Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I stopped pacing and let my arms hang down. "You really only know one word, don’t you?"

A slight smile crossed his face. "I know several."

"Could’ve fooled me."

I turned to the desk, and the scraps of paper felt like they were staring back at me, haunting little reminders of my future, shredded by a guy who seemed to think "no" was more of a suggestion than a firm rejection. My chest tightened, and for a split second, I forgot how to be sarcastic, a true personal crisis.

I’d been waiting for this moment for eleven months. Eleven long months waking up next to a guy I hardly knew, memorizing the side of the bed he didn’t touch so I could dodge it like it was toxic. Eleven months of pretending, smiling through dinners I didn’t even want to go to and laughing at jokes that fell flat.

Eleven months of playing the role of Lorenzo Castelli’s perfect omega husband while silently counting down the days until I could get out, ticking them off in my mind like a prisoner marking time.

And now, that day was finally here. But Lorenzo apparently thought he could rewrite the rules...he was the kind of guy who signs a contract and then decides halfway through that it’s more like a guideline.

I spun around. "You can’t do this! You backstabbing, lying psycho!"

Lorenzo stood up, and just like that, my words abandoned me, the traitors. He walked around the desk slowly, like he had all the time in the world and I was just an appointment he intended to attend. I froze because apparently, my legs decided to take a leave of absence along with my voice.

Something about his approach felt different tonight, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Usually, his mere presence was enough to intimidate...he just existed, and everyone else adjusted, like a room rearranging itself around a massive piece of furniture that you just don’t touch. But tonight, there was something targeted in his demeanor, directed right at me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

He stopped right in front of me. I tilted my head back slightly to meet his gaze, determined not to be the first one to look away, even as my heart raced in a way that felt downright embarrassing. "I thought you were a man of your word."

"I thought so too," he murmured, a hint of regret in his tone, as if he was surprising even himself.

That caught me off guard. "What?"

He stepped closer. I found myself instinctively backing up.. just survival instinct, nothing more, I told myself, while he didn’t budge an inch. Another step, and I was against the wall. I froze, trapped between six feet of mafia don and sheer will.

Lorenzo leaned one hand against the wall beside my head, the other on my waist, and suddenly the room felt so small, as if it was only the space between us that mattered. I lost my breath for a moment. I momentarily forgot how walls worked. How to breathe. How to speak...

I had known this man for eleven months. We’d shared meals, a home, and even a bed a few times when we had to fake it for his father, always maintaining a careful distance, like two people stuck on a raft who’d agreed not to acknowledge how cramped it was.

But he had never touched me like this before. Not once, not even a casual brush of hands reaching for the same salt shaker.

What on earth was happening?!

Was he drunk or something? He didn’t look drunk... His eyes were too focused, like I was the only thing worth his attention.

His grip tightened slightly on my waist. I looked up, wide-eyed, probably resembling a deer caught in headlights.

"W...what are you doing?!"

His gaze flicked to my mouth, and my stomach knotted, which was a strange sensation. Very strange. And downright inconvenient since I was supposed to be furious with him, not cataloging the exact shade of his eyes up close.

Maybe he was drunk after all...

"Lorenzo," I started nervously.

"Hm?"

"You’re standing really close," I said, emphasizing, "like, really close."

"I know."

"Why?"

A hint of amusement danced across his face, like I’d just asked why the sky was blue.

He moved even closer. I should have pushed him away or said something clever, anything to break the tension and remind him and myself, that I was still mad.

Instead, I just stood there staring, my brain completely derailed. His face was mere inches from mine. I could smell whiskey mixed with something warm...his scent, the one I’d been ignoring for eleven months just out of sheer stubbornness. But now, I couldn’t look away, couldn’t pretend it didn’t affect me.

His eyes locked onto mine for what felt like an eternity. Then he kissed me.

Everything in my mind went blank. It was quick and decisive, not gentle at all, just a clear declaration that I was meant to be right there, and my opinion didn’t even matter.

When he pulled back, I was frozen. My mind was a total void...no sarcasm, no escape plan, no witty comeback. Just blankness where my thoughts used to be.

Over his shoulder, I caught sight of the scattered pieces of my divorce papers on his father’s desk, proof that I had just watched my whole plan fall apart, piece by piece.

Lorenzo looked at me with that annoyingly calm smile. "What’s wrong?"

I stared at him, speechless. His thumb brushed against my waist softly. "Why do you still want a divorce?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out...an unprecedented event.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "And here I thought we were happily married."

My jaw nearly dropped. Happily? Married? We had spent eleven months barely touching each other. We had slept in separate rooms for crying out loud...what the hell?!

We’d perfected the art of acting like strangers whenever we weren’t putting on a show for someone else, down to a level neither of us had ever discussed but both had gotten good at. And here he was, blocking my escape, grinning like he’d just heard the best joke ever, with me as the punchline.

I glanced from him to the papers and back again. For the first time in eleven months, I had absolutely no idea what Lorenzo Castelli really wanted.

And for some reason, that terrified me even more than the whole divorce thing.

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