Page 111 of The Don’s Omega

My gut churns as I grapple with what Salvatore said. There’s no reason for Salvatore to lie about what he saw, and at first he seemed certain it was Marcello and Sandro he’d seen. He only changed his tune when he saw I was bothered by his words. He was trying to spare my feelings.

I sip my water, now wishing like hell it was booze. I try to think of a good reason Marcello would have lied about going to Philadelphia, but I can’t think of one. And I really can’t see any reason why Marcello would be having a secret dinner with his ex-lover Sandro. Salvatore must be wrong. Marcello wouldn’t betray me by cheating on me with Sandro. If he’d wanted to be with Sandro, he could have been from the start. There would have been no reason to drag me into this.

Salvatore finishes his conversation with Costanza and he faces me again. I feel his gaze on me, and after a few moments, he sighs. “I’ve upset you.”

I glance up, embarrassed he read me so easily. “No, I’m fine,” I lie.

His eyes soften. “Elio, I can tell you’re bothered by what I said. You shouldn’t be.”

I hold his gaze, unsure of what to say to him.

“You trust Marcello, don’t you?”

“I do,” I say quietly. “But you seemed so sure you saw him and Sandro together, and he’s supposed to be out of town. You’d have no reason to lie.”

“No, and I’m not lying. I must be mistaken. Those are two very different things.” He leans forward. “If Marcello told you he was going on a trip, then that’s what happened. You must always trust your alpha before all others, Elio.”

I grimace. “Trust isn’t always easy for me.”

He nods, his expression empathetic. “It’s not easy for me either, so I understand more than you know. But I’ve known Marcello a very long time. Since he was a boy. He held out taking an omega for a very long time. Then he met you and he gave you his bite. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t love you. Why would he?”

Naturally, Salvatore has no idea the bite was given to me as part of the marriage contract. But if I’m honest, it’s not even that I doubt that Marcello loves me. I think he does love me. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t lust after other omegas too. Unfortunately, working as a bartender, I didn’t see the best in alphas. I was hit on nightly by alphas who had omegas they loved waiting at home.

Is Marcello like that?

Is he in love with me, but still craving Sandro? Have I been fooling myself thinking I was the only one he wanted? That I could be enough for an alpha like Marcello? He made me feel special and like I was the only omega in the world for him. But what if he was just manipulating me? It’s not inconceivable. In his world, manipulation is second nature. I doubt he even thinks it’s wrong so long as he gets what he wants.

Salvatore reaches across the table and pats my hand in a fatherly gesture. “I feel terrible that I’ve upset you, Elio. Marcello seems devoted to you. You have nothing to worry about. I’m sure of it.”

I can tell he believes what he’s saying, and I find some comfort in that. But I can’t shake the paranoia his earlier words stirred up inside of me. It’s so much easier to believe I’m not enough, than it is to accept Marcello would truly love only me.

“You’re not drinking today?” Salvatore asks suddenly, eyeing my water.

“Uh, no. I’m not in the mood.” In truth, I’d have loved to drown my worries with a strong drink or two. I’m trying to be responsible about the baby.

He studies me the way a grandfather might study a grandchild he’s worried about. “You know, I raised three children of my own with my late wife, God rest her soul. Two girls and one boy.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” He sighs, but then his keen gaze returns to me. “I always knew when my wife was pregnant. Even before she’d tell me.” He hesitates. “Forgive an old man’s intuition, but is there perhaps some good news you’re keeping close?”

My face warms. “Like what?”

He glances at the others and lowers his voice. “I’m serious, Elio, I can always tell. There’s something about the way an omega’s eyes sparkle when they’re with child.”

I should deny it. I should shut him down instantly. Marcello and I agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone until we’d told our families. But Salvatore is looking at me with such gentle, expectant warmth, I feel too guilty to lie to his face.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I say under my breath. “I mean it, Salvatore. Not a soul. Marcello might be angry with me for telling you. Telling anyone.”

“But you didn’t tell me.” He smiles coyly. “I guessed.”

“Still, he might be upset if you knew. If anyone knew. We haven’t even told our families yet.”

“Is that right?” He lifts his brows. “Well, worry not. My lips are sealed, my boy.”

“Thank you,” I say, relieved.

He reaches across and squeezes my hand, and his grip is firm and warm. “Regardless of the secrecy, Marcello must be over the moon.”