Page 52 of Stolen Queen

"Then act like it," Matteo snaps. "You've proven I can't trust you to stay put when I'm gone." He shakes his head. “I should have known. After all, you snuck out of your father’s home, proving you’re reckless with your life. But listen up, Princess, this now affects my life too.”

“Yeah, well, I never asked for you to kidnap me.”

“I’m protecting you and you agreed to it, including abiding by my rules.”

“That was when I believed you… respected you. I think I have Stockholm Syndrome, but I’m cured now.”

His eyes are dark, filled with anger and torment. I hold his gaze, not wanting him to see me flinch.

He whips around, heading to the door to leave the room.

No, no, no… I can't be locked up again. "If you lock me in here," I warn, my voice low and steady, "Everything will change. I’ll never trust or respect you.”

“This is all to protect you because you clearly don’t understand the danger we’re in.” He sucks in a breath. “Besides, you just told me you don’t trust or respect me.”

“I won’t live like this, Matteo.” I'm on the verge of breaking, and I hate him for it.

“The only way you’ll live at all is by staying put.” He starts to shut the door.

“I’d rather die than live like this.”

Matteo's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of shock crossing his face. For a moment, neither of us moves or speaks.

I think I see conflict in his eyes, as if he’s torn between his instinct to protect me and the realization that his methods are killing me.

I wait to see what he says or does next knowing it’s hopeless to think he’ll do anything different from what his nature tells him to do—lock me up. He says it's to protect me, but I know better. He’s protecting his own skin. My father will hurt me if he finds me, but he won’t kill me. Not when I’m valuable to him as a business pawn. But he will kill Matteo if he can and a war will start between the families.

Despite all of Matteo’s words about protecting me, I know his only true loyalty is to his family. He doesn’t want a war to start that could hurt Elio. So there are two reasons to lock me up—to save his life and to keep peace between the families.

I am what I’ve always been—a commodity, a bargaining chip, a pawn. I was an idiot to think last night meant anything different than before. Oh, sure, Matteo is attracted to me, but his reputation suggests he’s attracted to all women. I’m no different. That thought hurts almost as much as his locking me up again.

He stands in the doorway, watching me. I stand in the room, helpless to leave, watching him back. We've reached a breaking point, and we both know it.

20

MATTEO

Iclench my fists, my anger boiling over as I stare at Ava. Her words cut deep, comparing me to her father. Doesn't she understand I'm trying to protect her? To give her the freedom she craves while keeping her safe?

"Fine," I spit out, my voice low and dangerous. "You want freedom? You've got it. I won't lock you in your room."

Her eyes widen in surprise, nearly in triumph, but I'm not finished.

"But remember this, Princess. When I turn up dead or missing because you've left and outed me to your father or my enemies, my blood will be on your hands."

The color drains from her face, and a part of me feels guilty for scaring her. But I push that feeling aside. She needs to understand the gravity of our situation.

"I've got to go." I stalk away, unable to lose the feeling that I’m signing my death warrant by not locking her in her room.

As I ride the elevator down, my mind races. I'm burning with anger, guilt, and a cocktail of other emotions I can't even begin to untangle. It's messing with my head, making it hard to think straight. And that's dangerous in my line of work.

I need to get it together before I see Elio. He's too perceptive, and if he catches on that I'm hiding something, it could spell disaster for both me and Ava.

As the elevator nears the lobby level, I consider stopping and asking the doorman to call me if Ava leaves the building. But ultimately, I don’t. The fewer people know about Ava being here, the better, so I ride the elevator down to the garage.

I climb into my car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The urge to turn back, to make sure Ava will stay, is almost overwhelming. But I’m not a monster. I’m not her father.

I pull into traffic, forcing myself to compartmentalize, to push thoughts of Ava to the back of my mind and focus on my job. I can’t afford to let my personal life interfere with business.

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