Chapter 166: The One Person Who Believed In The Monster

?•???°???°???•-

He didn’t respond right away.

His gaze stayed on my face, as if he were trying to figure out whether I genuinely wanted to know how he felt or was just asking out of habit.

I knew he was used to people asking if he was in control, if the guards were in place, if the organization was secure, and if he had made the necessary arrangements.

But I wondered how often anyone actually asked him how he was doing.

"Come on now, don’t leave me hanging," I said, my voice softer. "Talk to me."

Lorenzo lowered his gaze to the glass in his hand.

His thumb drifted slowly along its rim, and I noticed a slight tremble in his fingers before he gripped it tighter.

"I expected Dante to hate me," he finally confessed. "After everything that happened between us, I knew he wouldn’t have much reason to trust me. We’ve disagreed for years, and I never pretended our relationship was what it once was."

I reached for his free hand, lacing my fingers with his.

"But I never guessed he’d believe I could do something like that to Elizabeth," he continued. "Not only that, but he thought I’d orchestrate my own brother’s suffering just to secure a title. He was willing to arrange my death because he believed I had taken something from him that could never be returned."

His eyes drifted to our joined hands.

"I was there when he first met her," he said after a pause. "I remember how nervous he was. Dante had always been confident, even cocky and arrogant to Omegas, but he could barely get words out when she was around. I watched him fall for her, knowing how much she meant to him."

His voice got quieter.

"I thought losing her had taken enough from him."

The weight of those words hung heavy between us, and I felt my chest tighten.

Lorenzo wasn’t just upset that his brother accused him of murder; he was mourning the bond they used to have, and maybe even the memory of the brother Dante had been before everything went south.

He had already lost his father, his mother, his sister, and now, in a way, his older brother too.

I squeezed his hand. "I’m sorry."

He looked at me, and for a moment I thought he might say something more, something he’d held back for years.

But instead, he straightened and took a slow breath.

"But I’ll be fine. I can’t sit with this. Someone else is behind it all, and I need to find out who. Once I deal with them, everything will fall into place."

I frowned.

There it was.

The familiar Don Lorenzo Castelli, method of dealing with emotional distress: pretend feelings are just paperwork that can be filed away until the next quarter.

"Dracula."

He glanced my way.

"There’s no way you expect me to buy that." I said.

His expression softened into a small, weary smile as he touched my chin with his free hand.

"But I am also... happy."

I blinked. "Happy?"

"Yes."

"Did you bump your head when you knocked Dante out? I’m starting to worry about you."

This earned me another slight smile.

"Because you believed me," he said. "You stood by me even when it was clear most of the room didn’t know what to think. You defended me in front of everyone, fully aware of how dangerous Dante could be."

His thumb brushed my cheek. "Thank you, Alex. Thank you so much, I can’t describe how grateful I am to still have you."

I suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting. "...Uh...Meh. W–whatever."

"Whatever?"

"Yes, whatever. Don’t make it awkward."

His eyebrows rose, but I rushed on before he could speak, because apparently my ability to take sincere compliments had been left somewhere alongside my ability to drink bourbon without choking.

"Like I said, you’re a lot of things, Dracula. Controlling, ruthless, and emotionally stunted on a good day. Sometimes talking to you feels like trying to get a confession out of a brick wall, and I’ve actually considered filing a complaint about your inability to communicate like a regular human being."

"Alex."

"I’m almost done. Be patient."

He grew quiet, although I could see a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes again.

"I know what you’re capable of," I continued, keeping my voice soft. "You’re a mafia Don for crying out loud. Sure, you can be violent, and I won’t pretend you haven’t done some things I’d rather not think about. But you’re not the kind of man who would kill his own brother’s wife just to get ahead. You wouldn’t deliberately leave a little boy without his mother just to look better in front of your father."

I swallowed, recalling Dante’s face when he talked about Elizabeth.

"You know what losing your mother did to you. I’ve seen how much you still carry that pain, and I know you’d never willingly inflict that kind of hurt on someone else, especially someone meant to be family."

Lorenzo watched me, silent.

"So, yes, I believed you. I’d have to be pretty darn stupid to think you killed Emil’s mother just because Dante said so. He’s a fucking moron."

A quiet breath escaped Lorenzo, almost a laugh, but his expression remained tender.

"An exceptionally stubborn moron," I added. "With terrible manners and absolutely no appreciation for fine dining, I mean he could have waited until after we’ve eaten dessert before he pulled the guns out! Did you know the chef was going to serve a red velvet cake? Damn, I really wanted that–"

"Are you done?"

"Not entirely, but I can wrap it up tomorrow if you want. Anyways as I was saying, I saw the cake... it was like three layers with lots of buttercream and I think–"

He shook his head, and before I could come up with another point, his hand moved from my chin to my cheek.

His fingers were warm, careful, as if he was afraid I might break if he held me too tightly.

Then he leaned down and kissed me.

The kiss took me by surprise, and I quickly forgot whatever clever response I had in mind.

This one was different from the heated kisses he usually gave when he was feeling impatient or wanted to remind me that I belonged with him.

This one was slower, softer, deeper even. Filled with something that made my heart ache in an unexplainable way.

His lips moved against mine with a tenderness I rarely saw him allow, like he was pouring every unspoken word into the careful press of his mouth.

One of his hands stayed cupped against my cheek while the other settled at the back of my neck, holding me as if I were something precious rather than something he simply possessed.

I felt the tension that had been hanging around him all evening begin to ease beneath my palms as I slid my hands up to his shoulders.

He kissed me like a man who had spent the entire night drowning and had finally found air.

Like gratitude and pain and quiet, desperate relief were all tangled together in the gentle way his mouth moved against mine.

Like he needed me to know that at least one person in that room had looked at him and refused to see a monster.

I melted into it without thinking, letting him take what he needed.

The kiss lingered, unhurried and aching, until the world outside the study faded into nothing but the soft sound of our breathing and the steady warmth of his body against mine.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed for a moment as if the closeness itself was something he needed to hold onto.

Then he took my hand and pressed it flat against his chest, right over his heart.

I could feel its steady rhythm beneath my palm.

"Thank you, tesoro mio," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much."

I looked up at him, suddenly at a loss for any sarcastic remark that could ruin the moment.

Which was a shame, because sarcasm and annoying him usually was my go-to in our marriage.

Instead, I curled my fingers lightly against his chest and leaned in closer, letting him hold me as the quiet enveloped us.

We still didn’t know who was behind all the accusations, why Elizabeth had said Lorenzo’s name, or what really happened the day she died.

The investigation would carry on, and the truth...whatever it was, would eventually rise to the surface.

But in that moment, Lorenzo wasn’t the Don, and I wasn’t his troublesome omega who nearly choked and died on his bourbon.

We were just two outcasts standing together in a quiet room after a terrible night, holding onto each other while all the weight of everything else waited outside.

And maybe that was enough for now.

•

•

•

????????????’?? ??????????????????

and that’s a wrap for vol 2 ??

i think vol 3 might be the last volume then the book ends because I never really planned for this to be a long book.

but who’s to say what i’ll come up with next as I’m writing lol

what do you all think about this book so far? please leave your comments or drop a review so others will know what they’re getting into lol.

as always, I’m truly grateful for your gifts, comments and support, they encourage me big time??

please support me for November’s win-win please ????

i love you all, ok bye??