Chapter Two hundred and Nineteen

Chapter Two hundred and Nineteen
Leonardo

We all clapped like we’d just watched the end of a war. Because in a way… we had.

The announcement ended. The screen faded to the palace seal. The tension in the room finally let go like a popped balloon, and Dante actually whooped.

“Yes, my prince!” he shouted, throwing a pillow in the air. “Burn it down and kiss him later!”

My father chuckled under his breath. “Well, that was… a show.”

My mother sipped her espresso like the seasoned politician she was, but even she looked mildly impressed. “They handled it with class.”

I just sat there, staring at the screen.

That last question.

That damn question.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, half laughing, half ready to strangle someone. “Mario.”

Dante grinned like he’d just witnessed history. “I told you he was a menace.”

“He’s lucky we need him,” I said, shaking my head. “Because I swear, if he’d phrased it any gayer, the Swedish Parliament would’ve spontaneously combusted.”

Dante snorted. “But what a way to go.”

My phone rang. I didn’t even check the name.

“Charming?” I answered, breath catching.

“We did it!” Alex’s voice came through, breathless, trembling, and absolutely glowing with joy. “Leo, we did it. It’s done!”

I stood up like I couldn’t physically stay still. “I saw it. You were brilliant. You both were.”

He laughed, shaky and overwhelmed. “Did you hear that question?! Mario nearly killed me!”

“Oh, he nearly killed you?” I said, pacing now. “I nearly launched my phone across the room! My mom almost choked on her coffee!”

“He didn’t tell me he was going to ask that,” Alex groaned. “I swear, I almost laughed on camera.”

“You should’ve! You would’ve broken Europe.”

We both laughed. That deep, giddy, we’re-too-tired-and-too-happy kind of laugh.

Then he got quiet.

“I wish you were here,” he said softly.

“I am,” I whispered. “Always.”

There was a beat of quiet between us, but not the sad kind. The kind that says everything words haven’t caught up to yet.

“So,” I asked, curling back into the couch. “What’s next?”

Alex exhaled. “Well… we wait a couple of days. Let this simmer. Let them talk. Then we go see my father.”

I blinked. “We?”

“You and I. Together.”

“Perfect,” I said. “I’ll tell him what my intentions are and formally petition to court his son.”

He groaned. “Leo…”

I grinned. “What? It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Baby, first, he's not my father, and second, I’ve been courted by you for months. That boat already sailed.”

“Not formally, it hasn’t!” I said. “No flower deliveries, no flaming baton twirling outside your balcony, no hand-written declarations of eternal lust—”

“Oh my God.”

I could hear his laugh through the phone, that soft, breathy one he never used around anyone but me.

Then the mood shifted, just slightly.

“That’s a big step,” he said. “Facing him. You know how unpredictable he is.”

“I know,” I said. “But you also know how stubborn and persuasive we are.”

A pause. A smile I could hear.

“And you know what?”

“What?”

“Before that new achievement… let’s celebrate this one. A day at a time. Today was epic.”

I closed my eyes and smiled. “It really was.”

We said goodbye, whispered kisses into the line like fools in love, and after I managed to blink like a normal human again, I gave in and dialed Mario.

He picked up immediately. “If this is a complaint about journalistic ethics, I regret nothing.”

I laughed. “You almost gave the palace a heart attack.”

“Oh, please,” he said. “You loved it.”

“I did,” I admitted. “But still—you’re lucky Alexander didn’t faint on stage.”

“Was that a thank-you?”

“Don’t make it weird,” I said. “But yes. Thank you, man. That question changed everything.”

There was a pause. For once, he wasn’t sarcastic.

“This day probably changed my career,” he said quietly. “I’ve already had five outlets contact me for comment. I think I might finally be... you know. A real journalist.”

“You were always a real journalist,” I said. “Just one with poor taste in jackets.”

He snorted.

“As promised,” I continued, “you get exclusivity for the next announcement.”

His gasp was theatrical. “The next one?”

“Oh yeah. The next will rock Europe.”

“I'm so ready!”

I grinned. “I’ll keep you posted so you can stalk me—with my permission, for once—and write whatever you see.”

“Leo,” he said dramatically, “I swear to follow you like a lapdog from this moment forward. You have created a monster.”

“Good,” I said. “Let him off the leash.”

Taking a deep breath, I put my phone down and headed to lunch.

Dante had, of course, stayed. He was already halfway through a second plate of lasagna like he’d moved in permanently.

I dropped into my chair, still buzzing from the call, and reached for my glass of wine.

“Well?” my dad asked, poking his salad. “How’s our royal heartbreaker?”

“Buzzing,” I said. “Terrified. Stupidly in love.”

My mother raised an eyebrow. “And the plan now is…?”

“We’re visiting the king in a few days. Together.”

There was silence.

Then my father muttered, “Oh, that’s gonna go great.”

Dante choked on his water. “Should I start drafting a eulogy?”

I grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”

And for once… I believed it.

Dinner was loud in the way Italian dinners always are—between Dante’s commentary, my father’s sarcastic sighing, and my mother trying to keep us from turning the entire table into a strategy meeting.

“Okay, but real question,” Dante said, stabbing a tomato like it had personally offended him, “how’s the campaign going?”

My mother lifted her glass and exhaled slowly. “Intense. The final stretch is always brutal. The opposition is trying to stir up conservative voters, spinning every scandal we’ve ever survived.”

“Scandals?” I asked, feigning innocence. “Us?”

She gave me a look. “Leonardo.”

I grinned. “Hey, if you need me to disappear until voting ends, I can go full vampire. Hide in the attic. Wear a veil.”

“Or,” she said dryly, “you could use your unfiltered chaos for good.”

“I could give speeches,” I offered. “Like the one I gave after Alex and I were caught.”

My father muttered, “Still haven’t recovered.”

But my mother leaned back, thoughtful. “You know… that speech reached more people than most of our official addresses combined.”

“Good or bad?”

She shrugged. “Both. But it made people feel something.”

As she spoke, her phone buzzed again.

And again.

And again.

She ignored it at first, but eventually, it buzzed so loudly the entire table fell silent. She checked the screen, blinked, and stood up.

“Excuse me.”

We all watched her step into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear, nodding slowly as she paced.

When she came back a minute later, her expression had changed.

Calm. Focused. Presidential.

She looked right at me.

“We’ve received over twelve hundred messages in the last two hours,” she said.

I straightened. “About what?”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“About you and Alexander.”

The air went still.

“What kind of messages?” I asked carefully.

“People want to know. If what Alexander said today… and what Mario asked… had anything to do with you.”

Dante whispered, “Oh shit.”

I sat back slowly, heart pounding.

My mother gave me a small, strange smile.

“It seems,” she said, “the country is ready to know the truth.”