King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

51. Matteo

Chapter 51

Matteo

T here was something too wild inside of me to control.

Too wild to sit.

Too wild to stand.

It was fucking ruling me.

Mamma’s hand went to reach out to me, but I was already up, charging toward someone I could talk to. None of the nurses wanted to deal with me, so they sent a doctor out to speak to me. It was the same doctor that had taken care of Stella after I’d found her in that tomb.

The doctor’s eyes were fierce. She was bracing for me.

“Fix her,” I said, keeping my tone even, though under the surface, it seemed like my blood was made of lava. If this woman denied me, I’d kill her and her entire family.

Because no sign as powerful as the one I just got—my wife going under—would go unnoticed by me, and I’d force the outcome of this situation.

“Fix her.” She studied my face. Then it dawned on her. “You want us to do that without telling her first?”

“It has to be done. Do it. I will tell her.”

She went to shake her head, but when her eyes met mine, she took a step back.

“A step will not help you,” I said in Italian. “Running will not help. Save my wife or I will destroy your life.”

She knew I wasn’t fucking around. This woman was nothing but a set of skilled hands to me. Her face. Her hair. Her height. Her build. It mattered none to me. I’d only remember her for two reasons after this. If she had a hand in saving my wife, or if she had a hand in taking her life. No in-between.

She sighed and nodded. “I do not condone this, but I do know it is in her best interest to do it. I will go tell the other doctors.”

She left and came back a few minutes later.

“It will be done,” she said.

“Good, for your sake.” I cleared my throat. “Tell me, how is my wife.”

“She is doing beautifully. And so is your son.”

My son.

Those two words hit me in the center of my chest like two fists shocking my heart back into a regular rhythm. I took the chair behind me, setting my head in my hands. I could feel my family around me, and after the doctor asked for permission, I nodded, and the doctor repeated her words.

“Mama and son are doing beautifully. He is ten pounds, eleven ounces, and quite long. He also has quite the set of lungs on him, except after his first cry or two, he settled.”

All the women behind me started to cry.

The doctor went to walk off, and I said her name. She stopped with her back turned toward me.

“Fix me,” I said.

She turned and faced me. “There is nothing wrong with you, Signore Fausti,” she almost snapped, which was fair. I’d just threatened her life if she didn’t do what I’d ordered her to do. She wasn’t one of my men.

“No,” I said. “Not that you can see. My wife is my life, and there is something that will harm her. And I just ordered you to take it from her. If she cannot have any more children, neither will I.”

“Ah,” she whispered softly. “I see.”

Maybe she thought this was fair, because there was satisfaction in her eyes.

“All right,” she said. “The procedure does not take long, and you will need tests beforehand, nothing serious, and then to be prepped for surgery. If you would like to be there when your wife wakes, we will need to start the process now.”

We started.

And it was done.