Page 47 of Glitterati Omega

“You’re here!” he cried, then cringed at his own volume. “How was the flight? The ride? Did you find Moose okay, nobody gave you any trouble, did they? Charli has dinner on, are you hungry, I think—”

Winston laid a hand on his shoulder, and Rupert felt like an electric shock had run through him. He wrung his hands.

“One question at a time,” Winston said with an amused smile, and Rupert fidgeted more.

“I, um … it’s good to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Winston said, then peered up at the house. “So, this is what the one percent lives in?”

Rupert flushed hot. “You’re hardly part of the unwashed masses yourself,” he murmured, remembering that Winston had shares in Lunex.

Winston smiled, then reached over and cupped Rupert’s cheek. “How are you?”

Rupert melted into the touch. “I’m … I’m all right,” he managed, trying to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “I missed you.”

“Mm.”

Rupert’s gut twisted. “Um. Shall we go in? Moose can show you to your quarters, and then maybe you’d like to freshen up before dinner.”

“Yes,” Winston agreed instantly, pulling a face. “A fifteen-hour flight leaves one longing for a hot shower.”

“Right this way then.”

Rupert paced while Winston was shown to the north bedroom—Rupert had changed his mind again that morning; the north bedroom had more rugged views and painter’s light—and then, presumably, showered. Rupert had no idea what to do with himself, so he kept darting into the kitchen, then getting shooed out again by Charli.

Finally, Winston arrived in the dining room. Rupert had ordered the head of the table set, with one place to the right. Winston lifted a brow. “I think I could host all my relations in here,” he murmured, and Rupert giggled nervously, because he was fairly certain that was an insult.

“Do you have many relations?” he asked, aware he sounded like a complete ninny.

“Several,” Winston agreed as they sat down. Charli poured wine for the alpha, then glared at Rupert when he held out his glass.

“None for you,” she huffed when he insisted, then stalked out of the room.

He frowned. Winston lifted a brow. “Are you dieting?” he asked, and Rupert spluttered.

“No!” he cried finally, then glanced down. “Should I be?”

Winston almost spat wine across the table. “Heavens,” he muttered, “no. I was merely asking—I thought you liked wine. Some omegas …”

He paused, giving Rupert a very long, strange look. Rupert inclined his head.

“He’s having surgery tomorrow,” Charli explained as she stumped back in with a jug of water and filled Rupert’s glass with that. “Clear liquids, no solids.”

“I could have white then,” Rupert complained, and Charli rolled her eyes, her gray locks flying everywhere as she stomped back out.

Winston laughed. “I forgot about the restrictions that come along with surgery,” he said. “Will you be having dinner then?”

“Just soup,” Rupert replied, almost guiltily. “I guess I am on a bit of a diet. A very temporary one, and this one is not my own undertaking.”

“No,” Winston agreed easily.

Charli served the meal—curry for Winston, soup for Rupert. “You said you’re going to visit a sibling,” Rupert said partway through the meal.

“Ah, yes,” Winston agreed, sitting back. “My sister. She’s just had a baby.”

“Oh,” Rupert said, then stared into his soup, any appetite he’d had suddenly vanishing. He forced himself to take another spoonful. “That’s … that’s nice.”

Winston frowned and tilted his head side to side. “If one enjoys almost dying,” he muttered.