Señor Billonario, su esposa abandonada regresó con cuatrilli

PROLOGUE

REINA, 6 YEARS OLD

Once upon a time there sat a beautiful castle along the shore of the Gulf of Trieste. It was a magical place indeed, with views of the sea to the east and sprawling hills to the west. A savage king and his two sons lived amidst the darkness, slowly wilting right alongside everything in it. No amount of magic could save them.

Filling the gardens were poppies, wild jasmine, gardenias, and violets. The soft breeze traveled the air, and with it, so many scents. The sea, flowers, and fragrance of the citrus fruits all misted the air and attracted the butterflies now fluttering around us.

My sister and I gaped at the serenity of it all, her hand in mine. Dozens of people laughed, ate, and danced. A melodious old Italian song, like the ones Papà loved, filled the air and people chattered in Italian and English.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said as I signed to Mamma, Papà, and Phoenix. Lights flickered over my big sister’s face, and for the first time in a long time, an awed and happy expression passed across it.

“It’s a magical home,” Mamma chimed in, signing as well, but the expression on her face was grim and her eyes reflected unhappiness. Papà’s hand roamed up and down her back in a soothing motion.

“Romero, sei arrivato.” A deep, stern voice had Mamma pulling both Phoenix and me closer. I didn’t understand Italian. Papà mainly conversed with Mamma in English, so there was never a need. “I’m glad you could make it, along with your girls and your lovely wife,” said the man, switching to our native language, his blue eyes zeroing in on my sister and me.

“Angelo, nice to see you,” Papà greeted him. “Girls, this is Mr. Leone. He’s our host.” My sister and I leaned farther into our mamma’s skirt while Papà’s hand wrapped around her waist. “This is my wife, Grace.”

Mr. Leone’s eyes shifted to our mother, and a flicker of something I didn’t understand crossed over them. Something I didn’t like.

He took Mamma’s free hand and brought it to his lips.

“So nice to meet you, Mrs. Romero.” I didn’t like it. I wanted to yank my mother’s hand from his grip and tell him she was mine, but I knew Papà would be displeased if I didn’t show good manners. “You’re even more breathtaking in person than on the screen.”

Mamma used to be an actress, but she gave it up for Papà. And for Phoenix and me. She was beautiful, and when she smiled, everyone became mesmerized. Her soft blonde locks fell down her shoulders, bouncing when she moved. She wore a red dress, Papà’s favorite color, to show him how much she loved him. He loved her very much too, but Mamma wasn’t happy. I’d heard him tell her once that he would give her the moon and the stars so she’d be happy again.

Mamma’s lips thinned as she watched Mr. Leone, in the same way they did when she didn’t like something. Like when the doctor told Mamma that Phoenix lost her hearing. She never cried; she never yelled. But Papà cried that day. I didn’t understand any of it.

Papà took Mamma’s hand. “Let’s dance, amore mio,” he said, his eyes landing on my sister and me. “Want to go play?” We both nodded. “Go and have fun. Don’t get in trouble.”

“And don’t get dirty,” Mamma yelled after us as we scurried away.

We walked through the gardens and grabbed two cannoli, only to shove them into our mouths and take two more. We giggled and ran off before someone could yell at us. Lots of Italian words were spoken. There were many curious glances thrown our way, but we kept mostly to ourselves.

When we were tired of playing outside, we moved to the grand castle, roaming the empty rooms and avoiding other people. They were all laughing and talking like they’d known each other forever. They even talked to Papà in Italian, knowing Mamma didn’t understand a single word.

We were foreigners here, but maybe not for long. Papà wanted to move us back to Italy, so we were spending this summer vacationing here. Mamma said it was a test, but I was unsure what we were testing.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoing across the long corridor. No answer. I shared a glance with my sister, then turned back to the long hallway with shiny marble floors.

An idea struck me, and when I met my big sister’s eyes, her mischievous gaze told me she had the same thought. Mamma said Phoenix and I had identical eyes. They were the color of a deep blue sea, like the bottoms of a lagoon.

“Should we do it?” I signed. Her eyes lowered to my feet. Mine lowered to hers. We wore matching dresses with frilly, lacy socks. This might be the best use for them yet.

She nodded and we kicked off the shoes that Mamma had carefully selected for us earlier that day.

I raised my hand. Three. Two. One.

We shot into a sprint, gliding over the marble floor of the mansion. We giggled, falling over each other and rolling over the cold, slick surface.

“We’ll be in trouble if we get caught,” Phoenix signed.

“We won’t get caught,” I assured her. “I’ll protect you.”

We did it again and again, gliding like we were on ice. We bumped, ran, bumped again. It almost felt like flying.

Until… Crash!

We froze. Pieces of a large vase that looked like it belonged to Mulan lay scattered on the floor. Our breaths sounded louder in the aftermath. My heart was beating wildly, my pulse buzzing in my ears. Papà’s warning flashed in my mind: You must behave at this party, girls. Stay out of trouble.

“What the hell happened here?” A deep Italian voice startled me and I whimpered, causing Phoenix to do the same. The lion’s eyes turned cold and cruel, staring us down. He took a step forward, his form darkening over us like a raincloud. I took my sister’s hand in mine and pushed her behind me. She was taller than me, but I was stronger. I’d bite him so she could run to get our papà.

“Which one of you did this?” he hissed.

Panic rose inside me. We should run. We should scream. Yet my voice was stuck in my throat. A six-year-old girl against the evil king.

“It was me.”

“No, Father, it was me.”

The voices of two boys answered in unison.

I followed the sound and found them standing in the corner. Two small shadows, unmoving. Their eyes were locked on the man.

One boy looked like his father. Same coloring. Same dark brown, almost black hair. Same harshness.

But the other… He was unlike any boy I had ever seen. His face had sharp angles. His skin was golden. His hair was darker than midnight and blue hues shone in its strands. His hooded eyes reflected the entire galaxy—a universe of its own—with stars buried deep within them.

When his gaze found mine, time came to a stop. It stood still, leaving us alone in the world.

It felt like looking up at the black velvet of the night, letting your dream swallow you. There was no sun in his eyes. There was no moon. But there were stars.

Stars that would one day shine only for me.