Stolen Queen (Dynasty of Deception #4)

3. Ava

3

AVA

I can't believe I actually did it. I escaped my bedroom… my home. I am free. The minute I reached the road outside my home, I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve never been unescorted anywhere. But I picked up a lot from friends in school, so I was able to order a rideshare and now, I’m in the city. Alone. The thrill of rebellion courses through my veins. For the first time in my life, I've defied my father's iron grip. No guards, no chaperones.

But where do I go from here? I have no plan, no destination in mind. I just knew I had to get out of that suffocating house before I went mad.

My gaze drifts across the street, landing on a sleek building with a line of well-dressed people outside. Music pulses from within. It’s exactly the kind of place my father would never allow me to set foot in.

"If I'm going to misbehave” —I square my shoulders— "I might as well go all out."

With a deep breath, I stride toward the club entrance, praying I don't give myself away as an imposter. I don’t look the part. Plus, I’m only eighteen. I step close to a group who is ushered in, following them in as if I’m with them.

I step into the club, and my senses are immediately overwhelmed. The pulsing music vibrates through my body, and the air is thick with the scents of perfume, alcohol, and something musky I can't place. Flashing lights paint the room in a kaleidoscope of colors, making my head spin.

My eyes widen as I take in the scene before me. Women in skimpy outfits that would make my father have a heart attack slink around the room, their movements sultry and practiced. Men in expensive suits lean against the bar, eyeing the crowd like predators on the hunt.

I tug at my oversized hoodie, suddenly feeling like a child playing dress-up. My attire might as well be a neon sign announcing my naivety to everyone here.

I catch sight of my reflection in a nearby mirror. Even with my face half-hidden by my hoodie, I can see the fire in my eyes. The fire that's been simmering inside me for years, waiting for a chance to break free. And here I am.

I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. I may not belong here, but I refuse to let that stop me. This is my night, my chance to taste freedom.

I approach the bar, my heart racing as I try to project an air of confidence I definitely don't feel. The bartender looks at me expectantly, and I realize I have no idea what to order. My knowledge of drinks is limited to the wine my father occasionally allows at dinner and his regular glasses of bourbon.

"I'll have… um…" I stammer, frantically searching my memory for something that sounds sophisticated.

Two men sidle up on either side of me. The one to my left flashes a charming smile.

“You look like a Cosmo gal."

I have no clue what that means, but I nod.

The first man chuckles and then tells the bartender to make me a Cosmopolitan while he asks for a scotch and water. The other man orders the same.

As the bartender whips up my drink, I resist the urge to run away because I know I’m out of my element. But this is what I want. Adventure, excitement, a taste of the world outside my gilded cage.

"So, what brings a girl like you to a place like this?" the second man asks, leaning in close.

The bartender sets a bright pink drink in front of me. I take a sip, savoring the sweet, tangy flavor. "I guess I was feeling rebellious."

They both laugh, and I smile despite my nerves. As we chat, I start to feel more at ease. The alcohol warms my veins, making me feel loose and free. As I finish another sip, a hand settles on my backside and squeezes. I jump, nearly spilling my Cosmopolitan.

"Hey!" I yelp.

The man who touched me grins, unrepentant. "Sorry, sweetheart. Couldn't resist." His gaze turns predatory as it scans my body.

My face burns with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. I open my mouth to tell him off.

“You touch her again and I’ll cut your hand off and shove it up your ass.”

“You and what—” The man’s words stop short and color drains from his face. “Mr. Moretti.”

“That’s right.”

Oh, my God. It’s Matteo.

“Since you know who I am, you know I’ll make good on it.” Matteo's expression is deadly serious.

“Come on, J.D.,” the man says with a nod to his friend. They rush off without looking back.

I swallow as Matteo steps closer to me, tall and imposing, his blue eyes blazing with something that looks like fury. The atmosphere around us shifts, the air crackling with tension.

"Are you alright?" he asks with a quick glance to the men who have found another woman.

I nod, unable to find my voice. A thousand questions race through my mind. What is Matteo doing here? How did he recognize me? And most importantly, what's he going to do now?

I stare up at Matteo, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it over the pulsing music. His presence is both comforting and terrifying. Here, in this unfamiliar world where I'm so out of my depth, he's a lifeline to the familiar. But he's also a reminder of everything I was trying to escape tonight. I know he doesn’t like my father, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take me out of here and hand me over to my father.

"Thank you," I manage to say, my voice barely audible over the din of the club. "For… for stepping in."

Matteo's eyes soften as he looks at me, but tension remains in his jaw. "Are you sure you're alright?" He leans closer so I can hear him.

I’m suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is. The scent of his cologne envelops me, a heady mixture of spice and something distinctly Matteo.

"What are you doing here, Ava?" Matteo's voice is low.

I lift my chin, trying to summon some of the defiance that drove me here in the first place. "I could ask you the same thing."

A ghost of a smile flits across his face. "I come here sometimes. To unwind." His eyes narrow as he takes in my oversized hoodie and jeans. "But you… you shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

The words sting, even though I know he's right. "I just wanted… I needed to get out. To breathe."

“And you can breathe here?” Amusement dances in his eyes.

It annoys me that he finds humor in my fish out of water situation. “Where I can’t breathe is at home. I want to do something that isn’t orchestrated by my father. Something I choose. I want my own experience, even if just for one night."

He watches me for a moment as if he’s considering. “I can understand that. But this isn’t a place for you to have an experience. Are you aware of what those men wanted?”

“They were flirting?—”

“They wanted to fuck you.”

I flinch. I’m not so na?ve that I don’t know about sex. Granted, it’s all academic. Mostly, my mother tells me it’s a duty. Men enjoy it and women endure it.

But I don’t want Matteo to know just how out of my element I am. “Maybe I wanted them to.”

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens to the point I’m surprised it doesn’t break off. “Is that your goal? Devalue yourself?—”

“My value isn’t in my sexuality.” I’m proud of myself for saying that. I feel like it’s something Lana D’Amato would say.

“Tell that to your father.”

I swallow, knowing he’s right. A horrifying thought strikes me. "You're not… you're not going to tell my father, are you?"

The fear must be evident in my voice because Matteo's expression immediately softens. "No. I'm not going to tell your father."

Relief washes over me, but it's quickly followed by confusion. "Why not? I know he’s mad about Lazaro backing out of the marriage. It could be a way to get into his good graces.”

He snorts. “I don’t give two shits about being in your father’s good graces.” His eyes narrow as he studies my cheek. His fingers brush over the still tender spot where my father hit me. “What happened here?”

I press a hand to my burning cheek. "It's nothing," I mumble, unable to meet Matteo's intense gaze. "I… disrespected my father."

The anger radiates off Matteo in waves. His hand clenches into a tight fist at his side. "He hit you.” It's not a question, but a statement of fact said with a quiet fury that sends a chill through me. It reminds me of just how deadly Matteo can be.

I realize that I’m not ready for this sort of adventure. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I look down, feeling embarrassed. “I should go.” I slip off the stool to leave.

Matteo's hand catches my arm, his grip firm yet gentle. "Wait.” His voice is softer. “What kind of adventure were you looking for tonight, Ava? What did you hope to find here?"

I blink up at him. "I… I don't know. I had no plans. I was just looking for something exciting, I guess. I’ve never been allowed to do anything. Drink. Have fun. I’ve never even been kissed."

Something flashes in his eyes as his gaze drifts to my lips. “Is that what you want? To be kissed?”

I’m embarrassed by how childish I must appear to someone like Matteo.

“I just want to live my life for once.”

He takes a step back and it feels like a rejection. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed. Why am I telling him all this? What is it about him that has me rambling my secrets?

"Listen, Ava," he says after a moment, running a hand through his hair. "How about I buy you another drink? Then I'll make sure you get home safely."

His offer is kind, practical even, but something has shifted between us. The connection we'd shared just moments ago feels strained. I said something wrong.

"That sounds… nice."

Matteo lifts a finger, ordering two shots of something called Rumplemintz. I've never heard of it before, but a sense of excitement bubbles within me. Maybe Matteo does understand. He’s giving me excitement in a protected way.

"Have you ever done a shot before?" Matteo asks, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

I shake my head, trying not to feel like a completely inexperienced idiot. "No."

He smiles, and it feels like it’s just for me. "Well then, let me teach you how to toast properly."

The bartender sets two small glasses filled with clear liquid in front of us. Matteo picks his up and motions for me to do the same.

"First, you look your drinking partner in the eye," he instructs, his gaze locking with mine. The intensity of his blue eyes makes my breath catch. "Then, you clink glasses, not too hard, mind you. We're not trying to spill anything."

I follow his lead, gently tapping my glass against his. The soft 'clink' sounds oddly celebratory in the noisy club.

"Now, here's the important part," Matteo continues, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You bring the glass to your lips, but before you drink, you look your partner in the eye again."

I do as he says, marveling at how easy and natural he makes it all seem. There's no pretense, no air of superiority. He’s not making fun of me. He’s helping me experience what I snuck out to experience.

"Ready?" he asks, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Down it all in one go."

I nod, steeling myself. On his count, we both throw back our shots. The burn of the Rumplemintz scorches down my throat, igniting a minty fire in my chest that spreads through my entire body. I gasp, eyes watering, but grinning. This feeling, this moment, is exactly what I've been searching for.

I look at Matteo, seeing his approving smile, and suddenly, I'm overwhelmed by the significance of this night. Here I am, Ava Rinella, sheltered Mafia princess, doing shots in a club with one of the most dangerous men I know. And I've never felt more alive.

This isn't just about the alcohol or the thrill of sneaking out. It's about taking control of my own life, even if just for one night. It's about experiencing the world on my own terms.

This night marks the beginning of something new. My first real taste of freedom, of adventure. I've crossed a line that can't be uncrossed. I've seen a glimpse of what life could be like outside my father's grasp. Instead of satiating the craving, it fuels it. This is just the start.