The First Public Sighting
727 Words
VALENTINA POV'S
8:02 a.m.
Upper East Side traffic was murder, but I didn’t care.
I needed the extra two minutes to breathe.
Luca was in his car seat behind me, waving at me through the tinted window of Jaxon’s black Range Rover.
Matteo followed three cars back in a rented gray Audi (no driver, no plates I recognized).
He’d obeyed the distance rule.
So far.
I pulled up outside Little Crowns Preschool (ironic name, considering what was coming).
The usual moms were already clustered on the steps: Botox, Birkins, and judgment.
They froze when they saw me step out in head-to-toe black: blazer sharp enough to cut glass, stilettos that could stake a vampire.
Then they saw the second car.
Then the third.
Phones came out faster than oxygen.
Jaxon got out first, circled to Luca’s door, lifted him out like he’d done every morning for the last two years.
My son was wearing the tiny navy peacoat I’d designed last winter, curls exploding under a knit beanie.
Matteo parked illegally, hazards on, and stepped onto the sidewalk.
The silence was delicious.
Every mom recognized him.
You don’t grow up in Manhattan without knowing the face that’s been on the cover of Forbes and Vanity Fair in the same month.
Luca spotted him and shrieked, “Boat man!”
He wriggled out of Jaxon’s arms and ran.
Straight to Matteo.
Matteo caught him mid-leap, hands finally, finally, closing around our son.
Luca’s legs locked around his waist like they’d done it a thousand times.
I let it happen for three seconds.
Then I walked over, heels clicking like gunshots.
“Put him down.”
Matteo obeyed instantly, but Luca clung.
“Nooo, Mama! Up!”
The phones were filming now.
I could already see the headlines.
I crouched, smoothed Luca’s curls.
“School first, baby. Boat man will be here when you get out.”
Luca pouted, but he trusted me.
He always trusted me.
He kissed Matteo’s cheek (sticky with blueberry muffin) and let Jaxon carry him inside.
The second the preschool door closed, the vultures descended.
“Valentina! Is that Prince Matteo?”
“Is the child his?”
“Are you back together?”
I smiled the smile I save for customs officers and exes.
“No comment.”
Matteo stepped forward, body angled to shield me.
The cameras loved it.
I grabbed his wrist (hard) and dragged him back toward the cars.
Once we were out of earshot, I let go like he burned.
“You wanted to keep this quiet for one more day,” I hissed.
“I tried. Isabella leaked the preschool address an hour ago.”
Of course she did.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Fine. New rule. From now on, every move you make goes through me first.”
He nodded.
I studied him.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Good.
“My mother lands at Teterboro in four hours,” he said quietly. “With lawyers. And a custody petition.”
I laughed. Actually laughed.
“Let her come.”
I turned to leave.
He caught my hand.
Not the wrist. The hand.
His thumb brushed over the place a ring would go.
“I know I don’t deserve to ask,” he said, voice rough. “But will you let me take you both to dinner tonight? Just the three of us. No titles. No cameras. I’ll cook.”
I looked down at our joined hands.
Five years ago he’d held my hand exactly like this on a cliff in Positano and promised me the world.
I pulled free.
“You get one dinner,” I said. “One chance to show Luca who you are when the crown isn’t watching.
Screw it up, and you’ll never see him again.”
He exhaled like I’d handed him oxygen.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
I walked to my car.
In the rearview mirror I saw him standing on the sidewalk, watching us drive away, looking every inch the man who’d lost everything and would burn the world down to get it back.
My phone buzzed.
Jaxon:
Video already at 3 million views.
Hashtag #PrinceLuca trending worldwide.
I smiled.
Good.
Let the world watch.
They were about to learn what happens when you come for a mother’s child.
- Writer
