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As they sat down to dinner, Valentin and several others joined them at the table. Mischa found it curious that those who joined them were all men. Dinner was, to say the least, awkward. Simone only spoke when spoken to. She answered questions with one-word answers and only picked at her food.
“Valentin, Simone worked with you this afternoon, did she not?” asked Mischa.
“She did. I don’t think she was happy with all the arrangements I’d made prior to her joining us and flat out rejected the dress I had selected for her.”
“It was chosen for Gigi. In case you missed it, I don’t look a thing like my older, glamorous sister. If nothing else, I would think I am entitled to pick my own ceremony dress.”
“That seems fair, Valentin,” said Mischa.
“But the problem is ceremony dresses are normally custom-made and take months. We could look for something off the rack, but Simone is not the size the shops normally carry.”
“In other words, I’m too fat to have the dress I want. I would like to point out, Valentin, that the dress you selected for GiGi won’t fit me. So, what do we do then?”
“Alterations…” started Valentin.
“Alterations work best when you are taking something in. There are not enough alterations in the world to make that ugly dress fit me. And even if it could be made to fit, I wouldn’t wear it.”
Placing her napkin in the middle of her plate, Simone stood. “Please excuse me. I seem to have lost my appetite.”
Simone turned and walked away. This time she cut directly through the middle of the room, taking the shortest distance between two points.
“Gentlemen, it seems my mate is in need of my assistance with her manners. Please finish your meal.”
Mischa tried to look like he wasn’t all that concerned about Simone’s behavior, when in fact he would have liked to throttle her. He had just made the foot of the stairs when Valentin stopped him.
“Mischa, I was going to talk to you about the dress. She was pretty upset, but I guess I didn’t know how upset. I called Nicole Wells as she has far more contacts in the bridal world, especially in Seattle. She said we need to know Simone’s regular size, and then she’d see what she could do. She said it might not be a traditional gown, but she thinks she can cobble something together that will be pretty and appropriate. If I’d realized how upset she was, I would have spoken with you immediately.”
“I don’t think Simone’s temper tantrum was about the dress. I witnessed her sister throwing a far worse display when she realized I had come for her. No, this is about her wanting to eat in her room and my refusing to allow it. Tell Nicole we’re grateful for anything she can do to help, but come hell or high water, I will take Simone to mate regardless of what she’s wearing.”
Valentin inclined his head. “Yes, Alpha.”
Mischa spun on his heel and took the steps two at a time, striding down the hall to Simone’s door. He was surprised when he turned the knob and it opened easily. He’d had the lock repaired earlier in the day. Simone stood with her back to the balcony, facing the door.
“I expected the door to be locked,” he said.
Simone shrugged. “You proved last night that a lock was ineffective, so I didn’t see a reason to bother someone with having to repair it again.”
“Would you like to explain your behavior downstairs?”
Another shrug. “The dress was ugly. There is no way it can be made to fit me. I can assure you GiGi would never have agreed to wear it, and she would have found Valentin’s plans to be provincial at best.”
He advanced on her, and Kitty stepped between them, crouching low, tail waving back and forth slowly and growling. The damn lynx was challenging him?
“Tell your pet to behave itself or I’ll have it locked in the stable.”
Simone opened the French door out to the balcony. “Kitty, go for a run.” The lynx snarled and hissed. “Kitty, I said go.” Reluctantly the feline loped past her, hopped to the top of the railing and sailed gracefully to the ground below.
“Why don’t you just admit I no longer fulfill your need for the perfect mate? I can be packed and ready to go by morning. If you’ll have your pilot take me home, I’m sure you and my father can work something out.”
“This is your home, and you’re not going anywhere,” he said in a raised voice, his temper starting to take hold.
“Let me be frank. My father knew I couldn’t shift. He should have told you. He didn’t. I can’t fix it. If I could have, I would have. I have tried so many times, and I have nothing to show for it.”
Her breathing was becoming more labored and erratic.
“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you,” she continued. “I’m not a social butterfly. I’ve spent most of my life in one place, although I’ve taken some fabulous vacations and educational trips, but mostly, I’m a homebody. Your people…”
“They are your people now.”
