Mikalo's Fate (The Mikalo Chronicles) (13 page)

At this, Caugina snapped her head to Deni.

"Caugina," Deni repeated. "Caugina Delis. The wife of Silvestro? Mikalo's brother. Right, the fat one."

Deni laughed.

"Yes, yes, and Silvestro needs to lose weight as well," she said.

Another laugh.

"Oh, I adore you, too, sweetie," Deni then said. "No, no, I'll explain later. Yes, when I'm home we'll definitely do lunch."

And an air kiss later, the call was finished, the hammer having fallen on the first nail in Caugina's social coffin.

The bitch sat there and smiled.

And then she laughed.

"This is not true," she said. "You are an actress playing the part with your telephone. It is sad, really."

Her attention back to me,

"You, take that off. Now. We are finished. This is the dress. No argument."

"Ronan?" Deni asked.

I looked at her.

She was watching me, silently imploring me to speak, to stand up for myself. To put away my fear of displeasing Mikalo, to silence my fear of being disliked by his family who apparently hated me already.

What did I have to lose?

I caught my reflection in the mirror and quickly looked away.

And then I stopped and looked. Really looked. Hard.

No.

This was not me. It wasn't just the dress, as pathetic as it was. It was what I was allowing Caugina to do to me. What she was making me become. What I was letting her do.

"Take it off," Caugina all but barked.

"No," I said, quietly.

I could feel Deni relax, seeing the old Ronan return.

"It must come off or there is no wedding," Caugina said, her impatience getting the best of her as she spit out the words.

"There will be a wedding," I said.

"We will see ..." Caugina started to say.

"But not in this dress," I said.

Caugina fell quiet. And then she laughed.

"It is not a decision that is yours," she then said.

"Not in this dress," I repeated, reaching for the zipper in back.

"Ah, see?" Caugina said to no one in particular. "She fights. She is unpleasant. She is not good enough for Mikalo."

"Bullshit," I said, wrestling the thick fabric away from neck and sliding it from my shoulders. "I'm perfect for Mikalo and he's perfect for me and nothing you say or do, Caugina, is going to change that."

She watched me, her eyes narrowing as she geared up for the fight she'd been hoping to have since the day I landed in Greece.

"We're going to get married," I continued, "we're going back to the States, and we're going to have wonderful lives, even if that means never seeing you again. Especially if that means never seeing you again."

Caugina rose and slowly approached.

I stood, holding the sea green dress to my chest, suddenly aware I was stripping down to my bra and panties in the very public middle of the department.

"I will see to it this wedding does not happen," she all but spat in my face. "The family does not want it, Nona does not want it, and I, I do not want it.

"And I am the one in the family that is listened to. I am the one they pay attention to. I am the one with the power and that will never change."

She finished, moving back from me, her heavy-lidded eyes looking down on me.

From somewhere in her pocket, her phone rang.

With a smirk, she turned from me, reaching in and pressing the phone to her ear.

"Yes," she said.

She paused, listening.

She turned white, her eyes narrowing.

"I have an invitation," she then said. "I will be there."

She listened again, turning her back on me, and then, realizing she was now facing Deni, turned her back on her, once again facing me, trapped, her humiliation open for everyone to see.

Breathing deeply, she put a big smile on her face.

"Well, please thank Mrs. Gallisandrino for the invite, but unfortunately I'll be out of the country," she then said before hanging up.

Out of the country was always code for not invited or disinvited or never was going to be invited in the first place. If you failed to show up at a huge event, saying you were Out of the Country was a somewhat respectable way to admit your lowly social status.

Stupid, really. It was a world I knew something about, but didn't really live in. And wouldn't, if I had my way.

Caugina lifted her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her face looked pained and her hand was trembling.

I was not going to feel sorry for her. Never.

Her stiletto heels still threatening to snap, she marched past Deni.

She stopped.

"I am going home," she then announced, refusing to turn and face us. "Tonight. I will take the plane. You will find another way.

"And when I return, I will tell Mikalo of this. He will be angry and, I promise you, any love he feels will be gone. There will be no wedding."

With this, she turned to me, her eyes angry and dangerous.

"And for this, I am not sorry."

She turned and marched away.

My shoulders relaxed, the battle having been won.

At least this one.

"Then I won't wear a dress."

I laid on the bed in my teeny, tiny hotel room at The Ritz, the phone pressed to my ear, Mikalo miles and miles away.

"Really, we'll do something quiet, not fancy, really casual," I then said, finishing.

"My Grace, that is not what's being planned."

"You know it bugs me that I have no idea what that is, exactly."

"This I know," he said with a sigh. "It is a nice thing, what is being planned. It is a celebration. It will be very happy."

I shook my head.

No, Mikalo, I wanted to say. It will not be happy. And if it is, it'll only be because everyone will hit the ouzo really hard and get fall down drunk.

That I could live with. Anything to get through Caugina's death stares and Nona's obvious displeasure with me.

"Then I will find a dress in Athens or something."

Another sigh from him.

"Call Caugina," he then said. "Talk to her and I think she will help you find something."

"No," I said. "Absolutely not.

"You weren't there," I explained. "You didn't see how horrible the dress was, how mean she was to me, how mean she was to Deni. You weren't there, Mikalo. And there is no way I'm reaching out to that woman.

"Besides," I continued. "She's flying back to Greece right now."

"What?"

"She took the plane and will probably be home tonight. You can talk to her tonight."

"But how will you get home?" Mikalo asked.

"First, Greece is not home. Second, Caugina was quite confident I'd find my own way back."

"But how?"

"Mikalo, I can take a commercial flight," I said with a small laugh.

This was a new side of him, the Clueless Billionaire. I found it both hilarious and frightening.

"I will send the plane back for you," he suddenly said.

"You will not. Don't be stupid. I'm fine. It's not like I can't schedule a flight to Athens out of Charles de Gaulle myself or something, you know?"

"She had no right to take the plane without you."

I stopped, Mikalo's curious statement confusing me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Caugina, it was understood she could only take the plane to Paris if it was for you and only you. To do something else was to abuse my trust and make me angry."

I sighed.

God, this was all getting so stupid and complicated and ridiculous. I really looked forward to returning to normal life without Mikalo's insane family.

Whoever said weddings were fun didn't know what they were talking about.

"Again, don't worry," I assured him again. "I'm fine. I'll schedule a flight. It's no problem. Deni and I will be there soon. Tomorrow or the next day.

"And I will find a dress in Greece. It's okay. I'll look fine and at the end of the day, I'll be yours."

A pause from Mikalo.

I could feel his smile.

"Yes," he finally said.

"Perhaps it is best you are naked, yes?"

I laughed.

"I am sure Nona and Caugina would love that."

He laughed.

"I would love that," he said between chuckles, "and that is what is important, I think, no?"

"Yes."

There was a pause as our laughter died. My enjoying the presence of him, him enjoying this moment to connect.

I missed him. And he missed me.

"My Grace," he then said. "I am sorry I did not say something to my family earlier."

"Mikalo --" I began, but he interrupted me, continuing.

"No, I saw it so clear, the way they were treating you, and I did nothing to stop them, to correct them, to remind them that they are good people and this, what they were doing to you, this was not good.

"I saw it all and kept my silence, hoping it would go away and would stop. And I was wrong. And for this I am so truly very sorry."

"I could have spoken up, too, you know," I said, assuring him. "And I didn't. So we are both to blame, in a way.

"Regardless, it is nothing to worry about now. Let's just through the wedding and get back to New York where we belong."

The words came out before I could stop them.

For Mikalo, Greece was home. Not New York. I somehow kept forgetting that.

"You know what I mean," I quickly offered.

My voice sounded weak.

"No, no, this is right," he said. "But until that time, we must make this a good trip for you. A trip you will want to remember for good reasons, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed, having no idea what he was talking about, but eager to move past my New York is Home faux pas.

"But first," he continued, "I must speak with Nona."

I almost urged him not to, not wanting to annoy the old woman with my drama. But instead I kept silent, allowing him to do what he felt was right.

"And she will then know," he continued, "that if she cannot treat you with respect and as a friend, a thing you as the woman I love deserves, then we will not marry in Greece.

"We will go home, to New York, and marry there."

My last day in Paris.

Later I'd fly to Athens with Deni. She'd flown private, of course, and invited me to tag along . Of course. It's not like flying commercial would have been the end of the world. I mean, give me a break!

But the thought of spending more quality time surrounded by the rock solid sanity of Deni made stepping back into the insanity of Mikalo's family that much more bearable.

Or at least that was my hope.

I stood once again in the Place Vend
ôme
outside my hotel. The whole city before me and I had no idea what to do.

I considered swinging by Goyard and saying hello to Eric, the incredibly handsome manager from Germany who was beloved by all, slipping and sliding from gorgeous German into faultless French and then incredible English with ease.

Then I thought of how silly it might look if I came home from Paris laden with expensive bags, so no, next time.

The Left Bank.

Yes, that's what I'd do.

I hit Rue Castiglione and started toward the river, crossing the busy Rue Saint-Honor
é
with ease, passing Rue Mont Thabor where one of my favorite restaurants L'Ardoise, a busy little hole in the wall with real French food was cooked by real French chefs, sat, found myself navigating the crowds on the tourist driven Rue de Rivoli and finally, quickly skirting the traffic, escaped to the relative calm of the Tuileries.

Pausing under the shade of a great tree, the sounds of children playing nearby, the traffic clogged chaos of Rivoli now behind me, I closed my eyes and breathed deep, taking Paris in, treasuring this moment, doing what I could to bring a bit of Paris back with me. Somehow.

I felt better having Deni with me. Stronger. More sure of myself. In fact, I finally felt like myself again.

That made me wonder how different things were going to be once I returned to Greece. With Nona. With Silvestro and Caugina. With Mikalo.

I had yet to meet the other members of his clan. There had been brief introductions, of course. But I hadn't had the opportunity to sit and talk, share a meal, wander the beach, or really anything else with any of these strangers, most of them having fled to Athens or elsewhere during the day, often returning after dark when I was hiding in the room I shared with Mikalo.