Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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By the time Lorenzo told me we were headed to another gala, I was enjoying what I considered a wonderfully successful afternoon of doing, well, absolutely nothing.

I’d spent most of it in the library, a book open in front of me, a plate of pastries beside me, and zero plans to talk to anyone until the next morning.

It had been peaceful, quiet, and blissfully uneventful; so, of course, Lorenzo had to come along and ruin it.

The soft afternoon light was streaming through the tall windows, making reading feel productive, while the powdered sugar on the pastries was the only mess I was willing to deal with.

The quiet had been so complete that even the distant tick of the clock had felt companionable rather than intrusive, and I had been fully prepared to ignore the rest of the world until at least noon the following day.

"We’re leaving at seven."

I glanced up from my book.

Lorenzo was leaning against the library doorway, dressed in a dark suit that probably cost more than everything I owned before marrying him.

The fabric hugged his frame with a quiet confidence that only high-end tailoring manages, and the way the light hit the sharp angle of his jaw made the whole interruption feel personal.

I stared at him. He stared back, completely unfazed by the fact that he’d just shattered my hard-earned solitude.

The dark material caught the light in subtle shifts every time he breathed, and the faint residual scent of him, cold, clean, expensive reached me even from across the room, a quiet reminder that my peaceful afternoon had officially ended.

"Where?"

"The Belladonna Gala."

I slowly closed my book, the soft thud of the cover hitting the pages sounding way more final than it should have.

The leather binding felt suddenly heavier in my hands, as if it too disapproved of the interruption.

"Nope."

His eyebrow shot up, that single movement conveying more judgment than most people manage with an entire speech.

I pointed at him, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite wearing loose house clothes and munching on pastries, the white powder still dusting my fingers like evidence of a crime.

The powdered sugar clung stubbornly to my skin, and I was fairly certain I had some on my cheek as well, which only made the entire confrontation feel more absurd.

"I don’t do galas."

"You’ve been to several."

"Then I don’t do galas anymore, Dracula. I went to those against my will."

"That distinction doesn’t seem to matter."

"It matters a lot to me now, considering how I got nothing from all the ones I suffered through with you."

He stepped further into the room, completely ignoring my protest and glancing at the clock on the wall.

The soft click of his shoes on the floor seemed intentional, reminding me that arguing with him rarely ended in my favor.

Each measured step brought the weight of his presence closer, and the quiet authority in the way he moved made the spacious library feel smaller by the second.

"We leave in three hours."

I stared at him, the pastry in my hand forgotten. The half-eaten pastry suddenly looked far less appealing under the force of that calm stare.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No."

At least he was honest. I let out a dramatic sigh and dropped my head back against the chair, letting the luxurious leather support the weight of my frustration.

The chair creaked softly under the shift of my weight, as if even the furniture was tired of my protests.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"Whatever."

He left, closing the door behind him with the soft finality of someone who had already won.

I stayed in the chair for another thirty seconds before I looked up at the ceiling, which offered no sympathy.

The painted molding stared back in complete indifference, and I found myself wondering whether the ceiling had ever been forced into formalwear against its will.

Three hours later, I stood in front of my mirror, wearing a suit that fit so perfectly it almost felt offensive.

The fabric was dark, elegant, and pricey enough that I was nervous about sitting down.

The cut was flattering around the shoulders and waist, meant to enhance my Omega features without making me appear delicate, and a simple silver pin rested near my collar.

Clearly, the tailor had followed instructions I never agreed to, and the end result was a version of myself that looked polished, put-together, and far too much like someone who belonged on Lorenzo’s arm.

I looked good...annoyingly good. That was exactly why I had picked it.

The mirror reflected a man who could have stepped out of one of those glossy society pages, and the sight made my stomach twist with a mixture of satisfaction and pure spite.

I smiled devilishly at the mirror.

If Lorenzo wanted his perfect husband by his side, then that’s what he was getting tonight.

Except the perfect husband was going to be a pain.

I scrutinized my reflection as I fastened my cufflinks, the cool metal clicking into place with more force than needed.

I wouldn’t smile on cue like I used to. I wouldn’t laugh politely, I wouldn’t stand next to Lorenzo like an obedient accessory while wealthy people congratulated themselves for knowing him.

I would not play nice. Most importantly, I wouldn’t make it easy for him.

Every click of the cufflinks felt like a small declaration of war, and I met my own eyes in the glass with a silent promise that the evening would not go smoothly for either of us.

For a moment, I thought about skipping my scent blocker. My hand hovered over the bottle, tempted to let my natural scent cut through the polished crowd.

Then I smirked at my reflection once again.

I applied it instead, the familiar chemical neutrality settling over my skin like armor.

I was many things, but stupid wasn’t supposed to be one of them. If I was going to sabotage the evening, I preferred to survive it.

The cool liquid dried quickly, locking everything away, and I gave myself one last critical look before turning toward the door.

The plan for tonight was simple...

All I had to do was irritate Lorenzo at the gala so much that he’d be begging me to sign the divorce papers before we even returned back to the estate.

This a was a completely fool proof plan and simple enough too!

If only I could give myself a medal for being so damn smart!

When I stepped into the foyer, Lorenzo was waiting.

His gaze traveled over me slowly, taking in every carefully chosen detail from the sharp line of my jacket to the silver pin at my throat.

He was silent for a moment. That quiet stretched out long enough that I felt his attention settle on me like a physical weight.

I resisted the urge to adjust my collar.

The intensity of those emerald eyes made the large foyer feel suddenly intimate, and the way they lingered on the silver pin before rising to meet mine sent an unwelcome flutter through my chest.

Ugh, I hated that fluttering.

"You look beautiful." Lorenzo said.

I blinked; that wasn’t part of the plan. I wondered if it was part of his to make me accept being his Omega.

But the sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, more effective than any argument could have been, and the way his eyes lingered made the compliment feel less like politeness and more like a claim.

He’d called me beautiful once or twice, but I never once believed him because I felt it was just an act.

Besides I’d been called ugly and repulsive all my life, so hearing that compliment didn’t mean much.

But hearing that now...

Heat threatened to rise in my face for some reason, and I immediately tried to crush it beneath pure irritation and looke away.

No...this was part of his plan to seduce me!

Do not fall for it, Alex! You’ll lose at this rate, fuck.. you’re so easy!

"St...stop that." I stuttered, hiding my red cheeks.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, the faintest hint of satisfaction.

This little devil...

The small curve of his lips suggested he had noticed exactly how the compliment had landed and was already filing the reaction away for later use.

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