CHAPTER 93: RIDICULOUS, ELEGANT CHAOS

CHAPTER 93: RIDICULOUS, ELEGANT CHAOS
KRISTIAN

The gold mask itches against my cheek as I stare at myself in the mirror, unsure if I look like a prince or a misplaced actor.

The tailored black suit is double-breasted and cut close to my body. There’s a delicate gold trim on the collar, a subtle nod to old Swedish court uniforms.

My mask is sharp, angular, shaped like a hawk. Fitting, maybe. Predators are the only ones that survive in rooms like these.

Now that I’m calmly looking at my reflection in the mirror, I realize that I do look like a fantasy—the blond-haired, blue-eyed prince in one of the many fairy tales out there. The one who has the answer to everything and somehow manages to follow his heart and be the hero at the end of the day. 

But I’m nothing like that. 

Just like Luca said, this is the real world—way different from a fantasy. 

I have a million questions but no answers. I can’t follow my heart even though I know exactly what it’s telling me. I can’t be anyone’s hero when I don’t know how to save myself. 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before heading out. 

Luca is already outside, standing by the car with his arms crossed. He’s dressed in deep burgundy, the jacket sharp and sculpted. His curls are swept back, and his mask—a dramatic black and red half-face piece—dangles casually between his fingers.

He looks breathtaking, and my heart stops for a few seconds. I pause and take a moment to stare at him properly, not even caring that Giovanni and Henrik are watching us right now. 

I know he knows I’m looking at him, but he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t even say a word when I’m close enough. He meets my eyes for a millisecond and then nods slightly. 

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Henrik and Giovanni say almost at the same time. 

“Good evening,” I reply with a small nod. 

They acknowledge it before climbing into the front seats while two bodyguards slip into the SUV behind us. The door shuts, and the engine starts.

We ride in silence.

I watch Luca out of the corner of my eye. His profile is perfect—strong nose, sharp jaw, the kind of mouth that looks like it was carved in defiance. But tonight, he’s pale under the streetlights.

“Hey,” I say softly, and he turns to look at me. 

“Yeah?” he replies in a low voice.

“You good?” I ask, lowering my voice further.

“I am. You?”

“I’m good too.” Then boldly add: “You look really good, Luca.”

“You too, Kristian.”

We hold eye contact for longer than I expect. I hesitate, wanting to reach for his hand. But when I finally have the courage to, he looks away from me. 

He doesn’t look back until we reach our destination. 

The exhibition is held in an old villa near the outskirts of Rome—something baroque and decadent.

Stone lions flank the entrance. Paper lanterns float over the courtyard. People pour in through the gates, masked and laughing, glasses of prosecco already in hand.

The air smells like jasmine and wine. A string quartet plays something fast and flirtatious while a woman in a swan mask twirls beside a man in silver armor.

The guests are wrapped in velvet, lace, and brocade. Some wear nothing but body paint and pearls.

It’s chaos. Ridiculous, elegant chaos.

“This is…” I start, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Not Sweden?” Luca finishes beside me.

“No,” I exhale. “Definitely not Sweden.”

He huffs something close to a laugh, but it fades quickly.

We move together through the crowd, pausing now and then when someone greets Luca. Most people don’t even recognize me behind the mask.

It’s oddly freeing.

A man in a green silk robe drifts past with a tray of figs. Another woman leans close to whisper something in French to Luca. He smiles politely, nods, but his eyes keep scanning the room like he’s trying to find the exit.

I touch his elbow and ask again, “You good?”

Before he can answer, someone steps in front of us.

“Enjoying the evening, boys?”

Luca’s body stiffens, and I’m surprised by his reaction because I recognize the voice as his father’s. 

And since I’ve seen the two interact, it has been nothing but pure love and camaraderie between them. 

What changed? Did something happen?

We both turn to see Lucas’ dad in a navy suit, golden mask, and a wine in hand.

“Good evening, Signor Moretti,” I say politely.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” he says with a small bow. 

Luca mumbles something in Italian, and his father smiles. “Thank you for honoring my invitation.” His voice lowers as he angles towards Luca. “I didn’t think you still would.”

Yeah, something definitely happened between them.

Alessandro Moretti turns his focus to me. “This is all a bit…unruly for royalty, isn’t it?”

“I find it fascinating,” I say, keeping my voice light. “People are much more honest behind masks.”

“Hmm,” he hums, looking toward Luca. “And how honest are you being tonight, figlio mio?”

Luca’s hand clenches. “Excuse me.”

He walks off.

I watch him disappear through the crowd, curls bouncing, shoulders tense.

His father takes a slow sip of wine, but despite his attempt to maintain his composure, the sadness in his eyes is unmistakable.

“I have to go and attend to other guests now, Your Highness. Enjoy the party, and…” He looks longingly in the direction his son went. “Please take care of him.”

I nod. “I will.”

With a grateful smile, he leaves me, and I head in the directio Luca went. 

I find him leaning against a marble column near the back garden, jaw tight, arms folded.

“I can’t do this,” he says without turning. 

“Can’t do what?”

“This.” He gestures in the air. “This place is…" He exhales. "I need to go back home.” 

“I don’t want to go back yet,” I reply.

He looks at me now.

His eyes are tired, heavy with an ache I don’t understand.

I gesture with my chin. “There’s a door back there. Through the kitchen corridor. I saw the blueprints with Henrik, and I’m sure that my good memory can find us a way out.”

He hesitates and shakes his head. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“So you’d rather go home? To your mother?” I see his jaws twitch, so I push. “Or stay here with your father.”

He sighs. “Neither.”

Then I stretch my hand. “So come with me then.”

He looks at my stretched hand and then up at me. To my greatest relief, he takes my hand.