Page 86 of Glitterati Omega

“Cool,” Quinn said.

They listened for a moment, hearing the steady thump-thump of the heart, and Rupert’s throat constricted, until it almost hurt to breathe and he had no choice but to cry.

Quinn left them with instructions to schedule another appointment, to consult with Morgan, to set up the next ultrasound appointment. Then they left the two of them. Rupert sat up and cried for another minute or two, while Winston found some paper towel to start sopping up Rupert’s mess.

Finally, he forced Rupert to go back out to the change room; Rupert used a wet paper towel to rinse off. Then he changed back into his dress.

“I’m so relieved,” he murmured into Winston’s shoulder as they left the office.

“Me too, actually,” the alpha said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s your baby too.” Rupert looked up at him, and Winston gave his shoulders a squeeze.

Rupert spent the next two days in a daze, daydreaming about moving to a vineyard in Hill Country, Winston working the land, and him minding the baby. No functions, no anything to worry about. It seemed like bliss.

Three days later, he woke up in Johannesburg, sick as a dog and more tired than he’d ever been in his life. He slept most of the day, leaving Winston to go about town, handling “business,” as the lawyer put it. Rupert felt almost delirious when he was awake, so he tried to spend as much time as possible asleep.

On the second day, he felt much better, so he went with Winston to the house and then out to the mines. The manager seemed almost uncomfortable with him there, preferring to talk to Winston. Rupert supposed sexism was alive and well, even in this day and age.

On the third day, he met the real estate agent at the house. They told him, excitedly, how much they thought the house was worth, that he could likely sell to a historical society or a developer.

Rupert considered, then said, “Could we give it back to the people?”

The agent stared at him blankly for a very long time after. “What … do you mean, give it back?” they asked at last. “It’s yours.”

Rupert nodded. “But how did it come tobemine? The Sotho and Tswana people were here long before my ancestors, and others before them.”

They stared at him some more. “So you want to … do what exactly?”

“Well, you’ve told me what it’s worth—can we either donate it, give it back to those people, or perhaps sell it to them at a fraction of the cost?”

The agent shook their head. “I’ll … I’ll talk to my boss,” they said, eyeing him critically.

“That sounds reasonable,” Rupert replied, frowning. Maybe he’d find the local leaders and askthem. He doubted the agent or their boss knew much of anything. At least he had a valuation for the property now.

He got back in the car. “Back to the hotel, please, Moose.”

“Very good,” Moose said, glancing back at him in the rearview. “Do you want to stop anywhere else?”

Rupert glanced at his phone to get the time. “What would you think about lunch?”

When he looked up, he saw Moose smiling just a touch. “I might know a spot or two for sosatie,” he said.

“Sounds delightful,” Rupert murmured, then glanced up at a car across the road from the gate. It seemed to have been parked there for a while, although Rupert couldn’t remember when it had arrived. “Moose.”

“I’m aware,” he answered, easing them out of the drive and down the cobblestone street. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

Rupert twisted around.

“Ignore it,” Moose said. “Act like you don’t see them.”

“Are they following us?”

Moose hummed. “Maybe,” he said finally, then took another left.

Rupert longed to turn around, but he suspected Moose’s advice was sound. They didn’t want to tip anyone off that they were on to them; if they seemed oblivious, then observation was likely to stay that way.

“We’ve lost them,” Moose said at length, and Rupert breathed a sigh of relief.