Page 88 of Glitterati Omega

Sixteen

J

ust calm down,” alina told him overthe video link, shaking her head. “It probably wasn’t even him.”

“Exactly,” Elise called from the background. “Lotsa people have very punchable faces.”

“Oh,” Rupert huffed, folding his arms and looking away. He glanced at his phone, but Winston still hadn’t texted him back.

“I’m not wrong,” Elise said, sidling up to Alina and sitting down beside her. They both stared at the camera.

“I guess the real question,” Alina said, “is what you’d do if it was him.”

“You just told me to put the thought out of my head!” Rupert cried.

Elise waved a hand. “Even if ass-face is in town, it’s not like he’s knocking down your door. Now is it?”

“Not precisely.” Rupert frowned. “But there was the car, it was following us, and—”

“Right,” Alina cut in, “but that’s just conjecture now. So a car seemed to follow you, and there was a guy who just so happened to look like your ex-husband. Chances are pretty high it wasn’t him—just some guy, and he’s not stalking you or … whatever.” She waved a hand. “But let’s forget probability. What if it was? What would you do?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it would depend on why the hell he’s here.”

“Exactly,” Alina said.

“Could be that he just decided to vacation at the same time as you.”

Rupert curled his lip. “Thomas always hated Johannesburg.” It was why the house was in rougher shape than it might have been. His father had offered it to them as a vacation home, but Thomas had stayed there once and then swore it off.

“Maybe there’s some conference or something,” Alina said hopefully.

“Maybe,” Rupert echoed, but he didn’t believe it. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance one of you could pop ’round to Belvoir and see if he’s at home.”

“No,” they said in unison.

“Please tell me you haven’t been creeping his social media, Roo.”

Rupert looked away. Elise sighed in exasperation. “I was just curious!” he cried. “Thomas posts everything, and he hasn’t posted very much about being at home, so I …”

“You’re reverse-stalking him,” Elise said flatly.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Alina shook her head. “Roo, what does it matter?”

“Yeah,” Elise agreed. “Unless he’s knocking on your door …”

There was, at that moment, a knock at the door, and Rupert jumped. “Come in,” he called hesitantly.

Charli stepped into the room, frowning. “There’s some lawyer bastard at the door, wants to speak with you.”

“Winston?” Rupert asked hopefully, but Charli shook her head. He glanced at the screen.

“What would you like me to tell him?” she asked.

“What does he want?” Rupert frowned again. He imagined it couldn’t be anything good.

Charli hummed. “Think he said he was with Vanderwitte and Schnoe.”