Page 7 of Glitterati Omega

Two

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’Atelier wren certainly looked likeawedding venue when Rupert returned in the early evening. The whole restaurant was aglow with the subtle hint of fairy lights and decorated with a gauzy gold banner. Two swan-shaped shrubs had been placed outside the doors, golden ribbons twisting up their trunks, and a swath of balloons hung over the doorway, creating an arch.

Rupert glanced at Moose, his chauffeur, just before he exited the limo. Moose lifted his thick, dark brows and nodded once.

Rupert nodded back, then stepped out of the car, fussing with the hemline of the ruffled, red Valentino dress Elise had insisted was appropriate attire. He felt less sure of that assertion as he glanced around; a couple of partygoers milling outside the venue glanced at him, brows lifted, before they went back to their cigarettes.

He stood there uncertainly for a second, tugging his hemline down toward his knees, as Moose drove off, the only sound the slight whoosh of air as the electric vehicle breezed down the circular drive.

“Hey!” Morgan called, and he sighed with relief—rescued from his own awkwardness. He hurried toward them as quickly as his five-inch Louboutins would allow. “Thanks for this,” the alpha said as he approached.

“Anything for you, darling,” he replied, tossing his head so the blue diamond earrings he was wearing shimmered. He ran a hand up the alpha’s bare arm, and Morgan laughed.

“Knock it off,” they said, and Rupert fluttered his lashes.

“Oh, but you have to know you’re special—I wouldn’t cancel a transatlantic flight last minute for just anyone.”

Morgan shook their head, their dark curls tumbling over their shoulder, then paused, glancing him up and down.

Rupert quirked a brow. “Like what you see?”

Morgan snorted. “Always,” they said. “You always look like you walked off a runway, Roo.”

Rupert decided to ignore the fact thatplumwas decidedly not a summer color and lace dresses were very much last season. Morgan had never had any fashion sense at all, as far as he was concerned. “You look marvelous too,” he said, before he laid eyes on those worn Doc Martens on the alpha’s feet. He frowned.

“Seriously,” Morgan continued as they linked arms and walked across the sidewalk, Rupert pointedly ignoring the eyes that followed them. He refused to acknowledge how much taller he was than Morgan in these heels. “What’s not to like? Tall blond with legs for miles?”

“Oh, hush,” Rupert said, although he didn’t mind hearing the praise at all. “I thought Winston said your papa wasn’t going to be here.” He gave the alpha a pointed look.

Morgan frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nobody holding a gun to your head, trying to get you to woo me.”

Morgan’s brows jumped. “Oh,” they fumbled. “Papa doesn’t—he would never—”

“Trust me,” Rupert muttered. “He’s definitelytried.”

“Oh my God,” Morgan said. “Roo, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” Rupert said, fluttering his lashes. “It’s good fun screwing with his head.”

Morgan rolled their eyes. “Seriously,” they muttered, then paused as the door swung open.

“Ah,” Winston said, gaze landing on Morgan, “there you are.”

Morgan’s brows knitted. “There a problem?”

The other alpha tilted his head side to side. “A certain someone might be pitching a fit about seating arrangements.”

Rupert lifted a brow. “Any capable wedding planner would have had that worked out,” he asserted, drawing Winston’s dark gaze to him.

“You were a last-minute add,” Morgan said with a bit of a grimace. “Guess I better go unruffle some feathers.”

“It would be appreciated,” Winston drawled, lifting his brows, his lips turning down.

“See ya,” Morgan said, then pushed inside the door, leaving Rupert standing there with Winston.