Page 114 of Glitterati Omega

Twenty-one

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carcely a week after the wedding,Morgan ordered bedrest. Rupert was allowed to get up for a few hours a day—carefully spaced apart—so he could exercise, bathe, and generally behave like a normal human being for a little bit. Otherwise, he was to be resting, either in bed or on a sofa.

Rupert didn’t exactly mind. He suspected he’d be more than sick of lying down by the end of another seven weeks, but it initially seemed like relief. Morgan had suggested prenatal yoga classes, and he’d just stared at them for a while, before he’d finally folded his hands and said, “And what, precisely, do you think I woulddoin a prenatal yoga class?”

“Uh,” Morgan said.

“Because I can tell you exactly what will happen,” he continued. “I will sit down or get myself halfway into whatever contortion they’re recommending, and I willnotbe able to get back out of it. Or I will topple over and not be able to get back up. So unless you think utterly embarrassing myself and falling down a lot is good for my health, I’d suggest no.”

Morgan grimaced. “It was just a suggestion, Roo. You should get some exercise.”

“There’s the penthouse pool,” he said at length. “It’s still warm. I’ll go for a paddle.”

“Okay,” Morgan said.

“Or perhaps a short stroll.”

Morgan nodded their head.

“But not too far, because my back hurts, my feet are permanently swollen, I can’t catch my breath, and even walking is a relative effort at this point.”

“All right,” Morgan muttered. “Point taken.”

Suffice to say Rupert did not see an issue with staying in bed at least somewhat more. He didn’t take Winston up on the suggestion of lounging around nude, although it might have been easier than finding clothes to fit around his ever-expanding middle. Even his nightgowns were a bit snug.

Still, he felt that and a light robe was probably warranted, given that everyone was now coming into the bedroom. Charli served him breakfast there and consulted about the menu for the day. Moose would help him up if he had appointments to get to. Visitors were directed into either the parlor or the bedroom, depending on where he was. And there were quite a few of them; Alina and Elise were by more often. Morgan came by—off-duty—and even Perce and Jake had dropped by for a few minutes, which had surprised Rupert to no end. He’d been embarrassed that he was still in his nightwear, but Perce just rolled his eyes and muttered, “Been there,” which was more civility than he’d ever extended to Rupert before. Before they’d left, Jake had hinted that Liz would probably drop by at some point. So, despite being bedridden, Rupert’s social life was much more active than it had been just two years prior.

There were also the lawyers and Latisha, the midwife Morgan had recommended when it became apparent Rupert needed more care and Mama Thandiwe couldn’t get away from the village any sooner. There were also the nursery decorators and design consultants; it had become increasingly clear they wouldn’t be moving to Hill Country until after the twins came. Morgan had suggested that he probably didn’t need the added stress of moving house.

So it went, until Rupert was lounging in bed one morning, going over the plans for the C-section Morgan had scheduled for him the following week—week thirty-seven. Rupert had almost lost count. Everything was beginning to meld together.

Morgan had debated the date for quite some time; technically, thirty-six weeks was fine, but they figured that if the twins could stay in utero a little longer, it would be better for them. Rupert was under heavy observation; Latisha had been in twice a day to check on him, since he was already dilated, the cerclage she’d done a few weeks back notwithstanding. Even if Mama Thandiwe and Ndileka had been able to move their trip up, Rupert was glad to have another person to call upon.

If Morgan had asked a week ago, he would have agreed to anything; he’d been that uncomfortable. He was still uncomfortable, but the last week had brought some relief on the breathing front, as the twins settled lower in his pelvis. Latisha had told him that was good; they were getting ready to be born.

He was frowning at some of the details on the plan Morgan had written up, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said, then glanced up when the visitor didn’t say anything. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

Thomas stopped short of the bed, glaring at him. “I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted.

“I live here!” Rupert spat. He jabbed a finger at his ex. “You don’t! How did you even get in here?!” He hadn’t thought Thomas even knew about the penthouse in Houston. The thought that the alpha had somehow found out about it made his stomach curdle.

“Shoddy security, obviously—the lobby staff was happy to let me up for the right price. One reason I wouldn’t want to live here. And I can see why you never told me about this place.” Thomas glanced around and grimaced. “Did you count this dump in your prenup or was that another thing you excluded? I want a reassessment before we settle on how much you owe me.”

Rupert blinked. “I owe you nothing.”

“That’snotwhat my lawyer says,” Thomas said, then tossed a bunch of papers onto the tray in front of Rupert. “You owe me half. Of everything.”

“Are you daft?” Rupert huffed, glowering at him. “Has your lawyer gone mad? I owe you nothing; the prenuptial covered everything.”

“It absolutely did not cover you inheriting anything,” Thomas sniffed. “It covered yourexistingassets, but anything you received during our marriage was not protected and, as we were still technically married when you inherited, half of it is mine!”

The alpha crinkled his nose in distaste. “If you’d been reading the emails, you’d know all that.” He looked Rupert up and down, disdain clear on his face.

Once, Rupert would have wilted under that critical look. Now, he squared his shoulders. “You aren’t even supposed to be here! There’s a restraining order—perhaps you haven’t done your reading! Now get out before I—”