Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I leaned back slightly, keeping my scent blocker in place while letting just another hint of my natural scent slip through...the kind of carefully measured whisper of sweetness you only risk when you’re equal parts desperate and reckless.

Nothing overwhelming... just enough to make my vulnerable Omega act more believable, the sort of soft, unintentional curl of scent that might make an Alpha’s pulse tick a little faster without him quite knowing why.

Wait a minute. Would this count as cheating on Lorenzo? With me basically flirting with another man just for information?

Fake marriage or not, I was an Alpha’s omega seducing another Alpha.

I sighed inwardly... God, the things my thirst for freedom and happiness has pushed me to do.

At this rate I was going to need a whole new moral compass, preferably one that came with a "desperate escape attempts" exemption clause.

Nikolai’s gaze flickered toward me. Interesting. I almost wanted to celebrate, but instead I lowered my eyes, letting a faint, shy smile curve my mouth, the kind of soft, uncertain expression you wear when you’re trying very hard not to look like you’re scheming. "You must know the estate well by now."

"I know my assignments."

"Which means you know the gates?"

His expression turned guarded. "Some of them."

"Oh." I feigned disappointment, tilting my head just enough that a loose strand of hair brushed my cheek. "I was just wondering because sometimes I get lost."

"You’ve been here for months, I’ve been told. How would you be lost?"

"It’s enormous." I gave a little helpless shrug, the kind of delicate gesture you hope looks charming rather than suspicious. "All those winding paths and identical hedges... I swear the gardeners rearrange them just to mess with me."

"That’s true."

"So which gate is easiest to find?"

"The main entrance."

I gave him a deadpan look. He returned it. "Very helpful."

"You asked."

"I was hoping for something a little less obvious." I let my voice drop into something softer, warmer...the kind of low, almost conspiratorial tone you use when you’re testing how far you can lean into someone’s space without setting off every alarm in their head.

His mouth twitched slightly. A sign of progress.

I supposed he wasn’t really like the other guards who were scared to death of fraternizing with a Mafia Dons Omega...And it’s consequences when said Don found out.

I smiled, the kind of slow, lingering smile you save for moments when you’re deliberately letting someone notice the shape of your mouth. "You’re not much of a talker, are you?"

"No."

"At least you’re honest." I shifted closer on the bench, close enough that the faint edge of my scent would reach him again...just a suggestion, nothing more. The kind of quiet, accidental intimacy you pretend you didn’t notice either.

He finished checking my ankle. "I don’t think it’s seriously injured."

I feigned horror, eyes widening in the most dramatic display of betrayed trust I could muster. "What?"

"You should be able to walk."

"Oh." I carefully tested my foot against the ground and then stood up, making a show of wobbling just once for effect. Nikolai watched closely as I took one step, then another. "Would you look at that!"

He frowned. "You couldn’t stand a moment ago."

"I’ve experienced a miracle." I beamed at him, the kind of bright, slightly breathless smile you deploy when you want someone to stop thinking too hard. "I’m very resilient."

His expression suggested he had a million questions but didn’t want to ask any. I continued walking beside him, matching his longer stride with the careful, slightly limping gait of someone who absolutely still needed an escort. "So, hypothetically..."

He glanced at me. "If someone wanted to leave the estate without using the main entrance, would there be another option?"

His demeanor shifted back to professional. "That information is confidential."

I sighed dramatically, letting my shoulder brush his arm for half a second—the kind of soft, fleeting contact you can always claim was accidental. "I didn’t mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"I meant..." I looked around conspiratorially, dropping my voice into something almost playful. "...if I ever wanted to sneak out for ice cream or get some things to surprise my husband with for our wedding anniversary."

He stared at me. "Without permission?"

"Obviously. If not... it’ll ruin the surprise for my dear husband."

I let the words hang, sweet and just a touch too innocent, the kind of careful lie you wrap in a ribbon of sincerity so no one looks too closely at the edges.

"That would violate security protocol."

"Everything violates security protocol here." I gave him another small smile, the kind of soft, almost teasing curve of lips you hope might loosen a locked jaw. He didn’t respond. I tried another angle, voice light. "Is the eastern service gate heavily monitored?"

His eyes narrowed. I quickly pointed at my ankle, adding a faint wince for good measure. "I mean, because that’s where I fell."

It was a weak excuse, but it somehow worked.

"The eastern gate is monitored, but the night shift is usually quieter."

I kept my face innocent, eyes wide with the kind of genuine-sounding curiosity you practice in mirrors. "R... really?!"

"The guard there takes his breaks around midnight."

My heart did a little leap. I fought hard to keep my excitement in check, though I let a flicker of grateful warmth show in my expression...the kind of soft, almost breathless look you give someone who’s just handed you the key without realizing it.

"That sounds a bit negligent."

"It is."

"How long are his breaks?"

Nikolai hesitated. "Usually twenty minutes. I’m not very sure myself."

Twenty minutes. Twenty magnificent minutes. Twenty minutes of freedom. I swallowed hard, letting my voice stay carefully light. "And the patrol?"

"Changes every hour."

"What time?"

He looked suspicious again. I quickly smiled, the kind of bright, slightly sheepish smile you use when you’re trying to look harmless and maybe a little lonely. "I get bored."

"You ask strange questions."

"I’ve been told." At least that got him close to a smile, the kind of almost-there twitch at the corner of his mouth that felt like a minor victory.

I thanked him profusely, insisted my ankle was miraculously healed, and retrieved my book with an extra flutter of lashes just for good measure. Then I headed off, making it about twenty feet before dropping my act entirely.

The second I rounded the hedge and knew he couldn’t see me, I clenched my fists. "Yes."

I had done it. I’d actually done it. I nearly kissed the nearest shrub, but instead I hurried back to the house, grinning like a madwoman.

Operation Damsel In Distress had gone off without a hitch. I had gathered information, kept my deniability intact, and managed to hold onto about ten percent of my dignity.

Totally worth it.

When I got back to my room, I was practically buzzing with adrenaline. I shut the door behind me and immediately got to work. The bag came out first.

I packed only the essentials: clothes, documents, cash, my phone charger, and a few necessities. No expensive stuff, nothing sentimental that would slow me down.

I took a good look around the room afterward. For eleven months, this had been my home... a beautiful, dangerous home, to be fair.

Expensive books on the shelves, soft carpets underfoot, clothes I could only dream of owning, and a bed so comfortable that sleeping in it felt like a luxury.

But still, being a Don’s omega was dangerous, the kind of gilded cage you start resenting the moment the door clicks shut.

My eyes drifted to the nightstand. The old countdown calendar was still there, though I hadn’t updated it since Frederick’s death.

Running my fingers over the pages, I remembered counting down to my freedom. Then the deal fell apart. But now, I was taking my freedom for myself.

I shifted my gaze to the window. Midnight, eastern service gate, twenty-minute break, hourly patrol. I could totally fucking do this. Probably. Maybe.

Sure, there was a chance I could face a horrific fate, but at this point that seemed like a recurring theme in my life rather than a solid deterrent.

I let out a sigh. "Money can be earned." I looked out the window. "Freedom can’t."

That felt a lot wiser than anything I’d said all day. I was nearly proud of myself.

Outside, the sun dipped behind the trees, casting a warm orange glow over the estate. Somewhere downstairs, servants bustled about preparing dinner. Somewhere beyond those walls, guards shifted shifts.

And somewhere far away, Lorenzo was likely at some ridiculously important meeting, completely oblivious to the fact that his temporary husband was gearing up to vanish.

I smiled to myself. "Sorry, Dracula." I zipped up my bag. "Your omega’s gotta go."

Then I glanced at the clock...midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

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