Moro stopped pacing. Sighed. “Your friend who was just here—Saverio, I believe is his name—understands the assignment, and that time is of the essence, but if I must explain in more detail…the Nemours are onto me. There might be discourse in their abode, but they agree on one thing: not giving the dancer toyou. Régine would rather hide her, even if she’s the only one who gets to see her. Boris would rather see her dea?—”
A switch flipped inside of me, and I rose from my chair so fast, Moro pinned himself to the wall and lifted his hands in surrender, not finishing his sentence. “I am just stating facts! That new husband of Régine, he is not all there.” He tapped his temple. “I have met some sick people before, but he eats the cake. Or shall I say…heart. I heard about what yo—what happened to Régine’s previous husband. Ivan. His heart was stolen and delivered to Boris. Boris ate it with ketchup after he shared it with his wolf.” He shivered. “That is disgusting. Even for me.”
“You would prefer to pair it with olive oil then?”ZioRomeo said. “Enjoy a nice Chianti with it?”
Another huff of laughter from Marciano.
Moro gagged and gave us all a look that clearly meant,you people are not all there.Except…who the fuck was wearing acostume with lace trimmings and a wig, and thought he was a pirate? Not any of us.
The room grew quiet, but aticking clock somewhere in the house seemed loud in my ears. I stared at my hands, opening and closing them, trying to clear my head and prepare for the battle to come. The most pressing issue closing in on me: getting Stella out without her losing one hair on her head. Having Moro get her out would have been the easiest solution. We expected they wouldn’t go for it, though. That was why Saverio had other plans in play.
A few minutes later, I could hear piano keys tinkling in the other room.
Maestro.
He was passing the time by creating music. It was an intense sound, at first, then it morphed into something much softer, sweeter. It sounded like the music that was playing while love was being written in the stars. The author of that love being inspired by it.
“That sounds so nice,” Moro said, taking a seat at the table. He called for his sidekick, a man called Firebeard. A knock came, and Firebeard peeked his head in. Moro looked at me. “I have found a catalogue, for your viewing pleasure, sir. Would you mind if my man brought it in?”
I waved a hand.
Firebeard left and then came back with a pamphlet. Moro thumbed through it and then stopped halfway in. He pushed the catalogue closer to me. My eyes were instantly drawn to the woman in the picture. Black hair, pale skin, what seemed like a diamond-encrusted costume. She was in a sensual dance position, her silver eyes staring at the camera like she was entrancing it. A celestial fire.
Silver eyes.
Fuck me.They even made her wear contacts.
It was the first time I’d seen her since that night, and my heart started to beat faster, my palms slick. My stomach felt like it had hit a massive dip in the road.
Wasn’t that how papà described the feeling he got when he’d seen mamma? Even till this day, he said it would come on him out of the blue. It was a feeling that never thinned or disappeared. I was feeling the same. Whatever I’d felt the night I’d first found her seemed amplified.
“Na muri scrivutu ne stiddi,” I whispered to the picture, touching the spot over my heart. “Un amore scritto nelle stelle.” Exactly how I felt about the woman on the page staring back at me, about the song my brother was playing in the background.
A love that is written in the stars…
“And you donotbelieve she is not of this world?”
It took a minute before I realized Moro was speaking to me. I looked up and met his eyes.
Yeah, I could believe that, but not in the same way Moro and men like him did. I was always taught that all women were not of this world—they’re special to the men who fall for them—just like Stella was special to me. But what I’d learned when I’d first laid eyes on her was that, whatever it was about her that drew me in wasnotof this world. She carried whatever it was within her. And I’d always follow it. Just like I followed it to find her.
The music continued while I studied the picture. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Offher.When I looked up again, everyone had cleared out of the room. I took a deep breath, and on exhale, the door quietly opened, my father walking through a pool of soft light before he shut it behind him. The light in here was electrical, even though it wasn’t as harsh. It was dimmed to match the mood.
I stood and faced my father. He had a severe look on his face, but in his eyes, I found compassion and understanding. His eyes were as dark as mine, and most people couldn’t find anything inthem, not able to get past his barrier. But I could. His eyes were mine.
He set a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I have been in your shoes,” he said in Italian. “I have stood where you are. When you save Stella, you will save yourself. The feelings that accompany the distance and the reunion will make for a powerful connection that you will never forget or sever. It will bond you to her, and you will feel something powerful—something that will serve as a reminder for the rest of your life.”
With his strong hand on my shoulder, it felt like I stood taller, taller than him even. I was a lot like my grandfather, Luca, but I was my father’s son, and I’d never forget it. I never wanted to. I nodded, solemn, and then looked at the clock on the wall.
My father sighed. “Almost.”
We took the time to bow our heads in silent prayer, and when a knock came at the door, my father made the sign of the cross, starting on my forehead and ending over my heart. Before whoever it was walked in, he pulled me in and hugged me, then told whoever it was to come in.
Lev walked in first, followed by Saverio. We usually followed behind, not giving an enemy the prime position to put a bullet in the back of our skulls. But Lev didn’t care where he walked or what position he was in. Some said he was so fast, a bullet couldn’t keep up. I fucking believed it. Muscles didn’t equal strength or smarts. He had both in spades, even though he wasn’t bulky.
Lev and Saverio shared the same look, though. Like something was off. My look demanded an answer my mouth didn’t have to—tell me.
Saverio looked me in the eye while Lev stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed. “As we discussed, the plan was to cut them off before they made it to the club. Fighting them onthe street is easier than fighting them in the underground club—for Stella’s sake.”
