Page 5 of Stolen Queen

I’m playing with fire as I watch her. The doors open, and she steps out onto the small balcony. I shift back further into the shadows and watch her. Gone is the carefully composed façade from dinner. Here, in the soft moonlight, she looks… real. Her hair shifts as a breeze blows through it, making her look wanton. She’s wearing a simple nightgown that does nothing to hide her curves. Her nipples are hard, likely from the cool breeze. Of course, my dirty mind thinks about those nipples. My mouth waters wanting to suck them.

She’s sexy and breathtaking, and I can stand here all night watching her. But it isn’t just her raw beauty and sexuality that are holding me captive. There’s a sadness around her. It triggers a primal part of me that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with protecting her.

She leans against the railing, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. What is she thinking about? Not about me, that’s for sure. I’m just a soldier. I’m a nobody in her world.

But I can’t stop watching her, wondering what dreams and fears swirl behind those expressive eyes. I want to climb up there, to wrap her in my arms and promise her the world. If only I could. But I have no right to be here like a fucking peeping Tom, much less thinking about her. I’m an intruder, violating her privacy for my own selfish desires.

Shame washes over me, mingling with the longing that refuses to subside. I shouldn’t disrespect her like this. And I’m disloyal to disrespect Elio like this.

I slip away from the Rinella property. The image of Ava on that balcony, bathed in moonlight, is seared into my brain. I won’t be able to shake it no matter how hard I try. I’m well and truly fucked if Elio finds out I was here, if he senses my pull to Ava. I’d deserve whatever he did to me.

I really should go to the club and find a woman, or two or three, to fuck away this gnawing need for Ava. But for the first time since I discovered sex, I’m not interested. Yep, I’m well and truly fucked.

1

AVA - FIVE MONTHS LATER

I'm sitting in the parlor, idly flipping through a travel magazine, imagining a world in which I am free to explore and be who I want to be. Not that I know who she is. But wouldn’t it be nice to find out?

I vaguely notice the knock on the door. My father’s booming voice greets his visitors. It’s only as the voices grow louder that I realize he’s bringing them here.

I barely have time to rise and smooth my dress before they sweep into the room.

Elio D'Amato follows my father, his dark eyes intense and focused. He's dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, exuding an air of authority. Five months ago, I was engaged to him. I was nervous about it, and yet, there’s something about him that made me feel safe. I wouldn’t have been free to be myself, but I feel like he would have been kind.

But right after our first meeting, he called off the wedding and he’s now married to someone else. But then his missing younger brother, Lazaro, returned and my father and Elio arranged for me to marry him.

Lazaro’s reputation scares me, but having recently met him, I feel again that being with the D’Amatos is the best option for me. They’re a kind, close-knit family. At least, that’s what I think. Compared to all the other families my father can marry me off to, the D’Amatos seem the nicest. And they’re here in Chicago, not in New York where my father was planning to send me before Lazaro returned.

Lana. Elio’s sister enters close behind him, her chin lifted high. There's a fierce determination in her gaze that both intimidates and intrigues me. I wish I could go through the world like she does. Especially the world we live in where men control and dominate the women. Lana isn’t simply a pretty face raised to serve men. She’s strong and has responsibilities in the D’Amato family business.

My breath stalls when I see Matteo Moretti saunter into the room behind Lana. A roguish grin plays at his lips. He winks at me, and I feel a blush creep up my neck. I don’t know what it is about him that always has me tongue-tied. He’s handsome, for sure, but so are Elio and Lazaro.

My father's voice is jovial as he offers them a drink. I wait to be seen and dismissed, all the while wondering why the D’Amatos are here. Does this have something to do with my recent betrothal to Lazaro? And if so, why isn’t Lazaro with them?

The thought of Lazaro sends a pang through my chest. He's kind, but there's no spark between us. Not like the electricity I feel when I see Matteo. It's so strange, since I've only met him twice. But each time, it feels like my insides light up.

Part of me wants to stay, to be included in whatever discussion is about to take place. But I know my place. Be pretty. Be quiet. Be invisible.

My father is normally a stern, cold man, barking out orders for everything. But with the D’Amatos here, he’s all smiles. “I hope you’ll stay for dinner. We have much to discuss.”

"That's very kind of you, Vincenzo, but we wouldn't want to impose,” Elio says. There’s something in his expression that suggests this isn’t a friendly visit to hash out a business deal.

"Nonsense!" My father claps Elio on the back, a gesture that seems friendly but I know is meant to brook no argument. "I insist. There’s much to talk about."

My father's eyes find mine, and I straighten my spine instinctively.

"Ava, my dear," he says, his tone deceptively warm. "Why don't you help the staff prepare for our guests? Show the D’Amatos how you’ve been raised to be a perfect Mafia wife."

Lana makes an almost imperceptible expression of distaste. Matteo, however, doesn’t hide his disdain for my father. It almost feels like they don't like how my father talks to me. I find it fascinating that none of them seem to like my father, and yet they play this game of trying to forge an alliance.

But my father’s words aren’t a request. They’re an order, so I nod and smile, making my way out of the parlor. As I pass Matteo, our eyes lock for a brief moment. There's something in his gaze that makes my heart quicken. I wouldn’t call it a new sensation. I’ve had crushes on boys at school. And yet, there’s something different about the feeling as well.

In the kitchen, I relay my father's orders to our chef, who immediately springs into action. As pots clang and the staff rush about with greater fervor, I lean against the cool marble counter, trying to steady my nerves. I know what this dinner means. It's not just a meal, it's a power play. My father is reminding the D'Amatos of our family's strength, our resources. And I'm just another piece on his chessboard to be moved and sacrificed as he sees fit.

The weight of expectation settles heavily on my shoulders. I'm supposed to be the perfect daughter and next, the perfect wife. What would happen if I didn’t want to play by the rules anymore? Yeah, right. Like I have a choice. I’ve thought about running away, but my father would find me. And when he did, who knows what he’d do to me? I shudder at the possibilities.

As the staff plates the meal, I make my way to the dining room. I wait with my mother and three sisters for my father and his guests to enter the dining room. Matteo is seated next to me. He smiles at me, and I turn my gaze away, feeling embarrassed at all the crazy sensations coursing through my body from his attention.

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