Page 18 of Stolen Queen

I listen with growing dread as Father settles on reaching out again to an associate in New York as his first choice for me. The man is old enough to be my father, and the horror on my mother’s face suggests he’s not a nice man.

I study my mother. I see the faint lines around her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she fusses with her napkin. My mother looks tired and worn down. Like the life in her is dead. In her, I see my future. My stomach roils, and it’s not from the alcohol. It’s from knowing my life will never be mine. That as bad as it is now, it will probably get worse. I want to scream, to run away.

“I’ll make arrangements for us to go to New York next week?—”

“Next week?” I blurt out and then tense, waiting for my father’s wrath.

His eyes narrow.

I swallow. “I… I… was hoping you’d find someone in Chicago.”

“No. The D’Amatos think they’re better than us. This alliance with the Nardone Family will prove who’s more powerful.”

I fight back tears. The thought of leaving everything I know, my sisters, my home, even the small comforts I've carved out for myself here, is too much to bear. But more than that, I'm terrified of what awaits me in New York. A loveless marriage to a cruel man, a life of subservience and fear.

"Father," I begin hesitantly, "I… I'm not sure I'm ready for such a big move. Perhaps we could wait a little longer?"

His eyes narrow, and I brace myself for his anger. "Ready? You're eighteen, Ava. It's time you started acting like the woman you are, not some silly child. No wonder the D’Amatos don’t want you."

The words sting.

“Vincenzo, the D'Amatos didn’t?—”

“Are you contradicting me?” my father bellows at my mother.

She looks down. “No. Of course not.”

“I didn’t think so.” He turns his attention back to me. “You’ve been raised to be a good wife, Ava. I expect you to represent the Rinella family with pride.”

“Yes, Father.”

He nods in satisfaction and then details the plans for my departure. Inside, I’m reeling, desperate for a way out. How can I avoid this fate? Running away seems impossible. Where would I go? How would I live? Who could I trust?

The memory of Matteo flashes through my mind. He doesn’t like my father. And he was kind to me last night. Would he help?

I push the thought away. He only helped me last night because he understood how dangerous it was to the D’Amatos that I’d shown up at one of their establishments. He was protecting Elio D’Amato more than he was helping me.

Maybe I could fake an illness? But that would only delay the inevitable. Or perhaps I could try to reason with Mother, convince her to speak to Father on my behalf. But even as the thought forms, I know it's hopeless. She's never stood up to him before. Why would she start now?

As I sit at the breakfast table, my father droning on about my future, I’m dying inside.

6

MATTEO

Istand outside Ava's room feeling like an idiot. For five weeks, I've been coming here every night, checking on her like some creepy stalker. But I can't help myself. That kiss we shared… it haunts me. The taste of peppermint on her lips, the softness of her skin under my fingers. I close my eyes, willing the memory away even as I purposefully conjure it up.

I still don’t know how I put her to bed without fucking us both senseless. The moment my lips met hers, her body pressed flush against mine, I craved like I’d never craved before. My conscience won out, surprising since I often wonder whether I have one.

I left her room, my dick hard as hell. When I got home, I was barely in the door when I had to jerk off to the memory of her kiss and her warm, supple body. Fuck, even thinking of it now, my dick thickens.

When I haven’t been fighting with my libido over her, I’ve kicked myself for bringing her back to her house of horrors. I should've taken her far away from this hellhole, from the monster who calls himself her father. But I didn't. I played it safe like a good little soldier. Like a fucking coward.

I’ve tried to forget her through work. But each night, when I should be heading home, I find myself outside Ava’s room. Some nights, she doesn’t make an appearance. Other nights, she steps onto her balcony but doesn’t make an attempt to leave. I told myself I was coming here to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, and after a week when she hadn’t tried to escape, I decided she didn’t need me, that I was a fucking lunatic for continuing to come simply because I felt guilty for not saving her from her father.

But then I learned she’d gone with her father to New York to meet Don Nardone, and my guilt ratcheted up to a million. Don Nardone will destroy her spirit for sure. And eventually, he’ll kill her if the two missing former Mrs. Nardones are any indication.

The rage builds, threatening to consume me. I want to storm into Vincenzo's home, rip his arms off, and use them to beat him to within an inch of his life. I want to grab Ava and run, consequences be damned.

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