Page 57 of The Don’s Omega

That’s the right answer and some tension leaves my body. “If your mother behaves and falls in line, the punishment might be temporary.”

“Really?” Hope flares in his eyes.

“No promises.” I shrug. “We’ll play it by ear.” I narrow my eyes. “But if your mother even looks in Elio’s direction for the next year, the deal is off. She’s not invited to any of the Foschini functions. She disrespected my family. She’s lucky to be alive.”

“Absolutely, Marcello.”

“I’m only sparing her for you, Sandro.” Even if he suspects that’s not entirely true, he doesn’t say anything. He knows his mother deserves to die for what she tried. “I hope you appreciate that. As I said, if she were anyone else she’d already be gone.”

His eyes fill with tears. “Bless you, Marcello. I can’t thank you enough for the mercy you’ve shown my mother.” He surprises me when he moves closer and slips his arms around me, whispering heartfelt thanks in Italian.

I gingerly put my arms around him, patting his back awkwardly. Comforting people isn’t my thing, but it’s obvious Sandro is hanging on by a thread. Because of that, I allow the hug for old times’ sake.

At that moment, the door to my study opens, and Elio steps into the room. His expression instantly hardens when he sees Sandro and me hugging. Sandro is distracted and doesn’t notice Elio, but Elio’s face goes stony. He hesitates, his mouth a grim line, then he turns and leaves without a word.

Fuck.

It all happens so fast, I don’t even have a chance to say anything. I haven’t seen Elio since last night when I claimed him. Frustrated that Elio obviously got the wrong idea of what was happening between Sandro and me, I gently push Sandro away.

“You should go,” I say.

Sandro nods, wiping roughly at his eyes. “Yes. Sorry. I’m just so relieved you’re sparing my mother’s life.”

“I appreciate that you’re grateful, but keep in mind, Sandro, that if anything bad happens to Elio, even if it looks like an accident, your mother is the first person I’ll suspect,” I rumble. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.” His voice is barely audible. “We understand each other.”

“Make sure your mother understands too.”

“I will. Thank you again, Marcello.” He looks at me and I see different emotions pass over his face. Gratitude and shame and the final, quiet death of whatever he hoped we might still be. He turns and walks to the door, leaving quietly.

After he’s gone, I sit down and finish my bourbon. I should be delighted and relieved at how well I handled the situation with Valentina Lucchese. Not only has she been put in her place, but I also carved out a bigger piece of the pie for the Foschini empire. Taking the ports from them was a big move. Even if in the future I decide to give the ports back to the Luccheses, this move will prove to be very lucrative for my syndicate.

But instead of basking in the glow of my win, I feel restless. I can’t shake Elio’s wounded expression when he saw me with Sandro. He got the wrong impression, but I’m not sure why I care. I feel compelled to find him and tell him he’s got it wrong about Sandro and me. But running after an omega to explain myself isn’t my style.

Does Elio not realize all the shit I had to do today just because of the attempt on his life? Does he actually think I spent the day trying to rekindle things with Sandro? I tortured and killed a man to protect Elio, but he actually thinks my goal today was to fuck my ex? The situation is almost laughable, except I don’t feel like laughing.

I feel like running after Elio so he won’t be upset with me. And I find that impulse confusing as hell.

Chapter Eight

Elio

Thankfully, I make it to my room without running into anyone. The last thing I want is to have to explain why I’m upset. I don’t even know why I’m upset. All I know is the sight of Marcello holding Sandro in his arms has me flustered. Angry.

Jealous.

I close the bedroom door and lean against it. I remind myself that my marriage to Marcello is a contract. We’re not in love. We barely know each other. He doesn’t owe me his fidelity any more than I owe him mine. It doesn’t matter that he claimed me and knotted me last night. That was just part of our deal. It didn’t suddenly change the terms of our contract from a business deal to something more meaningful.

Do I find it rude that instead of checking on me after I could have been killed today he instead chose to rendezvous with his ex? In the same house I live in? Yes, I do find all of that disrespectful, but Marcello is an alpha who does what he wants. He never promised me he’d be anything but what he is.

I’m being overly sensitive because I don’t feel good. My entire body aches from the crash, my head is pounding, and the bite on my neck is raw and painful. The doctor Carlo took me to cleaned and bandaged the bite on my neck, but I feel the dried blood pulling at the scab every time I turn my head. I’m a mess physically and emotionally. After the claiming last night, and then the car accident, I’m bruised, scraped, and sore inside and out.

Logically, I know the claiming wasn’t personal. Even though the experience was passionate, it was a means to an end. Marcello wants an heir and that all had to happen for him to get what he wants. Unfortunately, because he claimed me, my instincts are confused. He gave me his bite, and when he knotted me, it was like his body told my body that I was his. My brain knows better, but obviously something inside me accepts it still. I can also feel the bond purring in the back of my skull, relentlessly.

I settle on the edge of the bed, pressing my palms against my eyes, trying to organize my emotions. I’m getting distracted with thoughts of Marcello and Sandro. Where Marcello puts his dick isn’t the point. I almost died today and that’s the real issue here. My priority needs to be getting something in writing to protect Fabio in case I die. Today was a wake-up call on many levels. That’s the only reason I went to Marcello’s study. I wanted to nail something down to keep Fabio safe if anything happens to me. That still needs to be my focus.

I jump when there’s a knock at my door. I sense it’s Marcello. Is that because I have his bite? My heart races as I consider not answering. I didn’t enjoy seeing Sandro and him in an embrace. The petty, wounded part of me wants to let him stand out there. But the rational part of me overrules the emotional side. I need to take care of business for Fabio’s sake, even if I’m disappointed with Marcello.