Chapter 6: Chapter Six
**Leonardo**
I stared at my reflection on the laptop screen for a moment before the video call connected. It felt a bit ridiculous—checking my hair, tilting my chin, trying to look confident.But hey, confidence was my trademark. And if I was about to face my unpredictable mother—the President—I wanted to look at least somewhat ready for battle. This time, I was totally sure she’d be pleased—well, let’s say, *moderately* confident. After all, I’d just challenged a prince with valid, concerning points that made me seem more interest in environmental matters than I could ever give a damn.
The call flickered, and there she was: Delfina Vittorio, President of the Council of Ministers. My mother might’ve been small in stature, but she had a presence that could fill a stadium—or glare a hole right through me. She didn’t even say hello.
“Leonardo Francesco.” Her voice was clipped, formal, and he’d used my full name… *Uh, oh…, never a good sign.*
“Madre.” I leaned back in my seat, forcing a casual grin.
“I saw the footage.” She eyed me from behind her desk, posture rigid, hair pinned in a tight bun. “The entire country has seen the footage. You made a spectacle of yourself—and worse, you humiliated Sweden’s Crown Prince on global television.” Her lips pressed into a hard line. “You’ve jeopardized our diplomatic relationship.”
I drummed my fingertips on the edge of the table. “Oh, come on. A little spirited debate never hurt anyone. It’s not like I said anything false.” In truth, I was more than a little proud of the way I’d outmaneuvered Alexander—he looked so stoic, so composed, that I just had to see if I could make him crack. Mission accomplished, and it was glorious. At least, that’s how I saw it.
My mother’s eyes narrowed. “It isn’t about what’s true or false, Leonardo. It’s about how you did it. Diplomacy relies on tact, respect, and measured words. You showed none of those.”
I sighed. “The prince could’ve handled it privately if he wanted to. He didn’t have to—”
She raised a hand, cutting me off. “You’re acting like a rebellious teenager—one who’s gotten a global spotlight for his tantrum. Do you think this is a game?”
I shrugged. “Kind of? Everything’s a game if you look at it the right way.”
Her glare intensified. “Well, it’s not. We’ve got strategic partnerships with Sweden—economic, environmental, political. The monarchy there might be largely symbolic, but the Crown Prince still holds influence. Your little stunt has made headlines. Do you realize how that makes us look?”
“Like we care about the environment more than their token policies?”
She inhaled slowly, eyes shut for a moment. “You sound exactly like the tabloids say you do—impulsive, flippant, and arrogant.” She fixed her gaze on me again. “We need to do damage control. I’ve spoken with some of my advisors, and the Swedish diplomats are… concerned. They expect a formal apology, or at least some sort of retraction of your remarks.”
My stomach twisted.
*I’m kinda guessing my private ‘apology’ to Alex, might’ve not been enough….*
It wasn’t that I hadn’t guessed something like this might happen—I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast, or that my mother would be this furious. “You want me to say sorry on camera?” I asked, trying to keep the mocking tone out of my voice.
“I want you to cooperate with the steps my team outlines. If that includes an apology, then yes, you’ll apologize.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “This isn’t about the environment alone, Leonardo. World affairs, alliances—these are real. They’re bigger than you. And you can’t just throw around accusations like confetti.”
That made me bristle. “I’m not some clueless kid,” I muttered. “I know it’s serious. I just…” I swallowed hard, remembering the look on Alexander’s face when I called him out in front of all those cameras. For a split second, I’d seen hurt there, something raw under all that royal composure. And as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me actually felt bad about it.
I exhaled, leaning forward. “Fine. I’ll do whatever it takes to… fix this. Damage control, retractions, clarifications—whatever your PR team needs. I’ll cooperate.”
She nodded, relief in her eyes. “Good. We’ll be in touch with a structured plan soon. Until then, don’t do anything reckless. And please, don’t vanish to Ibiza or wherever you usually go when you’re restless.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “Relax, Mother. I’m not planning any escapades… yet.”
Her eyes hardened again. “Leonardo,” she warned, but her tone softened a fraction. “Remember what I said: this isn’t a game. Try not to forget that.”
With a quick goodbye, the call ended, and the screen went black. I shut my laptop, leaning back in my chair. The silence of my hotel suite pressed in on me. Part of me was still riding the high of that confrontation with the prince—correction, the entire me was still under the influence of prince Charming’s kiss. Oh, yeah. He had kissed me back. Or, at least he had not punched me on the face. Same thing, right?
I snorted, standing up and strolling to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night sky stretched beyond the glow of city lights. My reflection stared back at me: messy hair, half-unbuttoned shirt, and an expression caught between triumph and… guilt?
“Ugh,” I muttered. “Don’t do this to yourself, Leo. You were making a point, that’s all.” I dragged a hand through my hair, remembering the way Alexander’s jaw tightened, his cheeks flushing. The best part? Despite how furious he looked, I could’ve sworn his eyes were… curious. Almost hungry.
And now I couldn’t stop thinking about him. *Damn it.* My chest fluttered with a strange excitement. It was like when you poke at a bruise to feel that weird mix of pain and pleasure. I replayed the memory—Alexander’s deep, measured voice, the tension in his posture, the subtle heat in his gaze. And the kiss; we were back to the kissing part.
A coil of heat twisted low in my belly as my mind drifted to the feel of his hard pecs flexing beneath my hand, the tremble of his lips when my mouth finally reached his, my impending erection pressing on his crotch…. *Did he notice how hard I was? He must’ve, because I sure as hell could tell his cock pulsing slightly against mine.*
My hand drifted mindlessly to my bulging crotch and, fucking hell, how I wished it was one of his probably manicured royal hands. I could imagine him opening my fly slowly, deliberate, with that infuriating precision he seems to bring to everything. His gray eyes would stay locked on mine, cool and calculating, as if this were some test of control he was determined to pass–and lose, of course, I was the dominating one, in fantasies and in real life, no doubt–.
In my mind, I could feel the cool brush of his fingers wrapping around me, his grip firm but teasing, stroking just enough to send a spark racing through my body. The imagined weight of his hand was perfect, his movements both confident and restrained, as if daring me to beg for more. The thought alone made my breath hitch.
I let my own hand mimic the rhythm I pictured, slow and steady at first, building to something that made my head tilt back against the cushions. *He’d enjoy this*, I thought. *Watching me squirm under his touch. Watching me direct him, as he tried to hold on to some shred of dignity while he worked me over...* *His lips would tremble, with all that useless self-restraint*—the one that always managed to piss me off and turn me on in equal measure,—*and he would lean over and oh, so damn close...*
My hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the phantom sensation of him. God, I could almost taste those lips, kissing me, taunting me for how easily I unraveled for him. I was spiraling, completely lost in the fantasy of his royal composure breaking, of him losing control just as much as I did.
The tension coiled tighter, my breaths coming faster. But just as the heat climbed to its peak, I decided my cock would need to settle with a replacement until I could have him for real and not just in my imagination. I was Leonardo Francesco Vitorrio and I could find a willing hand–other than my own– anytime I wanted to. In the sea of potential candidates, his face mocked me, taking over all others.
“Stop,” I hissed under my breath, feeling my cheeks burn. I needed a distraction.