Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘❦✾❦∘∙⊱⋅•-

By the time we got to the bookstore, I had come to terms with two things.

First, there was no escaping today.

Second, Lorenzo Castelli seemed to think that buying horror novels required the same security detail as moving nuclear weapons.

The convoy rolled up to the bookstore in perfect formation, and for a moment, I sat in the back of the SUV, gazing through the tinted windows at the warm lights spilling onto the pavement.

It looked like an ordinary bookstore.

That was the frustrating part.

There were couples strolling through the entrance, students with tote bags, an elderly woman near the window sipping from a paper cup, and a man struggling to manage two kids while balancing an armful of books.

Just normal people.

People who could walk into a bookstore without needing seventeen cars and a small army to back them up.

I sighed.

”Well,” I muttered to myself, ”at least I’m still outside getting books.”

The car door opened and one of the guards stepped aside, I got out then instantly, three men surrounded me.

I glanced at them, they looked back at me. I looked at the bookstore then back at them. ”Are you all coming in too?”

One of them nodded. ”Yes, sir.”

I shut my eyes for a moment. ”Of course you are.”

Arguing was pointless now.

The whole situation from that morning still weighed heavily on my mind, and even with all my grumbling, I couldn’t put someone else in danger just to satisfy my cravings for freedom.

I’d been desperate before, I still was.

But I refused to be cruel and that was one thing I wouldn’t become. So I walked inside with them.

The warmth enveloped me right away.

The bookstore smelled like paper, coffee, polished wood, with that hint of dust every good bookstore seems to have, as if the shelves had been quietly collecting stories for decades.

Soft yellow lights hung from above, illuminating neatly arranged rows of books along the walls, while a soft instrumental tune played somewhere near the front through hidden speakers.

For the first time all day, my shoulders relaxed and I made my way to the horror section.

Lorenzo’s men followed and they looked freaking ridiculous, I felt ridiculous too.

One of the men stood by a shelf, arms folded, watching me as I flipped through a paperback about a haunted house, like the book might spring to life.

I held it up. ”He’s judging me.”

The guard blinked. ”Who?”

”The guy on the cover.”

He glanced at the book. ”I...I don’t think he can see you, sir.”

”You don’t know that.”

He seemed unsure how to respond.

I smiled slightly. ”Never mind.”

I kept browsing and despite everything, I was actually having fun.

That was the annoying part.

I’d spent the whole drive bracing myself to be miserable, and now I was standing between shelves, a hardcover in my hands, reading the back and remembering why I loved books in the first place.

There’s something comforting about choosing your own story.

Just me and a book, well...me, a book, and about six men keeping an eye on my every move.

But still.

I picked up another and then another.

I ended up with several novels piled under my arm, and eventually stumbled upon a limited edition hardcover that was way more expensive than anyone should spend on a horror novel.

I gaped at the price then I grinned, the black card was in my pocket.

I grabbed it.

”Well,” I murmured, ”if I’m going to be stuck in luxury, might as well enjoy the perks.”

I tossed two more special editions into my stack.

By the time I reached the counter, the cashier looked a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of books.

She glanced past me at the guards, then back at me. ”Are you... with them?”

I looked over my shoulder and sighed, ”Unfortunately.”

One of the guards cleared his throat and I shot him a look. ”What?”

The cashier offered a nervous smile,.I paid with Lorenzo’s card and headed back outside with my books.

The whole outing felt almost painfully ordinary.

I’d just bought my books.

Maybe because I had finally accepted that tonight wasn’t the night.

Maybe because I was exhausted.

Or maybe because somewhere along the way, I started to realize that escaping wasn’t just about finding a way out.

It was about finding a place I could actually settle.

And I still didn’t know where that was.

By the time we left the bookstore, night had blanketed the city.

I climbed back into the SUV, the bag of books resting beside me, while I watched the guards load everything into the vehicle despite me telling them I could do it on my own.

The convoy moved on.

City lights streaked past the tinted windows, glowing white, yellow, and red as we navigated through traffic.

I leaned back against the seat and let out a long breath, for once, I wasn’t fixated on escaping.

I was thinking about Lorenzo instead... and yeah, that was somehow even worse.

How exactly had he fallen for me and realized he didn’t want our marriage to be temporary anymore?

How had he done it? How the actual hell had he spent all those months beside me without showing anything?

My mind drifted back through memories I’d tried so hard to forget.

The dinners, the public appearances, the endless pretense, Frederick had always loved seeing us together.

He had wanted our marriage to look perfect, and so Lorenzo and I became like professional actors.

We held hands and smiled, leaned into each other.

Sometimes Frederick joked about what married couples supposedly did behind closed doors, and Lorenzo would keep that composed look while I struggled not to laugh or die of embarrassment.

There were nights when we had to make enough noise to convince the staff that we were actually sharing a bedroom.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo and I would sit on opposite sides of the room. Sometimes I’d read, sometimes he’d work.

And we’d make ridiculous noises every few minutes just to maintain the illusion. I remembered one night when patience had finally worn thin.

”You know,” I whispered, ”for a man who terrifies half the city, you’re remarkably bad at pretending to enjoy yourself.”

Lorenzo had looked at me.n”I am enjoying myself.”

”You look like you’re negotiating a hostage release.”

His jaw had tightened. ”You’re very talkative.”

”Meh, you should have known when you married me.”

He had rolled his eyes, back then, I thought it was funny. Now I wondered if he’d secretly enjoyed those moments too.

I wondered if amidst all that pretending, something real had started to bloom.