Stolen Queen (Dynasty of Deception #4)

21. Ava

21

AVA

I sit on the edge of the bed, turning Matteo's words over in my mind. It would gut me if something happened to you . The raw emotion in his voice caught me off guard. I want to believe him, but can I trust anything he says?

Part of me thrills at the idea that this dangerous, powerful man seems to care about me, wants me to stay. Am I being naive? I've lived such a sheltered life. Maybe I'm falling for the first guy to show me any real attention. Matteo's reputation precedes him. He's known for being ruthless, manipulative. What if this is all part of some larger game?

I fidget with the new phone he gave me. If Matteo wants to manipulate me, why give me this? I could use it against him in so many ways. I could call my father and reveal where I am. I could contact Elio because there’s something about the way Matteo acts that makes me think Elio doesn’t know that Matteo has taken me. Hell, I can dial 911 and bring the cops down on him.

My finger hovers over the power button. The possibilities swirl in my mind. With one call, I could end this strange captivity and return to my old life.

But do I want to?

I think about my father's controlling grip, the loveless marriage that awaits me in New York. Then I recall Matteo's tender touches, the way he made me feel alive for the first time.

My hand trembles slightly as I set the phone down on the nightstand. The fact that Matteo trusts me with this device speaks volumes. He's given me power, the very thing my father always denied me.

I can feel my attitude shifting toward the positive, but I know I shouldn’t. Even with this grand gesture, I don’t know if I can trust him. But I really want to. I really want to believe he cares for me, that’s he’s doing all this to protect me and… because he wants me. That the way he touched me means something.

I groan in frustration, flopping back on the bed. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly charming? So attentive one moment, then cold the next? I want to hate him for keeping me here, but then he goes and does something unexpectedly sweet.

I'm acutely aware of how precarious my situation remains. My father is out there still looking for me. Matteo isn’t wrong that for me to truly be free, I have to give up being Ava Rinella and leave Chicago. To do that, I need a foolproof plan. Until I have that, I have no real choice but to stay. It's safer here with Matteo than out there alone, which is why I didn’t leave five days ago after Matteo went off on me and threatened to lock me up again.

I leave the confines of my room. I find Matteo by the window, his broad shoulders tense as he stares out at the city below. The amber liquid in the glass he's holding catches the light, and I wonder how many he's had.

I clear my throat.

He turns, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine. For a split second, I see a vulnerability there that takes my breath away. But it's gone in an instant, replaced by his usual guarded expression.

"I… I appreciate what you're trying to do here. But I'm still not sure I can trust you."

He nods slowly. "I understand. Trust takes time." His calm acceptance throws me off balance. I expected anger, not this quiet resignation. If that’s the case, why was he so pissed before?

"The other day… when you came home and I wasn’t here… you were so angry. Why?"

Matteo's gaze sharpens. "Why didn't you leave then when you had the chance?"

I wasn’t expecting that question. Why didn't I leave? The answer terrifies me. “I didn’t want to leave… then.” I add the ‘then’ to let him know that the feelings I had then aren’t what I feel now. “I like being with you when you’re not an asshole.”

His lips twitch upward slightly.

“Despite what you think, I do understand the danger. I get that I have nowhere to go and no resources to get there. I am at your mercy.”

He looks pained at my last statement. “You don’t owe me?—”

“The point is, I understand my situation better than anyone. That’s why I stayed then.”

“And now?” Matteo asks.

I shrug. “Like I said, I don’t know if I can believe you. For now, I want to stay, but I want the option to leave with a new identity.”

He nods, but I can see he doesn’t like it. “Fair enough.” He finishes his drink. “Are you hungry?”

I nod.

For the first time in nearly a week, I have dinner with him. We converse, but it’s stilted. The chasm between us is still wide.

After dinner, he asks if I want to watch a movie with him. Feeling sick of being in my room all the time, I agree.

I settle onto the couch next to Matteo and watch as the opening credits of The Godfather roll.

Matteo grins at me. "Ready for a crash course in Mob life, Princess?"

I roll my eyes but still smile back. "Please. I practically grew up on this movie."

"Oh, yeah?" He raises an eyebrow. "Favorite quote then. Go."

"'Leave the gun, take the cannoli’," I shoot back without hesitation.

Matteo laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes my heart skip even as I try to guard against his charm. "Not bad.”

As the movie plays, we banter back and forth, often discussing the parts of the movie that could be true and those that seem far-fetched. Matteo shares a few stories of life imitating art in his own Mob experience.

“Don Corleone’s kids aren’t full Italian,” I say. “Don’t they have to be full Italian to be made in the Mafia?”

“First, Michael’s son became an opera singer. And today, half-Italian is okay. The movie took a few liberties. Tom Hagen, the consiglieri, isn’t Italian at all.”

I watch a little bit more, curious as to why Matteo would even like the movie. “This is your life. Why watch a movie?”

“It’s fun to see how Hollywood depicts it.”

I think about that, and it brings my mood down.

“Hey? You okay?” He bumps my shoulder with his. I’m surprised that he noticed the change in me.

“This is a movie for men. Do you pay attention to Connie’s life?” She's abused by her husband, and while her family doesn't like it, they don't really do anything about it. Eventually, her brother beats the crap out of him, but then she unwittingly helps her husband kill her brother.

His jaw tightens. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

I look at him. Really look at him. And I believe him. I have an urge to kiss him, but luckily, I’m strong enough to resist it. But I do rest my head on his shoulder.

The next few days go much better than those before them. I wake up each morning to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of Matteo moving around the kitchen. It's become a comforting routine. As I pad out to join him, I'm struck by how different this feels from my life before with my family. There’s no tension or conflict. In fact, there’s usually banter and laughter.

While Matteo's at work, I spend hours experimenting with recipes in the kitchen or working on my jewelry designs. There's a freedom in these simple activities that I never had under my father's watchful eye, even though I’m confined to the penthouse. I catch myself smiling more often, laughing at silly things.

Oh, sure, the days alone can get long. I’m often bored, but even boredom feels like a luxury. Before, my life was filled with expectations and tension. I’ll take boredom over that any day.

As the days go on, my walls start to crumble. I look forward to my evenings with Matteo, curled up on the couch watching movies. We've fallen into a comfortable rhythm, trading quips and inside jokes as we work our way through classic films. Last night, as we watched Casablanca , I caught myself staring at Matteo's profile more than the screen. It's becoming harder to ignore my growing attraction and hold on to my doubt. Am I just latching onto Matteo because he's my only connection right now? Can I truly trust him, or am I setting myself up for heartbreak?

Two nights ago, when the movie finished, I leaned in and kissed him. Not a long or passionate kiss. He seemed surprised, and yet his smile suggested he was pleased. Not wanting to give in to my urges any more, I told him goodnight and rushed to bed.

It happened again last night. Movie ended. I looked at Matteo, and my heart swelled. I kissed him and then rushed off to bed, where I lay awake trying to sort out my feelings. The comfort I feel in Matteo's presence is both thrilling and terrifying. I want him, but can I trust him?

Tonight, I choose the movie, a romcom. I nestle next to Matteo on the couch as the on screen couple shares their meet cute, and hilarious antics ensue. When they tumble into bed, there’s a sweetness to the sensuality that stirs longing inside me.

Glancing over at Matteo, I catch him watching me instead of the movie. His blue eyes are intense. My breath hitches as I realize how close we are, how easy it would be to close the gap between us.

Before I can second-guess myself, I shift, straddling his lap and cupping his face with my hands. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t push me away. I lean in and press my lips to his.

The kiss is soft at first, hesitant. But as Matteo's hands loosely sit on my hips, pulling me closer, it deepens into something more. I pour all my confused feelings into that kiss, my gratitude, my fear, and the growing affection I can’t deny any longer.

I rock against him, feeling him thick and hard. Need like I’ve never felt before rushes through me.

"I… I think I'm ready. For more."

His jaw tightens. I see hesitation in his eyes. “Ava, that’s a big… you don't understand what you're asking. Once we cross this line?—"

I cut him off with another kiss. When I pull back, I look him straight in the eyes. “I want this.”

“Maybe you should wait?—”

“For what?” Suddenly, I’m filled with doubt. Does he not want me? Is he trying to let me down gently?

“For someone special.”

“If this goes badly, my first time will be Don Cardone.”

Matteo’s eyes darken. “I won’t let that happen.”

“You can start by showing me.”

His teeth grind together. “I want to, Ava. You feel that I do, but your virginity is?—”

“Is mine to give. It’s not a commodity as my father thinks. It’s mine. I’m offering it to you. If you don’t want it, just say so.” I move to get off him, but his arms wrap around me, holding me tight. With a low growl, he stands, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist, my heart pounding with anticipation. Oh, my God… I’m doing this.

Without another word, he carries me to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us. He sets me down next to the bed, his hands holding my face.

“You need to be sure about this, Ava. There’s no un-ringing this bell once it’s done.”

“I’m sure.” I’m so sure I’m about to rip his clothes off and take charge.

His expression is torn. “I’ll try not to hurt you. I’ll try to be gentle, but?—”

“For God’s sake, Matteo, stop talking and start touching me.”

His brows rise in surprise. Then he smiles. “Well, alright, then.” He kisses me, harder, darker than before. His hands roam my body, undressing me. I arch into his touch, whimpering with need.

He slides my panties off, tossing them aside, followed by my bra. He very unceremoniously pushes me back until I fall on the bed. With a smirk on his face, he undresses. I watch, completely rapt, as his body is revealed. I’m desperate to touch him.

He stalks to me, climbing on the bed and over me. He starts to open his mouth, but I press my fingers over his lips. “Stop asking if I’m sure.”

He nips at my fingers. “Get ready to be thoroughly fucked, Ava.”

His words send a firestorm through me. His hands trace a path down my body, making me shiver. He leans over, licking my nipple and then sucking it into his mouth.

“Yes,” I say on a gasp as I hold his head to me. My body is on fire, pleasure filling it from head to toe.

He moves lower and lower, but I reach out to stop him. “I don’t want that.”

His gaze looks up at me. “You don’t like it?”

“I do like it, but I want… you know.”

He smirks. “I know what?”

I give him a look. “You know.”

He shakes his head. “If you can’t say it, you can’t have it.”

I let out a little growl. “Your dick.”

“You will, Princess. But your first time, you need to be ready. Really ready.”

“But what if I come?”

He laughs, and it annoys me because it's like he's mocking my innocence. “I’ll make you come again. And again. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

I doubt it, but okay.

His tongue flicks against me and immediately, my body shudders from the flood of pleasure.

“So wet and delicious,” he murmurs as his tongue plays with my clit. He slips a finger inside me and groans. “My cock can’t wait to get into your tight pussy.”

If spontaneous combustion is a real thing, I’m about to experience it. His finger strokes inside me while his lips suck and lick my folds. I’m a whimpering mess when everything inside me implodes and then explodes. My body bucks wildly as my orgasm rushes through me like a tsunami.

“Fuck yeah,” he growls. He reaches to the bedside table and pulls out a condom. Like a man with a lot of experience, he opens it and rolls it on.

He positions himself over me. “Open up, Ava.” He pushes my thighs open and up. Then he thrusts against me… in me.

My breath stalls as a pinch of pain and immense pressure overwhelm me. I cry out and grip his arms as he levers over me. He feels entirely too big.

“Breathe, Princess. Relax.” There’s no missing the strain in his voice as he stills, seeped inside me. I do as he says, taking a long breath and with my exhale, letting my muscles ease.

“That’s it,” he says, leaning down and flicking his tongue over my nipple. I feel it straight to my center, which squeezes around him.

“Ah, fuck… so tight.” He rocks against me. His movements are barely perceptible, yet they send waves of pleasure rippling through my body. He kisses my neck, nuzzling against my skin with tenderness. Every touch sends tingles through me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

As helpless moans escape my lips, he pulls back just far enough to meet my gaze. “Do you feel me?”

That’s a dumb question, but as I look into his eyes, I realize he’s asking me to focus on the sensations. When I do, I feel him pulsing inside me.

“Feel me in your tight pussy.”

I nod.

He moves again, this time sliding out a bit and then back in. The sensation is both intense and overwhelming. I'm filled with an indescribable pleasure that is quickly numbing the pain and discomfort.

“I want to fuck you so bad… so hard… I want to hear you scream my name.” His words send a new wave of erotic sensation through me.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “You’re going to make me come too soon.”

He moves again, this time a little more, a little faster. The pressure inside me builds, raw, primal, urgent. I arch my back, pushing my body closer to his. With each thrust, the pain fades further away, replaced by a white-hot need that consumes me in its ferocity.

"You like that, Ava?" he growls, raw desire filling his voice. "Do you want me to make you come on my cock?"

“Yes… yes… yes…”

He’s right. The sensations are a delicious torture. I want it to last and yet I also feel like I might die, it’s so intense.

Matteo lifts my hips off the bed and plunges deeper inside me. Each time he thrusts, he hits a spot inside me that has stars bursting behind my eyes. My cries grow louder, more desperate, and I cling to him.

"Come for me, Ava," he demands. "Come on my cock and show me how much you want this."

It's the last straw. I shatter, crying out as my body shakes violently through my orgasm. Pleasure blasts through me as my pussy pulses around him. In that moment, emotion sweeps through me. I’ve never felt so alive, so strong in my femininity. I know without a doubt that I want it to last. Not just this moment, but my relationship with Matteo.

It’s a hopeless dream. I understand that our only hope to get what we want, my freedom and his avoiding my father’s revenge, is for me to eventually leave.

I hold on to him, savoring the moment, so grateful to Matteo for giving me this one experience before my heart is broken.