Page 17 of Glitterati Omega

She sighed and relented, muttering, “Fine. Itisnice to see you out and about and doing things again. You had us all worried.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. She clasped his tightly, almost like she was scared to let him go.

“I’ll see what I can do. Any color preferences?”

“Oh … let’s go with something bright.”

,

Four hours later, he wrestled himself into enough shapewear to make a Victorian lady faint, then laced what little corsetry there was on the gown Charli had managed to procure—a gorgeous thing made of saffron-colored taffeta that would have looked miraculous on an omega with a 1950s silhouette. As it was, there wasn’t corset enough to make him wasp-waisted nor was there billowy skirt enough to give him the illusion of wide hips, but the gown had a long slit up the side, which showed off his legs, which was about all he could ask.

He’d picked a pair of blue Choos, which were a more reasonable height (three and a half inches, not five), and he’d draped his wrists in turquoise. Around his neck, he’d added a glittering bandeau of blue diamonds, all of them arranged into a floral pattern. The necklace had been in the family for generations.

Rupert had agreed to meet Winston at the venue; he’d been given an address and not much more, so he wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Moose pulled up alongside the curb near a towering, glass-walled hotel that glimmered like the rest of the Houston skyline in the late afternoon sun.

Moose lifted his brows and gave him a re-assuring smile as he opened the door, and Rupert stepped out of the vehicle, ignoring the glances that came his way as he settled his skirt. He glanced up under his lashes, furtively scanning for Winston.

He almost didn’t recognize the alpha; he looked positively divine in not the standard black tux of a white-tie event but a royal blue suit. It was pinstriped with gold, and he’d complemented with a gold waistcoat and a gold tie.

Rupert almost couldn’t believe his luck; it was like they’d planned this. He adjusted his grip on his clutch and made his way to the alpha, attempting to mimic the effortless strut of Elise’s runway models and hoping he didn’t look utterly ridiculous as he did it.

He stopped in front of the alpha, who had yet to notice him. Clearing his throat, he said, “Here I was worried that they wouldn’t letmein.”

Winston almost startled, then did a double-take. The lawyer glanced first at his face, then slowly scanned him, down to his peep-toe pumps and back up again. A slow, easy smile came over his handsome features, and Rupert wondered if someone had turned the thermostat up a few notches. He wished he had a fan. “Well,” the alpha said slowly, “I think they’d be silly not to.”

Rupert glanced away hurriedly, wishing he didn’t blush so easily. Winston offered his arm. “As for me,” he continued, “they’re used to myeccentricities.”

“Is that what this look is called?” Rupert used the retort as an excuse to give the alpha another hasty once-over. Goodheavens, the man was attractive.

Winston laughed, all his bright teeth on display, and Rupert was warm all over again. “If you’re eccentric, what am I?”

“Exquisite,” Winston said without missing a beat, guiding him toward the door.

“Ah, Mr. Ndoni,” said a short, plump omega in her early sixties, with snapping green eyes and her steely hair twisted up in a knot. She shook hands with him, then looked at his ticket. Then she paused and looked at Rupert, her brows drawing together. She pursed her red-coated lips. Then her gaze shifted back to Winston. “We are going to talk about this,” she stage-whispered, giving Rupert a sly look before breaking into a broad smile.

“Of course, Pearl,” Winston said, graced her with a smile of his own, and led Rupert into the hush of the hotel conference center hallways.

“You know her?” Rupert asked.

“Pearl is an old client. I helped her immigrate here.”

“Oh,” Rupert said, then frowned. “I thought you were in real estate.”

“Mm, yes,” Winston replied as he handed his invite to another door check—this one an usher in formal attire, who nodded and gestured them into a ballroom, which was illuminated in blue and silver. “But there are many people who need legal services and cannot afford them.”

“Oh.” Rupert felt a little silly. “So you donate your time.”

“Something like that,” the lawyer agreed. He leaned over the bar, glancing up at the menu. “What would you like?”

Rupert scanned the menu quickly. “A Manhattan is fine.”

“I thought you were a wine drinker,” Winston said dryly.

“I’m an omega of many tastes,” Rupert sniffed, then settled himself over the bar, cradling his chin in his hand. He smiled and fluttered his lashes.

“And many surprises,” the lawyer said and turned to the bartender. “A Manhattan and a Tom Collins, thank you.”

“So,” Rupert said, turning himself about so that he was leaned back against the bar, “you do a lot of charity work?”