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Genevieve didn't know what to expect during dinner. She didn't expect the head of the table to be reserved for her mother, Lorelei's name plate boldly in front of the seat. Genevieve noticed the dirty look her Aunt Millicent sent her mother when they sat down. Genevieve was thankful that she was seated to her mother's right and hated that Matthew was seated far to the end of the table near the door. Aunt Millicent was seated to Lorelei's left, Gwendolynn next to her, and Uncle Thomas was seated next to Genevieve.
Genevieve wasn't naive; she knew that the seating was a means of succession of power. Her mother was at the head of the table, just like Sylvia seemed to always want, with Millicent and Thomas following after. Genevieve just felt out of place being at Lorelei's right hand, a clear sign that whoever made the seating arrangements decided that she was more important than her Aunt and Uncle.
She also noticed that no one began eating until Lorelei did, always waiting until she picked up her fork before starting a course.
Genevieve felt incredibly awkward the entire time.
Everyone made polite conversation with each other, and while Millicent made a few snide comments, no one was mean or seemed to look down on her. Millicent was the polar opposite of everyone else toward Genevieve; it seemed like everyone had her and Lorelei on a pedestal. She would catch someone staring, shifting uncomfortably in her seat when they didn't break their stare until she did. Genevieve hated it.
"Genevieve." Genevieve glanced up from her ravioli to her Aunt, immediately put on guard at the predatory smirk on her face. "That's an interesting necklace you have. It looks homemade."
Genevieve felt her heart stutter, glancing at her mother. Lorelei simply nodded, taking a sip of her red wine. Genevieve could see the defensive look in her mother's eyes, giving her the courage to face her aunt knowing that her mother was ready to defend her.
Genevieve sat straight, putting down her fork as she met her aunt's gaze head on. She had a feeling she was going to loose her appetite over whatever her aunt wanted to say. "It is. My boyfriend made it for my birthday."
"How sweet," Millicent swirled her wine in its glass, eyes unwavering. She leaned back in her seat, her lips pulled into a knowing smile. "May I ask why a wolf of all things?"
Genevieve licked her lips, keeping her gaze on her aunt as she felt everyone's eyes fall on her, the idle chatter of the table coming to a slow stop. She folded her hands in her lap under the table, quickly wiping the sweat off on her dress. She took a breath, reminding herself that their opinion of her didn't matter. They'd already decided what to think of her the moment she walked in. If she lost her temper, it would do nothing but reaffirm their assumptions of her.
"He's a shifter. Him and his pack protect the humans on their land," Genevieve stated proudly, clenching her jaw when she heard the whispers that erupted around her. She kept her head held high, refusing to let their whispers take away the pride she felt toward Seth and the pack. The pack protected her regardless of what she was. And her sweet Seth loved her unconditionally. The Sirens did not get to have the power to make her feelings inferior. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms in annoyance.
