Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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"Tonight, apparently."

"You don’t have to keep hovering."

"You and I both know you’d do something stupid the second I take my eyes off you."

I grinned at him, "That’s really smart of you, Lorenzo. Although, that’ll be very stressful don’t you think? You should just divorce me to save yourself the energy."

He leaned closer to me, his height towering over my god-damned little Omegan frame.

"I see what you’re trying to do." He said smirking, "It’ll never work no matter how hard you try."

I stared at him, he looked almost amused, the faint curve of his mouth suggesting he was enjoying every second of my failed attempts to create some distance.

"Don’t be so sure, dear husband." I said glaring at him, "I’m known for being pretty insufferable, don’t underestimate me, you fucker."

I let out a humph and sipped more champagne. That was my second mistake.

My first had been marrying him.

The quiet amusement in his expression made the refusal feel less like stubbornness and more like a private game he was thoroughly enjoying.

A handsome waiter passed by carrying a tray of drinks, the crystal glasses glinting in a way that made them seem almost inviting.

I smiled at him, the waiter smiled back. I leaned toward him, lowering my voice to something softer and more deliberate than necessary.

The tilt of my head and the slight drop in my tone were calculated to provoke, and I watched for Lorenzo’s reaction with carefully hidden satisfaction.

"Those drinks look a lot more interesting than my husband." I said, "Maybe it’s because of the man carrying them, he’s si handsome."

The waiter nearly dropped the tray.

Lorenzo’s expression didn’t change, but his hand firmly settled around my waist, the heat of his palm unmistakable.

The sudden firmness of the grip pulled me a fraction closer, and the quiet strength in his fingers made the playful flirtation feel suddenly far more charged.

"Careful," he murmured, that single word low and intimate against my ear.

I looked up at him, the sudden closeness felt like it distanced me from the rest of the room.

His breath brushed the shell of my ear, and the low vibration of his voice sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the ballroom.

"Why?"

His gaze dropped to my face, lingering on my mouth for a heartbeat longer than politeness required.

The slow drag of his eyes felt deliberate, a quiet reminder that he was fully aware of exactly how close we were standing.

"You’re trying really hard tonight, tesoro."

I scoffed, even though the endearment caused an unwelcome flutter in my chest.

The soft Italian endearment wrapped around the warning and turned it into something far more dangerous than a simple reprimand.

"I’m just socializing."

"You’re flirting with the waiter."

"So what? He thinks he likes me."

Lorenzo sighed, the sound soft and almost fond. I smiled triumphantly.

This plan was working. Or so I thought.

Then he said before walking away, "Play into my jealousy once again and I’ll have no choice but to punish you, Omega."

My brain scrambled.

Punish me?!

What did the shit that mean?!

I was already sleeping in his room now, what other punishment would I serve?!

Before I could force my drunk as fuck mind to dwell on that even more... Blair showed up. Of course she did.

She’d never miss and opportunity like this to find some billionaire Alpha even if it cost her fucking life.

She stood next to my father, dressed beautifully, with a smile so polished it could have been sold separately.

Her eyes scanned over me, taking in the suit, the champagne, and then the unmistakable placement of Lorenzo’s hand around my waist.

Something tightened in her expression. The polished smile faltered for half a second before she recovered, but the brief crack was enough to confirm she had noticed exactly where Lorenzo’s hand rested.

"Hello brother" she said sweetly. "You seem... different."

"I’ve been drinking." I responded, truthfully.

"I noticed."

My father’s face hardened, the familiar lines of disapproval setting in place.

The shift in his expression was immediate, the same controlled disappointment I had spent years learning to recognize.

"Alex."

I turned to him, the champagne making my movement slightly less steady than I would have liked.

The room tilted for half a second before settling again.

Uh oh...

"Father." I said with a nod.

I hadn’t seen him since the day I got married, probably too busy enjoying and gambling away my bride price.

Never even called to ask if I was okay living in a literal mafia family.

But the second I fucked up...he magically appears.

His eyes moved to the champagne glass in my hand, the judgment in them sharp enough to cut.

The weight of that familiar gaze settled over me like an old, unwanted coat.

"You’ve embarrassed yourself enough." he said bitterly. "What are you doing?! Have you lost your mind? Do you know what everyone is saying about you right now?"

I laughed, perhaps too loudly, the sound drawing a few nearby looks.

The sharp edge of the laugh cut through the surrounding conversations just enough to make a few heads turn.

"Really? I thought I was doing wonderfully!"

Blair folded her arms, diamonds on her wrists catching the light.

The glittering stones flashed with every small movement, turning the gesture into another display of polished superiority.

"Perhaps marriage has made him lose couple of screws." she giggled, "I was wondering when the perfect persona would expire."

"You better fix that behavior of yours!" Richard snapped.

I stared at him. The alcohol softened my anger but not erased it. The familiar weight of his disappointment settled over me like a coat I never asked to wear. Blair smiled faintly.

The faint smile carried years of quiet satisfaction at watching me falter in public.

"It’s surprising Mr. Castelli still tolerates this behavior." Blair said.

That did it. I laughed again, this time sharper. The sound came out harder, less carefully controlled, and the champagne made it easier to ignore the usual caution that would have kept the words locked away.

"That’s rich coming from you." I said, "With no Alpha to tolerate yours, I’m sure you’re depressed."

Her smile vanished.

Father grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, his grip firm with the same practiced control he’d used for years.

The sudden pressure of his fingers dug in with the same familiar force that had once been enough to silence any protest.

"Enough." His voice was low, sharp...too familiar. The tone cut through the champagne haze with practiced precision.

"You will stop this immediately!"

I looked down at his hand, then back at his face.

The champagne had diluted the usual fear, replaced by something hotter and less careful.

The years of measured replies and swallowed retorts rose all at once, sharp and ready.

"Let me go." I said.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you make us look? They say I didn’t raise you right!"

There it was. Not concern. Not whether I was okay. Not if I had drunk too much. Always about the family image.

Never about my well-being.

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