King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

1. Matteo

Chapter 1

Matteo

S now twirled in thick flurries in front of the frozen window, obscuring my view of the night sky. The thick white eddies against the inky void created a wall between the stars and me. It made me anxious, like I needed to find a hidden celestial staircase and climb it, ready to go to battle for what was mine.

The woman whose name meant star—Stella.

The moment my eyes connected with hers in that underground club in Paris, I knew she was mine. The connection was sudden and unexplainable, and it stole the breath from my lungs. Which was why, when I couldn’t see the stars, I felt as if I was too far from her. If I could see the stars, I could see her, and maybe she could see me too. Like my old man, Brando Fausti, I was more comfortable cloaked in darkness, but when her light touched me, I knew she’d always burn for me, and that same light would lead me down this path we called life together.

No need to question it. I accepted it. My instincts were strong, and I trusted them. I’d never felt that way before. And I knew I never would again.

She was it—the moon, the stars, and the sun. She was my entire sky. My heaven.

What made this entire situation almost unreal was that we hadn’t spoken to each other yet. Words were useless, though. The connection existed in that space between our eyes—a space as mysterious as whatever existed beyond the veil. Being the man I am, I was instantly hit with the truth when her beauty sucker punched me in the heart.

She’s mine .

It wasn’t her physical beauty, either, though beyond her sparkling costume, I knew she was gorgeous. The beauty that came to mind was one that made her everything to me. What mamma would say existed beyond the flesh. Maybe that was why I had so much faith in a situation that might end badly.

We were meant to be, and it couldn’t end badly. I refused to allow it. My heart and hers were on the line, somehow already tangled and fused together as one. Whatever this was between us wasn’t going to end before it even had a chance to begin.

When you know, you know…

Yeah, I knew in an instant that I was going to marry her… Stella, the keeper of my stars.

Glancing to the right, I plucked a pear from the bowl on the table. Abate Fetel. That was the type of pear, and it was known in my family to be symbolic. It could be traced back to the beginning of…me. Because of that pear, my grandparents, Luca (Nonno) and Margherita (Magpie), had met and created my father. My father then met my mamma. And…there I stood. The carbon copy of Brando Piero Fausti with a touch of my mamma mixed in. An Abate Fetel seemed to be at the beginning of my journey to Stella too.

About a month ago, I’d been at my grandparents’ place in Florence. Though my Italian family didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, it was one of Magpie’s favorite holidays back in the states, and Nonno indulged her. We were all gathered at their massive table, the entire thing decorated with the pears, when a call came through that would change the course of my life.

A girl I went to school with from Natchitoches, Louisiana, where my parents grew up, called me from Paris, where she painted. Chloe had always wanted to be an artist, and she took her talent to the City of Light. On a night out with a dancer friend, she was assaulted. There was nothing romantic between us, but Chloe reminded me of my childhood, and I’m a man of honor, so I took one of our private planes to Paris to find out what had happened to her.

Once there, I followed a shredded ribbon back in time, to the underground club that had started a lifelong struggle for my parents. It was a fight-to-the-death kind of struggle, and I almost lost both of my parents because of a ratto named Olivier Nemours. His kind of evil couldn’t take down my parent’s legendary love, but evil like his lingers. And it had touched Chloe through the underground club.

It wasn’t an easy walk-in-and-walk-out situation like I’d planned. With two of my brothers, Mariano and Marciano, I’d paid a visit to the club, intending to hurt the man who had hurt Chloe. Instead, I’d found my future in a shimmering outfit on the stage, dancing like I’d never felt another woman dance. I was no stranger to gifted dancers—my great grandmother, my mamma, and my sister—but this woman danced in a way that had never touched me before.

The connection to her was, again, instant, and it knocked the breath from my lungs. The Faustis were known for stealing hearts while they still beat in the chests they belonged to. I never thought I’d feel that, a ripping and tearing from the center of my chest, but that night, I experienced a death of sorts. Stella had reached out in the crowd, parted my chest with a piercing look, and then stole what no man dares to lose.

His heart.

I hadn’t been the same since that night.

Nor would I ever be.

I would have taken her home with me to live happily ever after—and not the mushy kind of happily ever after. I was looking forward to the kind of happily ever after that leaves a couple changed, forever marked with scars from the wars of life. Forever wearing the vows of their love around their fingers while husband and wife were being lowered six feet into the ground.

That was the fucking truth about real happily-ever-afters. They run past bone. They hurt in places that are hidden so deep, it takes that kind of love to feel them. But I had to leave my heart behind with her when it became clear the situation was not as clear cut as it needed to be.

It involved the Russians, who had joined forces with the Nemours family. Together, they had taken over the business Olivier used to rule. It was a dark, seedy underground scene that used and abused the women they “owned.” One of those women belonged to me, and it was going to become a war to get her back. Once she was in my arms, she’d never leave them again.

Stella was a dancer in the underground club, Sub Rosa, and she might as well be a star with a net around her body. She moved when they said so, stopped when they said so, unable to set herself free from the restraints. Even if she became too tired and needed to fall, she’d only fall deeper into their trap.

The thought cut me deep, and I took a deep breath, setting the pear back in its golden bowl on the table and grabbing for a glass. I poured myself a straight shot of whiskey and downed it while the snow continued to fall in thick flurries, my eyes straining to see past them to the stars. I almost wished the alcohol on my breath would turn into fire and melt all this cold away. It would be hot enough to clear the sky of ice and turn it into slush, so the stars could come out and burn cold for me. Give me direction when I felt as lost as a new traveler without a map.

The stars and those pears led me to her that night.

I needed them to lead me to her again.

The night the stars aligned for us, she ran from me, and due to security issues, I was forced to leave her behind. And not just because I was ordered to by my uncle, Rocco Fausti, who would be leading the family soon. The only reason I left my heart behind in Paris was because I didn’t want to put Stella in any more danger than she was already in.

The Russians were too protective over her, and we needed an in, which was why we were watching every move they made. Even though my parents had battled a similar demon years ago, and it left them both bloodied and scarred before they killed it, this new darkness had grown a new head and had morphed into something different when the Russians became a part of it. We needed more intel on what was going on underground before we charged in and rescued the woman who stole my heart with just one look.

If it came down to the second, and it was either be killed or lose my star, then no matter what, I’d come for her.

I’d given her my word in that tomb that I would.

La mia parola è buona come il mio sangue.

My word is as good as my blood.

In my world, and beyond, those words meant something. To spill a droplet of my blood would be the equivalent of bleeding an ancient olive tree dry. My word, and the word of my family, was valuable—if we had the balls to give it, it became an unbreakable bond to whoever we were giving it to. Not something any of us took lightly.

I’d given her my word that night. I’d also given her my coat with my signet ring tucked into a pocket so I could track her. My brother-in-law, Saverio Macchiavello, would one day be my consiglieri , as most people called them, and my advisor. He’d be my right-hand man, my confidant, when I ruled this pride of lions I was born into. He was also uber smart, and he had a way with electronics. The Fausti Family was rooted in history, but it always found a way to evolve with the times. The meeting place between ancient roots steeped in tradition and new limbs stretching forward created something familiar yet different.

That place was where The Fausti family met Saverio Macchiavello. He’d put a tracker in my ring, and I knew it. Therefore, I knew once I slipped it into the pocket of my coat, as long as no one else took it from her, I’d know where she was—always.

Last time I checked, she was in a room in a castle in France. The place where they held my star in her net and refused to let her go. The only time she moved was either inside of the castle or when they took her to the underground club to dance. Stella didn’t grace the stage of the other places they owned. They kept her in the most prestigious club, in their eyes: Sub Rosa. She was a fatal fantasy come to life, one that patrons paid good money to watch dance. The Nemours and the Russians made her out as if she was a fallen star incarnate.

Years ago, Olivier Nemours had tried to do the same thing to my mamma. She was a vampire, or something that could control one, sent to drain men of their life. With only a look, she could kill. Countless people had fallen for it, and they were still falling for it.

With one look at Stella, I’d fallen for her too, but I didn’t want to use her or have something that no one else did—a fallen star. I wanted to fucking watch her burn in the sky for me when our eyes met. When I touched her. When my love for her made it past flesh and bone. Because we’d burn for each other. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d felt it too.

Whatever it was that existed between us, it came alive that night—sucking in a breath, opening its eyes, aching to be fed by the both of us.

My hand curled around the glass, and I could feel the tension in my veins turn hot. I needed a fucking outlet. I hadn’t felt this unsettled since my parents moved us from Italy to Louisiana and Nemours was able to get to my mamma.

Voices echoed in the towering castle we were staying at in Germany. Every year we went on vacation together around the holidays. My family was big, and I never felt alone because I was always surrounded by people. Until Stella, lonely was never a word in my vocabulary, but without her, I was suddenly feeling it. Feeling it in a place inside of my heart that I never knew existed.

“If there is a puddle with a downed live electrical source in it—he will undoubtedly find it and step in it.”

The answering laughter echoed, and so did the two men’s voices after they passed the room I was in. Donato and Guido, two top soldiers in our world. Both headed our security, Mac and Saverio right behind them, along with Rio’s mentor, Vincenzo. Vincenzo wasn’t one to want to keep to the castle, though. He was in Paris, in the mix with Lev and his men.

Lev was a Russian assassin who, even after all these years, we didn’t know much about. He lived in the shadows, and he only came out to play when there was a reason for him to. One thing was for certain, though. My youngest brother, Maestro, was engaged to a girl who belonged to Lev. She had royal Russian blood, and Maestro agreed to marry her when they were both of age in exchange for information Lev had on the people who had wanted to kill my sister.

Any of us would have volunteered to marry for the sake of our sister. My mind, though, started to go down a different path after I met Stella. I wanted my brother to experience the same rush I felt. I hoped the girl he would marry would be able to do the same for him.

It wasn’t five minutes later when my father and grandfather came to stand beside me, making me the middle of a sandwich. The three of us watched the snow fall together, and it was hard for me not to acknowledge how much the three of us looked alike through the reflection in the glass. The only difference was age.

My father set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. My grandfather gave me a slow nod. Both men were acknowledging my plight. Both men seemed to know I wasn’t the same man who had left for Paris on Thanksgiving. Something inside of me had fundamentally shifted after that encounter with Stella. I carried the weight of a responsibility I’d never known before. I knew I’d always carry it.

Saverio stopped at the edge of the room, holding some of his equipment. He waited for my grandfather to acknowledge him before he entered and set his things down on the table. My father squeezed my shoulder, and when my grandfather nodded toward the chairs, we all sat.

“Tell me, grandson,” my grandfather said to Saverio in Italian. Two words. Tell me. And our world fell at his feet. Beyond our world, too, if whoever he spoke those two words to valued his life.

Saverio was the most conscious person I knew, outside of my blood. Even my grandfather respected him, especially since he claimed Saverio as family. Luca didn’t bestow the title of “family” upon just anyone. The title had to be earned.

Saverio cleared his throat and met my grandfather’s eyes. “As you know, I tracked Matteo’s signet ring.”

My grandfather’s eyes dropped down just for a second to his hand. I had to hide my grin. I knew he was wondering if Saverio had tracked his too. Saverio was an especially wily motherfucker who even smelled like innovation. If he wasn’t wearing cologne, I knew his signature scent would be called “highest of techs.”

“We’re able to track Stella through it, since it was in the jacket he’d given her.” He looked at me. “Smart move.” Then he lifted another small contraption, looking back at Nonno. “I never bothered with sound; we hadn’t had a need for it. But I was able to tap into it.”

“You can hear her.” This from my father.

Saverio nodded. “If she’ll talk. We’ve only heard other people in the house.” He met my eyes, but I was having a hard time concentrating on him.

A lump had formed in my throat. My heart was trying to knock it out of the way.

I’d never heard her voice before.

Saverio moved his other piece of equipment closer and started to fiddle with what looked like a dial. A second later, a crackling noise, like an old record player, filled the room. I sucked in a silent breath, my heart still fighting the lump that had lodged in my throat. I couldn’t pry my eyes from what looked like an old-time radio.

Time didn’t exist in those moments, and the crackling was threatening to eat me alive. It was worse than silence. Because every so often I’d think it was her, but it only turned out to be fuzz on the line.

Mamma gasped at what the static had suddenly turned into. I hadn’t even realized she’d come to stand at the edge of the room. My father got up from the table and went to her.

It barely registered.

The voice.

Her voice.

She was copying the sound of the beginning beats of a song. Then she started to hum before she started to sing.

“Stand By Me.”

It was hard for me to process anything but the sweet voice coming at me through the machine. It was so fucking real.

Mine.

It was like I’d heard it my entire life, but somehow, I’d lost it for a while.

My veins felt tight in my body, my blood too thick, and it was making my heart beat overtime.

Mamma’s gasp made sense. This song meant something to me and my family. It was a song that had been special to my father and my mamma’s brother, who had died before I was born. It became a song we all shared. Mia called it “our family song.” Sometimes when our father took us out on his boat to fish, he’d play it.

Stella was singing it.

Maybe it was apparent to everyone in the room. Maybe it wasn’t. But I heard it. The fucking tremble behind every lyric, like she was on the verge of tears. Like the song was giving her the strength to do what she was doing. Given the time—late afternoon—she was preparing to be hauled to the underground club to dance.

I’d never felt warm satisfaction and cold rage go to war in such a small space before. My mind was set for battle, and my heart was being shredded inside of my chest. How such a sweet second could be one of the most bitter…it was fucking with me on a level I’d never experienced before.

My muscles seized when a heavy hand came to my shoulder and squeezed. I wondered if my skin was so hot that it burned his palm. My grandfather. I hadn’t even realized I’d stood out of my chair, my hands braced against the table, looming over Saverio’s machine. Nonno squeezed once more, and then to a group that had formed without me noticing said, “We get his heart in one week’s time. We have enough information. If we do not—” he shrugged, as if to say, it will have to be enough “—then we will still take her back to him as they are bringing her to the underground club.”

We will take her back.

He knew.

He knew she’d always been mine.

The rest of the room disappeared and gave me privacy.

I listened to her sing, mumble to herself, hum, and then sigh…before I heard static again. It almost sounded like my ring was rubbing against fabric. Lev told us she wore my jacket every night on the way to Sub Rosa.

I sat with the static until the sun came up the next morning, my hand over my chest, like I was bleeding out.