Page 33 of The Don’s Omega

I meet Carlo’s gaze. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I’m just here to give him an heir. I don’t need to understand Marcello. I doubt he’d even want me to bother trying.”

“But, you’re going to spend the next three years together.” Carlo frowns. “It would be best if you two could understand each other.”

I shrug. “It’s a waste of time. I think once I give him the heir he wants, he won’t be around me much.”

“You really think that?”

“Yes. Marcello doesn’t care about me. He cares about what I can give him. And that’s okay. That’s what I signed up for.” I meet his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about me, Carlo. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was nineteen.”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Marcello mentioned you and your brother were orphaned at a young age. That must have been very difficult.”

“Of course. But we did okay.” I grimace. “Until recently, when Fabio was diagnosed with his heart condition. But once he’s well, we’ll be okay again.”

“I respect your strength, Elio.” He looks sincere and he leans closer. “Listen, if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to, and you don’t want to go to Marcello, come to me. I’m a good listener.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re Marcello’s best friend and second-in-command. How do I know you wouldn’t just report everything I say to Marcello?”

“I guess you don’t.” He laughs. “It’s good that you’re suspicious. That’s probably the safest way to be in this world. Good instincts.” He claps me lightly on the shoulder and disappears back into the crowd.

I stare after him, wondering what in the hell that was all about. Was Carlo punking me? Pumping me for information for his pal? Or was he sincerely offering to listen? I have no idea.

My phone buzzes in my tux pocket. I almost don’t check it because I’m at my own wedding reception. Looking at my phone seems rude. But it might be Fabio or the doctor, so I tug out my cell and glance at the screen.

I feel relief and a little bump of happiness when I see it’s a text from Pete.

Hey stranger. Hope everything’s going okay with Fabio. Duffy’s isn’t the same without you. I was thinking, I know you can’t leave your brother, but maybe I could come see you in Sorrento Bay. I’m due a few vacation days and I actually miss talking to you. No pressure. I know you’re busy with your brother. It was just an idea. Let me know.

As I read the text, something warm blooms in my chest. I grin happily as I reread the message. Just to know he’s been thinking about me means a lot. Especially right now when I’m feeling so lost and alone. I really liked Pete. He was funny and smart. He was one of the few alphas who stayed engaged even after we hooked up.

So many alphas only liked the chase, but Pete had stuck around. He was a good guy with a good job too. If he’s still interested, maybe there’s a way to keep him in my life. My situation is tricky now. Complicated. Maybe too complicated to drag Pete into. But it’s a tempting thought.

I jump when Marcello suddenly returns to my side. I instinctively lower the phone to hide the text, but it’s too late. Marcello already read the message. That’s obvious from his thinned lips and the anger in his eyes.

“Who’s Pete?” he demands.

“A friend.” My voice wobbles. “From Philadelphia.”

He curls his lip. “Don’t lie to me, Elio. That guy isn’t just a friend.”

My face is hot as I hold his accusing stare. “Okay, but I didn’t text him first. He just texted me out of the blue.”

He pushes closer. “And you thought, in the middle of our wedding reception, that you’d just start texting your old boyfriends?”

“Come on, Marcello, it’s not like that—”

“We’re supposed to be showing our guests how into each other we are, not texting old lovers.”

I grimace. “I’m telling you that isn’t what happened—”

“How about you wait to text him until after we’re done here?” he snaps. “If that’s not too much to ask? At least wait until after we cut the fucking cake.” He turns and walks away toward the bar, shaking his head.

“What the hell is he so worked up about?” I mutter, tucking my phone away. I feel guilty, even though I did nothing wrong. Marcello was the one who said we could have lovers on the side. Why’s he so bent out of shape just because I got a text?

Marcello is now standing near the bar with an omega I haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s tall for an omega, dark-haired, olive-skinned, with the kind of face that belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine. Everything about him is sophisticated, from his tailored suit to his cufflinks to the way he holds his glass of wine. He’s as comfortable as Marcello is in this room of mobsters.

Something ugly slithers through me when I notice the strange omega is touching Marcello every chance he gets. It’s little things like a hand on Marcello’s forearm as he leans in to say something. A brush of fingers against Marcello’s wrist as he laughs at something Marcello says. Small, familiar gestures that speak of history. Of intimacy. Of a comfort level that comes from long acquaintance.

Inexplicably, my gut begins to churn. Those two definitely have a past. And the way Marcello is allowing that omega to touch him is doubly pissing me off after the lecture I just got from him. He was two seconds from slapping a scarlet A on my chest, and yet he’s making no effort to stop that omega from flirting with him. In fact, he’s leaning into it, tilting his head toward the other omega, smiling at whatever he’s saying. His body language is open and warm in a way it hasn’t been with me since I met him.