Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I’ve never been so relieved to see a man die before.

I know, I know... that sounds awful.

Especially when the man in question was lying in a fancy mahogany coffin while half the city stood around his grave, clad in enough black to furnish a whole funeral home.

To clarify, Frederick Castelli was actually a decent guy. At least he was good to me. More kind than anyone else in my family ever bothered to be.

He remembered my birthday once when my own father didn’t. He actually asked if I was eating well when everyone else in the Castelli household mainly cared about whether I was in the right spot at dinner.

He even slipped me a book once after noticing me struggling with a battered old copy in the library. I can still picture him handing it to me in silence, like he knew that a compliment would just embarrass us both.

So, no, I wasn’t thrilled that Frederick Castelli was dead. I was just relieved that his death finally meant I could leave his son.

There’s a crucial difference there, okay?

And that’s something I plan to explain to God if I ever find myself standing before Him one day.

Yes, hello. About that first thought at the funeral...

The rain kept pouring over the Castelli family cemetery, soaking the manicured lawns and turning them into dark, shiny sheets of green.

The sky had been grey since the morning, the kind that almost seemed offended by the idea of sunlight.

Of course, it had to rain.

Because apparently, even the weather thought this funeral needed a bit more drama.

Black umbrellas dotted the cemetery like a bunch of enormous mushrooms, all clustered around the freshly dug grave. Men in sharp suits stood solemnly beneath them, their faces serious and their watches glinting with expensive taste.

Women in elegant black dresses whispered behind gloved hands. Security was everywhere, although most were pretending not to be.

They spaced themselves out, keeping an eye on the treeline rather than the priest, like they’d memorized every exit before they ever learned a single prayer.

That’s the thing about the Castelli family.

No one ever looks like they’re up to anything illegal.

They just happen to have armed men discreetly positioned at every entrance, which is quite classy, I must say.

I stood next to Lorenzo Castelli under a massive black umbrella held by one of his bodyguards, close enough to feel the chill radiating from his suit but not quite close enough to actually touch him.

That pretty much summed up our marriage, proximity without any sort of warmth.

I was dressed appropriately, of course.

Black suit, black tie, black shoes, black everything.

I looked like grief had swallowed me whole.

Lorenzo, on the other hand, looked like he owned grief.

Which, you know, he did now.

The new head of the Castelli Syndicate stood next to me, one hand resting casually at his side, his face set in a cold, unreadable expression.

Lorenzo Castelli, my husband.

The newly minted Don.

And, unfortunately, one of the most unfairly handsome men I’d ever had the misfortune to meet.

He stood tall, making everyone around him feel a little inadequate. His long whitish-blond hair was pulled back in a loose half-up style, though a few damp strands had escaped, curling around his face in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous considering the weather but somehow only added to his freaking magazine-cover, Greek god, super-model appeal.

His eyes, were a gorgeous shade of emerald green.

His face was almost angelic, which was pretty offensive given he was in charge of one of the most powerful crime organizations in the country.

If angels looked like Lorenzo Castelli, I’d have to step up my game.

Maybe.

Probably...

Meh, no promises.

He wore a perfectly fitted black suit under his coat, and somehow, the rain hadn’t managed to mess him up. Not a single hair out of place that wasn’t already styled that way. Not a wrinkle on him. The universe clearly extended him the same courtesy everyone else did.

Meanwhile, I was pretty sure one of my socks had given up. Lorenzo inherited more than just the title of Don today.

He got the Castelli fortune.

The companies, the properties, the accounts, private jets, vineyards, estate.

The entire organization his father and grandfather spent decades building.

Everything.

Frederick Castelli had left behind three sons, but it was clear from the start that Lorenzo was the one his father had chosen to carry on the legacy.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the eldest, the old Don made his decision years ago and now, that decision was set in stone.

I stole a glance at my husband, he looked completely unfazed by the gravity of it all.

But then again, Lorenzo had always been like that.

Calm, controlled, intimidating, alittle unhinged.

I let out a quiet sigh, such a fine ass face wasted on someone so emotionally distanced.

The priest kept talking, something about life, something about death, something about eternal rest...blah, blah.

I tried to focus, honestly, I did...for about thirty seconds, then my mind wandered. Because there were way more interesting things to think about.

Like Hawaii! I could go to Hawaii. With the fancy beaches and beautiful culture.

No relatives gazing at me like I was just an unwelcome speck of dog shit on an otherwise perfect bloodline.

Just me, a cheap suitcase, and enough cash to ensure no one ever told me what to do again.

Paris would be nice, too, I could rent a tiny apartment with awful plumbing and a window overlooking a street where no one knew my name.

Or Italy...though technically, that might not be the best idea since Lorenzo’s family is Italian.

Oh! The Pyramids! Maybe Egypt...i’d always wanted to see them, along with experiencing the beauty of other African countries.

Or Japan...or—anywhere!

The options felt endless, my lips tugged upward.

I had to bite my cheek to stop the smile that nearly escaped, which was probably the least suitable reaction for a grieving widower-in-law at a funeral, yet somehow the only one I had left.

One year, I’d made it through one year...one miserable, ridiculous, occasionally tolerable year.

And now, it was finally over, the old Don was dead and Lorenzo had the inheritance. That meant our agreement could finally be fulfilled.

I could leave, I could take the money that was promised to me.

I could just fucking vanish for good!

I could wake up tomorrow without being Lorenzo Castelli’s husband, the thought was so blissful it almost made me laugh.

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hello and welcome to this story of mine, readers of old and new🤗

okay, so there’s something I’d like to clarify...as youve seen in the sypnosis, this story will feature abuse, violence and since this is basically a mafia dark romance there will be other dark themes such as captivity and non con.

Although, non con Chapter occurs only once in this story. After that is dub-con as Lorenzo promises to touch Alex like that anymore unless he agrees to it.

I do not condone these actions in real life, nor am I pushing the narrative that this is what a ’healthy’ relationship looks like.

IT IS NOT.

this is straight up toxic (and honestly disgusting and sad when it happens in real life to real people)

but this is just fiction, and if you’re not into these sort of stuff or it’s triggering for you (to which you have all of my love and support ❤️)...I get it and you can check out my other books instead.

but if you’re fine with this toxic shit then knock yourself out with the story.

I’ll just shut up now...okay bye 💕

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