King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

34. Matteo

Chapter 34

Matteo

M y wife kept saying things like, “Rocco named him wrong! Marzio? Pffff! We shouldn’t call him Marzio after such a man. The stories I’ve been told make him seem like such a warm guy. And Rosaria? She deserved everything I did to her! Bitch. No. She’s the whore! I beat up a kid in school who called my mom that, and that was just when I was a kid. I’ll stab a bitch for that now!”

All these comments were warranted, and so was her anger, but there was something I didn’t like about the undertone of her voice. It was almost panicked and a little unhinged, like at any second, she might break and release a sob she’d been holding in, along with a screech.

I’d considered this when she first came home—that at some point, she’d have to deal with the emotional and mental trauma she got from those fuckers. She’d told me that she had to be naked in front of that soon-to-be dead woman, Régine, to get her weight checked, but none of the men were allowed to touch her. Fuck with her? Yeah, but not touch her.

I had a feeling that was because that dead woman had plans for my wife. Plans that involved “renting” her out to the highest bidder for a night. It wouldn’t have been one of the men who frequented the underground club to get a paranormal fix, but a man who didn’t necessarily buy into the hype of what the Nemours were always trying to sell. The “otherworldly.” The dead woman wanted the buyer to remember she was made of flesh and bone, and that she would bleed for him.

She fucking bled for me and made a blood vow to me. She wasn’t a thing to be sold or used, but my wife. My entire heart.

And any man who belonged to them, who had caused her harm in any way, was already dead. The ones who locked her in with the rats? They would be eaten alive by them.

“Matteo?”

Her sweet voice seemed to come at me from faraway, knocking on my skull, and I was back in the moment. The anger I temporarily had to contain took me away sometimes. I’d get trapped in it. Thinking about what they’d done to her and making plans to slaughter them all. I’d wear their blood on my hands to prove to her that none of them were a threat any longer.

And Marzio? Who I fucking loathed to call Marzio, because he could never be the man my great-grandfather was? He had started a war between us the moment he stepped onto our land and threatened my wife. He was a traitor. And Rosaria had set the entire situation up. She was mad that Stella had gotten the best of her. But there were rules in this family.

Oscar had already told the truth about what he saw, Stella holding a piece of something—which was a piece of stone from mamma’s broken coffee cup—to Rosaria’s throat. Rosaria was claiming that Stella didn’t like her coming around, because Stella was delusional about her coming on to me. It was true, though. Mamma had tripped Rosaria after she’d witnessed the scene, causing a slice across her knee. But mamma knew it was Rosaria’s word against hers if anyone made a deal about it—anyone being Rosaria.

This time, Stella seemed to be in the wrong, even though no one doubted Rosaria had called or implied that Stella’s mamma was a whore. But Stella had drawn blood first over words. Rosaria said Stella was just being sensitive and struck her. But after Marzio’s visit to our property, it leveled the field.

Marzio was summoned to Nonno’a walled city in Lucca, but he hadn’t showed his face yet. Nonno had also decreed that his first name be changed to Tiziano. Which was a high insult. It meant that Nonno had acknowledged he wasn’t fit to carry on the great name of his father, Marzio Piero Fausti. Tiziano was a name that was equivalent of Judas in our family.

If Mariano wouldn’t have been a step behind, he would have killed Tiziano.

One day, I would kill Tiziano.

There was always something different about Tiziano. Something that everyone seemed to acknowledge silently, but never aired. He didn’t look like the rest of us. Yeah, genetics could be tricky, but he just never fit. And we all had a feeling he knew it. Padrino never said anything, but we all got the feeling that he knew it too, and if he knew it, so did Nonno.

Papà never cared much to get in anyone’s business. That was mamma, and most of the time, she was just trying to help. But I could see the way papà looked at Tiziano sometimes when he was looking elsewhere. It was like papà suspected something but wouldn’t say it unless someone had mamma hostage and he was forced to.

“Matteo?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Where are you right now?”

I sighed. “Inside of my head.”

“Is it a dark place right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Come shower with me?” She opened the door, inviting me in.

As I removed my stained shirt, throwing it in the hamper, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was a fucking mess, and my face was splattered with snake remains. Mamma blew that fucker to smithereens. She was a fucking good shot. She said she got it from her Grandmother Poésy, my grandfather’s mother. Papà had to steady her, though. She couldn’t absorb the kickback, and he had to keep her from blowing back.

I paused for a second.

Everything about that scene—my mother and father—was exactly the perfect way to describe their relationship. Each person was strong, in their own ways, but together, they were like the blast from a shotgun.

Shaking my head, I finished undressing and met my wife in our small shower. After we left for our honeymoon, we had plans to redo the entire space. Make it more like a spa for Stella. She seemed to like that kind of stuff.

Her eyes rose to meet mine at the same time she ran her hands up my chest. She took a soft cloth and washed me clean, then rose on her toes to place her lips against mine. She set her head against my chest, and we let the warm water run down our bodies for a while, neither of us saying anything, until she whispered, “Was I wrong to do what I did to her?”

I stiffened and took her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “No,” I whispered. “No one is allowed to disrespect anyone you love. You had every right. I would kill someone for that type of disrespect.”

“To be honest.” She looked away from me. “I surprised myself. Even though I felt like acting like that over the years, I only acted on it a few times. And nothing as severe as when those people took my things, what I had left of my mom, but they stopped me. That was the night you found me.”

I held her tighter to me, my arms trembling from the rage that was rising to the surface. “No one will ever fucking hold you down again. Treat you in such a way.”

She looked up at me. “Your eyes…” She took a couple of deep breaths. I felt the coolness wash across my chest. “When you get mad, they get so dark. Much darker than they are normally.”

She went to run her hands through my hair, but I took her wrists in my hands, forcing her against the wall. Her breath rushed out and she kept blinking, tiny droplets of water rushing down her face. Her eyes were such a silvery blue—so vibrant—and when they turned grey, it seemed to be at night, when she shone brighter than any star in the sky.

“Tell me, what do you see now when you look into my eyes?”

“Light,” she whispered.

“Whose light?”

“Mine. All mine.”

We stared at each other for seconds—minutes—what could have been years, letting the connection between us swirl like the steam, and then lowering my face, I kissed her. She tasted so sweet, and when she moaned into my mouth, it went straight to my already hardened cock like a strike of lightning in my bloodstream.

Without a word, I turned the shower off, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I carried her over to the sink, where she could watch us. She squirmed and wriggled as I licked up every droplet of water on her body. I set my hands on her hips and told her in Italian, “Still yourself.”

She understood. “I can’t,” she barely got out. “It’s been too long, and I need you inside of me.”

It had only been hours, but it felt like centuries to me too.

“Like this?” I barely grazed her thigh with the tip of my cock.

“More,” she pleaded against my lips, our tongues swirling.

I moved my cock closer, rubbing it against her folds. “Tell me, la mia stella , close enough?”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me even closer. “Fuck me, Matteo!”

I set her back some, and ordered her to look at me, to watch.

“Watch how fucking beautiful you are.” I ran my cock through the wetness on her thighs. “How wet. How wild you get when I’m inside of you.”

“Ye ssss .” Her eyes were lowered, but when I set my cock at her tip, she closed them. Taking in the moment. Taking in how fucking good this felt.

We both groaned when I slipped inside, just the tip at first, until I was reaching depths that was too far for anyone but me to reach. Her words were garbled, but her nails against my back was a beautiful fire speaking to me—she needed more.

“Open your eyes, Stella.”

She slowly opened them, and those eyes—fuck me. They were moving me, calling me to her more than I needed the fucking release.

“That’s it,” I breathed. “Watch. Watch how fucking gorgeous you are. How we make magic together.” I pushed into her with a slow thrust, and she watched as my dick slid in and out of her.

The noise she made sounded like a whimper—it came from deep inside of her chest. Whimpers turned into panting, and when she shattered on my cock, I kept pushing, working the both of us, moving faster, harder, her eyes still on my cock, my eyes still on her. My hands were hard on her hips, but she kept begging for harder.

“Bruise me. Please. I want to see and feel your mark on me.”

Her words sent me into another fucking world, and I started fucking her harder, my balls slapping against her lips and ass.

“Yeahdadasjdfg!” she screamed at the same time all the pressure in my balls exploded out of the tip of my swollen cock.

I kept her close to me, my cock still buried inside of her, and carried her to our bed, which was built for a fucking queen.

My queen.

Hours passed, and we’d only stopped so I could grab her a drink of water. As I was pouring it out of the glass container in the fridge, pieces of cucumber and lemon swirling at the bottom, my phone rang.

A call at this hour was never fucking good news.

I answered it on the first ring. “Matteo.”

Placido. We had visitors. “You might want to bring your wife,” he added.

That took me off guard.

“Women,” he said, “mentioning her name.” He gave me more information before we hung up. I was debating on what to do when Stella came into the kitchen, looking for me.

She wrapped her arms around my stomach, and I pulled her close, kissing her forehead. She must have sensed something was off with me. She looked up and asked, “What?”

“We have visitors.” I rubbed her back. “Women. Both mentioned your name.”

She tried to read the look in my eyes, and when she must have gotten a clue, she grabbed the band to my sweats and fisted them in her hands.

“Régine,” she barely got out.

I shook my head. “Women that are claiming to be her daughters.”

“Why…why would they come here? Or did you find them?”

“They came to us.”

“I don’t understand…”

“We’re getting close to all of them. Too close. Smoking them the fuck out. When I said there was nowhere for them to hide, I meant it. If a tick on a rat hurt you, it might take me years, but it should just consider itself fucking dead.”

She touched my face, so softly, my skin prickled. “You really are my hero, Matteo. But.” She looked away from me for a second. “I don’t know what to do about her daughters…”

“They were cruel to you.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “So cruel. But I’m not sure I want their blood on your hands. They’re not good enough.”

“I’m your man. I’ll take care of that.”

She laughed, but it was quiet, and there was no joy to be found in it. “If you were left to worry about it, you wouldn’t. You and your male family members have a certain way of thinking—you abide by the rules of this family. Spending time with your mom…I like that she worries about your dad’s soul. Like she has to take care of it, just like she takes care of his physical needs.”

“They were cruel to you,” I repeated, and I never fucking repeated myself for anyone.

“Yeah, but maybe…let karma take care of them?” She sighed. “Can I come? Can I see them, I mean?”

I searched her eyes, looking for a reason to deny her request. But…fuck me. I couldn’t say no to this woman. I was fucked beyond normal comprehension.

“You stay close to me.”

Her smile came slow. “Do you think I’d leave your side?”

I kissed her between the eyes, closing my eyes, breathing her in. “Could you?” I whispered.

She set her hands on my chest, pushing a little. I refused to budge. She took a step back.

“Look at me, Matteo Leone Fausti.”

And, just like fucking that, I did.

“My place has always been, will always be, beside you.”

“Vow it.”

She lifted a hand. “I swear it,” she whispered.

I took her hand, kissing her pulse, and then we went to our bedroom and changed our clothes. I dressed in a suit, as usual, and she slipped on a dress that I knew was made of the finest material and was expensive. I knew because I’d picked it out for her myself. I didn’t comment on it, but I knew she’d worn it on purpose. To show her enemies she wasn’t under their control any longer. As we got closer to the stone building on the property where the men had brought the two women, she squeezed our already joined hands and then entwined our fingers. Her hands were trembling some.

Even with a swarm of soldiers around her.

My men walked in front of us, besides us, and behind us.

Oscar and another solider, Mario, were guarding the front door. There was no other door.

Oscar nodded at me, then at Stella.

She gave him a small smile, and I looked between them, but there were no lingering stares or pleasantries. Especially when she noticed his black eye.

She gasped, then looked at me, a frown on her face. It was the first time she’d ever looked at me that way. Then it turned into anger. Her face tightened, and so did her lips. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I could’ve sworn they promised… we’ll talk about this later.

Oscar was a good man, but he got what he deserved. He should have waited for permission to walk my wife home. And if it was something she demanded, he should have had more men with him. He also didn’t take fucking orders from Tiziano. Tiziano had told him to go inside and get him a glass of water. He should have stayed with Stella no matter what. He was lucky he kept his eye. He wouldn’t forget the lesson anytime soon.

The set of Stella’s face was for the best. When she noticed the two women sitting in chairs, side by side, her hand in mine stiffened. I picked up on her intake of breath, as quiet as it was, and the uptick of her heart and pulse.

Maybe she wasn’t scared of these women, but she was remembering. Remembering how deeply they had scarred her.

Before we could get to them, Lev, the Russian assassin who had always been enamored with my mamma, stepped out of the shadows like he was made to be a part of them.

He nodded at me and said in Russian, “Congratulations.”

I nodded and said in English, “My wife, Stella Fausti. Stella, Lev. He’s an old acquaintance of my mother and father’s.” I refused to say just my mamma’s. It didn’t seem respectful to my father, since this man held love for my mamma, or fondness, as she called it. As a child she had danced for his grandfather in Russia, and he’d admired her since then.

Lev was a dangerous man. He was the head of the Seven Deadly Sins, a top-secret assassin group from Russia. Their name was only rumored. They truly had no name in the world. When my sister had been in trouble, Lev came to us with the deal between Maestro and the girl Lev had in Russia.

Since then, and since some of our enemies were from Russia, Lev had been turning up more often than ever before. He said since Maestro had agreed to the marriage, and Padrino had already set up the arrangement, we’d also gained allies in him and his men.

Lev nodded at Stella.

She stared at his face. “One of your men…” She seemed to hesitate, but then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “The night Matteo came to the underground club. One of your men walked outside of the window to the restaurant next door. I was on the opposite side of that window. He looked at me. He had a wolf, like Boris, except his was darker. Much darker.”

Lev called the man Wolf in Russian. Then he repeated it in broken English. “That is my wolf,” he said, “with his wolf.”

Stella’s eyebrows drew in. “Do the two men know each other? Wolf and Boris?”

Lev nodded. “They are enemies.”

“Oh.” She stared at him a little harder. “You were following us. I mean, when the men would take me to the club. I remember your face.”

“I did this on purpose,” he said, and then turned, gesturing to the two women. “You have presents waiting.” He bowed to her and then walked closer to the two women.

A group of my men surrounded them, and so did a brunette with features sharp enough to cut through ice. Her eyes were a blue that seemed chiseled from the coldest stone. They landed on us but refused to leave my face. She even licked her lips and then smiled at me. It wasn’t the kind of smile that was soft and sweet. It was the kind of smile that promised a wild fucking ride. Maybe one a man could never get off. She was what Lev was. Just as dangerous, or more, because some men might never expect it.

I refused to keep eye contact, refusing to disrespect my wife in that way. It was meant to be flirtatious.

Between the dangerous woman and the two women staring at Stella like they didn’t recognize her, I could feel my wife harden and shrink at the same time. We were still connected by our hands, but at the Russian woman’s incessant stare, she was trying to glue us together. I kissed her forehead and concentrated on the two women who had been cruel to mine. I stared at them until they looked away.

“Tell me,” was all I said to my men in Italian.

Armando cleared his throat. “They want to make a deal. Information on where the Russians are hiding in return for their safety.”

“Getting too close, ah?”

One of them took a deep breath and rushed out in panicked French. “ Oui! ” Then she went on to say that it was all Boris’s idea to keep Stella locked up—and any Russian before him.

“English,” my wife said from beside me, staring at them. “Speak in English, Henriette.”

“Oh,” this Henriette said, like she was surprised Stella had a voice.

The other sister, Odette, who thought she was fucking sneaky enough for me not to notice how she kept throwing daggers at my wife, told her sister to shut up in French.

“Tell me,” I said in English to Odette, as calm as the eye of a storm, “do you value your life.”

“Yes, good, sir,” she whispered, blinking her lashes at me, playing the innocent doe part. “That is why my sister and I came here.”

“To ask for immunity for the right reasons, or because you were forced to?”

She looked me in the eyes and knew I wasn’t fucking playing. Not with two women who could have helped my wife, and by doing so, could have saved their own lives. And by doing so, just being good fucking women to another women in need. Instead, they chose to be cruel to my heart, breaking it when they attacked her for the things that meant the most to her.

“Choose your words wisely,” I said.

Odette started to cry. “I do not know!”

I couldn’t stand a fucking liar, but my wife wanted to be here for a reason. She just kept staring at them, like she was trying to forget what they’d done to her, her special things, but she was having a hard time forgiving.

“Stella,” I said, and she knew why I’d said her name. This was her call or not.

After a few seconds, she nodded, wiped her eyes with her free hand, though she wasn’t crying. “Send them to a place where they can experience the things I did.”

Henriette screeched like she was in agony. She started to speak to her sister in rushed French again. It was almost too fast to follow along, but mamma was fluent in French, and she’d taught us well. Henriette was pissed at her sister for thinking this was a good idea. Odette started to scream back at her, telling her they had no choice. Between our men, Lev and his, they were caught in a trap!

I looked at Placido, and he nodded. He gave one of the other men the same look, then ordered them to follow his lead in Italian. The men grabbed tape and wrapped it around their mouths. My wife wanted English. She’d get it or else.

Odette and Henriette were sweating, their hair sticking to their temples, and tears ran in rivers down their cheeks, their noses running.

Stella squeezed my hand. “I’ve seen enough, Matteo,” she whispered.

I nodded, kissing her temple, and then walked her back to the castello . Her eyes were dim, her spirit sunken in, and she climbed into bed, covering herself up. I watched her, my fists balling and releasing, balling and releasing, tempted to break both of their necks. The only reason I didn’t—my wife had given an order, and linked by blood, hers more powerful than mine, I had to listen to it.

“Matteo?” she whispered after a few minutes.

“Yeah, baby.”

“I can’t wait for winter.” Her voice was even lower than before.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“Yes.” She sighed, and it sounded so heavy, like even something that was supposed to be soft was almost too much to bear. “The first time I felt warm in years was when you gave me your coat.”

“And they took it away from you.” I kept my voice even, but I was breaking on the inside. I was breaking so fucking hard for her.

“They did. It’ll be so nice to have more than just a coat.”

“You have me. Per sempre.”

“ Per sempre ,” she repeated, another one of those heavy sighs weighing down my soul.

A light knock came at our door. I refused to get it, but I knew. For this much activity, for the men to come to our door, something else had happened. Stella seemed to know it too.

“It might be important, Matteo.”

I sighed and opened the door.

Oscar took a step back, his wary eye taking me in. He knew I was in no mood for fuckery. “I am here with a situation.” He waited for permission to speak more.

“Tell me.”

“Lev has lost control of his…woman.”

It seemed out of the blue, mamma appeared with a tray of warm tea and cookies. “I have this until you get back. Your father is with the men in the other building.” Her eyes bore into mine, and she was trying to tell me something. Something that seemed too disturbing for Stella to hear, probably.

I took the tray from her. “Give me a minute, mamma.”

She made a motion like… go ahead .

I shut the door and brought the tray over to the bed. Stella sat up some, her hair a mess, and her face set into a stone wall, but I knew underneath it all she wasn’t handling this well. Two monsters from her nightmares had come back to haunt her.

“Here.” I set the tray down in front of her. “Eat. Drink.”

“I’m not really up for anything,” she whispered.

I nodded, but what I really wanted to do was throw the fucking tray at the wall. My heart was hurting. I didn’t know how to deal with the pain. I’d fucking figure it out, but in that moment—I was murderous. Enough to overrule my wife and kill her monsters.

“Is your mom here?” she asked.

“Yeah. She brought the tea and cookies.”

She looked down at her hands. “Invite her in.”

I lifted her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I’m going to take care of this situation, then I’ll take care of you.”

She gave me a weak smile. “I know.”

I kissed her all over the face, loud smooches, until I went to leave her with a soft kiss on the lips. She grabbed for my arm.

“I don’t like that woman,” she said, and instead of the weakness I’d picked up on before, it was nothing but fire.

“Yeah, me either.”

“I’m serious, Matteo.”

“Am I a joking man, baby?”

“She likes you. She wants you. I don’t like it.”

“No one has me but you.”

“Vow it.”

I looked into her eyes and repeated the part of my vows where I swore to forsake all others. Only for her. Only for her would I ever repeat myself.

“I believe you, Matteo Fausti,” she breathed, “but I don’t trust her. She’s an ice queen who wants you to warm her bed. You burn like a furnace. She needs to thaw out.”

“I’ll keep my distance.”

I left her with another kiss—this one reminding her that I was her man, and she didn’t have to worry about anything coming between us—least of all another woman. Mamma touched my arm as I walked out, and she walked in. Stella liked having her around. Probably because she was so warm. She was safe. Motherly.

I rubbed the same spot over my chest that my old man always did as I walked outside and my men hauled ass to keep up with me. I could tell by the way they kept flicking glances at each other that none of them wanted to tell me what the fuck happened. I knew right away when I walked into the small stone villa.

The stench of a bitter death couldn’t be hidden, not even if it happened a few seconds ago.

I looked at my men, and they all stood tall, but none of them were taking a step forward to take responsibility for the two dead women in front of me. Their necks had been broken, heads dangling at an awkward angle. The one who tried to give me the innocent eyes, her eyes were still open.

Lev stepped forward. “She did it as a favor.”

My eyes automatically went to the brunette with the cutting eyes. She wiggled her eyebrows at me and waved.

Saverio, who had probably arrived with papà, lifted his brows at me. We’d been friends, more like family, since we were kids. I knew what he was saying with the lift of those thick brows. I knew my father’s eyes were saying the same thing, along with the “huh” he expressed.

She’s wiggling her eyebrows and waving like she knitted a blanket instead of killing two women.

I knew what was in her ice blue eyes, though. Expectation. Or she wouldn’t be wiggling anything at me or waving like that.

“What’s the fucking catch?” I said.

Lev smiled. “She wants a man as payment.”

“Let me sum up the situation,” I said. “She’s been dubbed the black widow.”

Lev shrugged, as if to say, it doesn’t take a man with the best gut feeling to figure that one out. “She prefers to be called Varvara.”

“Barbara?” Placido asked for clarification.

“ Varva ra,” Lev repeated, not looking at him, but at me.

“No one asked her to take care of those two,” Saverio said. “That wasn’t the decision that was made.”

Armando had filled Saverio in. Saverio was my second in command, and Armando was my third.

Lev shrugged again, as if to say, not my issue .

Varvara hissed at Saverio, then started stalking toward him.

I lifted a hand, and looking around, focused on Oscar. Nah, she might kill him. And besides, my wife mentioned something about him being interested in Noemi. They were dancing at our wedding. I didn’t want to ruin his fucking chances. Especially after what my wife was going to do to me after what I did to his eye. I had a temporary reprieve, but call it a gut feeling, later, she was going to take it up with me and make it an issue.

I had a mamma. A sister. A grandmother. All three women were opinionated. I knew how this fucking worked.

Placido stood taller when my eyes locked on his. Like a solider taking one for the team, he turned the features of his face into steel and nodded.

I looked at Lev. “Placido,” I said. “He’ll walk the, ah, lady to wherever she’s staying.”

“No!” she screeched. She pointed at me.

Lev looked at me, and he knew. She’d have to kill me before she put her hands on me. He told her in Russian that any Fausti man who wore a wedding ring or was attached was not available. End of discussion. We lived by the truth in our word.

She made a sad sound, pouting her lip, and then grabbed Placido by the shirt and started hauling him toward the door. He gave us a backward glance that was almost comical. Before we even made it outside, the men were laughing amongst themselves, taking bets on if he would make it through the night or not.

“Lev,” I called before he melted into the inky darkness.

He stood, facing me, hands in his pockets.

“My man better come back alive.”

He grinned at me, lifted a hand, and then was gone.

A few seconds later, we heard a grunt from the bushes, like an animal had been tackled, Placido’s praying voice, then, “ Whoa! Hehehehehe .” In Italian, “That tickles!”

The sound of her crazed laughter seemed to echo through the night.

My old man grinned, patting my shoulder, like we’d both dodged a bullet. Safe and sound , his touch seemed to say, not from the black widow, but from the women we call our wives.

Yeah, a much more dangerous species of woman—even more dangerous than a woman who killed to soothe something in the blood.