Page 15 of Glitterati Omega

“Perhaps a supper, even,” Winston replied, and Rupert let his eyes flutter shut.

“Mm, all right. And what might be on the menu?”

“That depends” was his answer, and Rupert gave his screen some side eye. Was the alpha hitting on him, or was he imagining things? “I believe there’s ossobuco or a chicken parmigiana.”

“What if I’m vegetarian?”

“That would be a shame,” Winston said, “although they might be able to accommodate.”

Rupert sighed. “So last minute?” he asked as he toppled himself back onto his mattress. “Is there a dress code?”

“White tie.”

“Ah, see,” Rupert grumbled, rolling onto his stomach, “that’s a problem too—coming up with something to wear.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“You have an awful lot of confidence. I’m not precisely an off-the-rack sort of omega.”

“No,” Winston agreed, and Rupert flushed, frowning. He hadn’t expected the easy tone in the lawyer’s voice, how quickly he’d confirmed the insult. A flash of doubt surged through him, settled in his stomach. He knew for fact he wasn’t every alpha’s cup of tea—far from it. He didn’t have the curves more feminine omegas had, and he didn’t fit the androgynous look the runways pushed either. He was too tall, too broad through the shoulders, entirely toomasculine.

“I wouldn’t expect you to wear what everyone else is wearing,” Winston continued. “You seem more like a one-of-a-kind omega.”

“Oh,” Rupert said, fanning himself as his cheeks got warmer. He wasn’t imagining it, was he? Winston was definitely hitting on him. “Well. Um. I’ll see what I can do, but don’t blame me if I can’t manage more than a potato sack on such short notice.”

Winston laughed, full-bodied and rich, and it left Rupert tingling, precisely like the very best wines. “I expect you’d make that look good too,” he chuckled, and Rupert twisted around again, squirming because he was suddenly too, too warm, like the alpha had lit him on fire.

“If we aren’t admitted on account of dress code …”

“Then we’ll find somewhere else to go. There are plenty of wine bars around. We’ll find you a drink.”

“All right then,” Rupert said, ducking his head, kicking his heels against the side of the bed. He paused. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. And ... thank you for calling.”

“It is no trouble at all.”

Rupert wondered if the lawyer had any idea how hearing that made him feel. Probably not. “Were you long at the party? Oh, how was the food? I am sorry I didn’t stay—Alina’s brilliant, I’m sure everything was delectable—”

A light laugh. “I can tell you about it tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose you can.”

“It is rather late.”

“I hope I’m not keeping you. You must have been there a while.”

“Not so long, no. But I suspect I am keeping you up.”

“I tend to be up late anyway.”

“Still. It is very late.”

Rupert glanced around for a clock. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps I will let you go then.”

Thing was, Rupert didn’twanthim to hang up. Yes, he had a giddy little crush forming, but it was also nice to talk to someone, to be distracted from his own thoughts, and Winston had a soothing voice. “I suppose that would be for the best.”

A moment of silence hung between them. Rupert huffed a short breath. “Well. I suppose I’ll hang up then.”

“I think that would be good.”

“Good. I’ll ... say good night, then.”

“Good night, Rupert.”

OhGod, he was going to fall apart; his name sounded utterly sinful, divine, and he wanted to make the alpha say it over and over again, until he was dizzy with the sound of the syllables.

Instead, he whispered, “Good night,” then hung up and pitched the phone across the room, burying his face in his pillows to muffle a scream.