Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I stood outside the study door, taking a deep breath, then another, my eyes fixed on the folder in my hand. This was the moment.

All I had to do was walk in, hand Lorenzo the divorce papers, remind him that we both agreed to this, and then walk out.

Simple, right? Almost professional like a business transaction.

I adjusted my shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and practiced my smile. The first try? Too eager. Second time? Too suspicious. The third made me look like I was trying to sell him a timeshare.

I sighed. "Just act normal, Alex."

The door stood before me, its dark wood shining in the hallway light. I knocked once, but there was silence.

That felt off...usually, Lorenzo would have told me to come in, or more likely, he’d just stay quiet, which was his usual way of communicating. I opened the door anyway.

The study not completely dark, the storm outside sent brief flashes of lightening through the tall windows, illuminating the room for just a moment before plunging it back into shadow. I paused in the doorway.

Lorenzo was at his father’s desk.

His father’s desk...technically, it was his now. A glass of whiskey sat beside him, catching the flash of lightning outside.

He wasn’t reading anything, checking his phone, or doing any of the usual things that showed he wanted to seem busy.

He was just sitting there, staring into space.

For once, he didn’t look like the menacing new Don of the Castelli Syndicate. He looked like a guy who had just buried his father.

I hesitated, my grip tightening around the folder. Alright, maybe I could be a little sensitive for five minutes. I wasn’t completely heartless.

I cleared my throat softly. "Lorenzo?"

His eyes flicked to me...those green, cold, weary eyes.

"How are you doing?" I asked softly.

There...perfect and compassionate. Almost a little too normal. I deserve a medal.

He looked at me for a moment. "Fine."

That was it, fine. I stared at him. He stared back. Apparently, that was the extent of our emotional exchange.

Don’t be surprised, it’s been like this since the day we met.

I nodded slowly. "Good." Silence. "Great." More silence. "Fantastic, actually." Nothing. I waited another three seconds. "Okay, then."

I shut the door behind me. That was enough concern; time to get down to business. I put on a bright smile, this time not bothering to tone it down.

"So," I said cheerfully, moving toward the desk, "I’ve got something for you."

Lorenzo’s gaze fell to the folder, but he didn’t say anything. I set it on the desk and, in a moment of lost dignity between the funeral and the stairs, I slid it toward him like a businessman closing a major deal. "There."

Lorenzo looked down. His eyebrow raised slightly. His mouth twitched, and I took that as a sign that he was interested what the hell I had to say now.

"Your father passed away, you’ve got the inheritance. The condition’s fulfilled, the agreement’s fulfilled. We’ve done our marital obligations."

Lorenzo met my gaze. I grinned. "So now we get divorced!"

His expression was completely unreadable. I waited, nothing. "Well?"

He reached for the folder. My heart did a little flip finally. He opened it, scanned the first page, then the second, looked up at me, and smiled. Not his usual irritating smirk, but a slower, almost amused smile.

My frown deepened. "What’s going on?"

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up the papers and tore them in half.

I stood there, staring. I could almost hear my brain short-circuiting. Lorenzo tore the papers again, and again, until the divorce agreement I’d meticulously arranged was reduced to confetti on his father’s desk. He let the scraps fall and looked at me.

I froze, completely speechless. Why...why the fuck would he do that?

"No." he said.

I blinked. "I’m sorry?"

"No."

I stared at him, bewildered.

He reached for his whiskey and took a calm, casual sip. I glanced at the shredded papers, then back at him, my mind struggling to grasp what had just happened. It was failing.

"Lorenzo." He sipped again. "You just...?"

"Hm?"

"You tore the divorce papers."

"Then why did you tear them?" I questioned trying to keep calm.

He looked almost bored. "I don’t want a divorce."

I let out a short laugh, thinking surely it was a joke. It had to be; there was no other reasonable explanation. "You don’t want a divorce."

"No."

I waited for the punchline. It didn’t come. I stared at the shredded pieces on the desk, half-expecting them to rearrange themselves into something that made more sense if I focused hard enough. Nothing happened.

"You do remember our agreement, right?"

"I remember."

"The agreement we made before we got married."

"I remember."

"The agreement where you promised that once your father died and you got your inheritance, we’d get divorced and go our separate ways."

"I remember that too."

I spread my hands. "So, we’re all set!"

Lorenzo took another drink. I kept staring at him and he stared back.

"Then what’s the fucking issue, Dracula?"

He chuckled at my nickname for him. "No issue."

I almost choked. "No issue?"

"No."

He leaned back in the chair, calm, completely calm, and utterly infuriating while I could feel my blood pressure rising.

"You said eleven months."

"I said until my father died."

"Exactly!"

"He died."

"Yes!"

"You received the inheritance."

"Yes."

"So the agreement’s complete."

"Exactly!"

"Then why are you upset?"

I shot him a look, torn between wanting to scream or applauding the sheer audacity of his logic.

"You can’t be serious!"

"I am."

"This isn’t funny."

"I never said it was."

I started pacing. It was involuntary, my body had decided standing still while being mentally tormented was no longer an option.

"We agreed on this before we got married. You said you didn’t want a real marriage. I said I didn’t want one either. Your father wanted you married, so we got married. We agreed we’d stick it out until his death, then we’d split."

Lorenzo watched me, unblinking. I pointed at the desk.

"You got everything you wanted! Why won’t you hold your end of the deal?! You got the inheritance." I yelled, "You got your father’s approval."

His expression shifted slightly, but I ignored it. "You got your nice little arrangement, and now I’m supposed to what? Stay here forever?"

"No."

I halted. "Then what?"

He stayed silent. I glared at him. "I have plans, things to do when you divorce me."

His eyebrow rose. "Plans?"

"Yes." I gestured to myself. "For my life."

He boredly took another sip of whiskey. To be honest, it was starting to feel like I was talking to a brick wall!

"Yes, Lorenzo. My life." I realized I was shouting, but I was beyond caring. "I gor places I want to go to. Things I want to do, money coming my way, we agreed on all this."

"How interesting..."

"Oh yeah? Then give me my divorce."

"No."

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