Mikalo's Fate (The Mikalo Chronicles) by Syndra K. Shaw

on the screen.
    The familiar Greek country code. The stream of numbers following it ones I didn't recognize. Certainly wasn't Mikalo.
    It could only be one other person.
    Caugina.
    "Here we go," I said to Deni as I answered.
    A stern female voice barked out a series of brief orders, basically amounting to me meeting the Mrs. Delis in twenty minutes at the Lafayette Marriage Boutique in the Galeries Lafayette.
    Click.
    "A department store?" Deni asked, her jaw dropping. "She wants to buy your wedding dress at a department store?"
    I sighed, suddenly aware my shoulders were back up by my ears.
     
     
     
     

Chapter Twenty-Four
     
    No.
    No, no, no, a million times no.
    Grabbed from the nearby bargain rack, this monstrosity I was squeezed into was truly frightening.
    Bedazzled with way too much cubic zirconia, the neck was choking me, the square shoulders overshot mine by at least six inches, the waist was so tight it cut into my skin, and the skirt, well, the skirt flared out very wide only to end right below my knee.
    And it was an odd shade of sea green.
    In truth, it was a bridesmaid's dress. That's if you really hated your bridesmaids and wanted to embarrass them to death.
    But the message was unmistakable: I was not a bride. I was something less.
    Then I remembered Caugina had chosen it.
    "It is perfect," came the verdict, the now despised deep voice dripping with condescension.
    "We will have this," she was then telling the salesgirl.
    "No."
    Deni stood nearby, watching me with a pained expression on her face.
    An awkward silence fell.
    "This is the one," Caugina said again, ignoring me, the hapless salesgirl not sure whether to move to wrap it up as quickly as possible or to wait and see what was being said next.
    "No," Deni said again. "It is not."
    Standing there barefoot and humiliated, avoiding my reflection in the mirror, I held my tongue.
    "But she is the dream," Caugina insisted, refusing to look at Deni.
    "That dress is a nightmare," Deni replied.
    "The dress, it is good," Caugina said again.
    "It is not," Deni repeated.
    Then, to the salesgirl,
    "You can go. We need to discuss this."
    The salesgirl quickly left.
    I could feel Caugina's cheeks grow red with rage.
    "Ronan," Deni said, "go and take that off. Now."
    "Yes," Caugina agreed, "I think we have found our dress."
    Deni approached Caugina.
    Caugina's back went up.
    I remained glued to the spot, quite literally too afraid to move.
    "I don't know what you think you're doing, Caugina," Deni was saying, "but there is no way in hell Ronan is leaving this store, this department store, mind you, with that monstrosity of a dress."
    Caugina stared straight ahead, ignoring Deni, not deigning to look at her.
    "It is not you to decide," she said through gritted teeth. "Who are you? You are but a friend of this no one here. A no one yourself. A nobody. Your opinion, this is not worth a listen to."
    Deni stood, immaculately dressed, beautiful, obviously a women of means, and Caugina sat there bursting out of last season's couture, scared to death of this "no one".
    Even drowning in a sea of atrocious green, I was loving every minute of this.
    "I see," Deni said.
    She walked over to her Birkin, reached inside and took out her phone.
    Caugina smirked, prematurely celebrating her victory.
    "Do you know Katherine Gallisandrino?" Deni asked, naming one of the most important women in any social circle anywhere. Wife of an heir to a fortune that reached back no less than five generations, she was the arbiter of who was In and who was Out.
    "But of course I know Katherine," Caugina said, the condescension back in full force. "We are but the best of the friends."
    The phone pressed to her ear, Deni offered a small smile.
    "Hello, Katherine," she suddenly said into the phone. "I'm well, sweetheart. And you?"
    She paused as she listened, the panicked look on Caugina's face absolutely priceless.
    "I'm in Paris. Ronan's getting married. Yes, yes, of course. I will send her your