has her own key—and her voice rings through the villa.

“Matteo? Your security detail said you were here, and I need to discuss the Russo situation before the press conference—”

She rounds the corner into the kitchen and stops dead, her professional briefcase dangling forgotten from one hand. Her eyes widen comically as she takes in the scene—her brother in nothing but low-slung pants, me in a borrowed robe, the intimate breakfast table, and what must be unmistakable evidence of our night together written all over our faces.

For three excruciating seconds, nobody moves. Then Sophia’s briefcase hits the floor with a thud.

“Oh my God,” she says, her voice rising an octave. “Oh. My. GOD.”

Rapid footsteps sound in the hallway behind her, and Captain Lorenzo Lombardi bursts into the kitchen, hand on his holstered weapon. Two more Swiss Guards appear at the doorway behind him, alert and ready.

“Your Holiness! Is everything—” Lorenzo freezes as he takes in thescene, his professional demeanour momentarily cracking into shock before he composes himself. His eyes dart from me to Matteo to Sophia and back again, putting together the pieces with remarkable speed.

“Captain,” I say, somehow finding my papal voice despite being dressed only in a bathrobe. “Everything is fine. Ms. Valentini is the Prime Minister’s sister.”

“Yes, Your Holiness,” Lorenzo says, his face carefully neutral now. “My apologies. She presented government credentials, and we were aware she had previous access to the property. We should have verified with you first.”

“It’s alright, Lorenzo,” I assure him. “A simple misunderstanding.”

Sophia has been staring, mouth agape, during this exchange. As Lorenzo mentions her credentials, she seems to snap back to reality.

“You’re the Pope,” she interrupts, her voice a strangled whisper. “You’re the actual Pope. In my brother’s kitchen. In a bathrobe.” She whirls on Matteo. “You’re sleeping with the Pope?!”

“Sophia, please—” Matteo starts.

“The POPE, Matteo!” She throws her hands up. “When I told you to find someone, I was thinking maybe a nice lawyer or that economist from the finance ministry. Not the SPIRITUAL LEADER OF A BILLION CATHOLICS!”

Lorenzo clears his throat uncomfortably. “Your Holiness, shall we… remove Ms. Valentini?”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain,” I say, somehow finding a smile despite my mortification. “Ms. Valentini is simply… surprised by my presence here.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sophia mutters.

“Perhaps you and your men could give us a few minutes?” I suggest to Lorenzo.

He hesitates, clearly torn between protocol and my request. “We’ll bejust outside, Your Holiness,” he finally says with a slight bow. “Within immediate reach if needed.”

As the Swiss Guards withdraw, I can see Lorenzo giving his men instructions, no doubt positioning them strategically around the villa’s perimeter.

Despite my mortification, I find myself fighting inappropriate laughter. Sophia’s reaction is so genuine, so sisterly in its outrage, that it cuts through the tension of the situation.

“I think I should introduce myself properly,” I say, stepping forward with as much dignity as a borrowed robe allows. “I’m Marco. Just Marco right now, if that’s alright.”

Sophia stares at me, then at her brother, then back to me. Slowly, her expression shifts from shock to something more calculating.

“Just Marco,” she repeats, studying me with new interest. “Who happens to be Pope Pius XIV.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re… with my brother.”

“Yes,” I say simply, moving to stand beside Matteo, who takes my hand in silent support.

Sophia closes her eyes briefly, as if processing this information requires her full concentration. When she opens them, she looks directly at Matteo.

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