“I’m not wearing that,” Jane announced, her voice more strident than it had been in days. “You wear it. Oh god, I think it has lace. Gross, Anya. What are you even thinking? Drop it, drop it now or I’ll put bullet holes in it.”

Lucy had been distracted, dwelling on yet another argument she’d had with Mack that morning before he dropped her off at her sister’s house to go dress shopping with Jane and Jane’s sister-in-law, Anastasia. Jane’s amazing ability to turn every situation into a battle zone was providing some amusement from Lucy’s depression. Anya rolled her eyes and, heaving an exaggerated sigh, shoved the gorgeous dress back on the rack and faced Jane, hands on her hips.

“We both know that threat won’t work with me,” the tiny purple-haired pixie-like Russian woman said. “I happen to know my brother confiscated your weapon before we left. So, you can just deal for five damn minutes, pick a freaking dress and get your scrawny ass into one of those change rooms.”

Anya and Jane faced off for a moment while Lucy watched, a small smile playing at her lips. Both were small women, probably around 5’3”, fine-boned and feisty. Anya wore a periwinkle blue tutu over black leggings and a black pleather bustier. Jane wore dark blue jeans, torn at the knees from wear not fashion and a T-shirt that said, “BIG dick here” with an arrow pointing down. Jane’s idea of a joke because she was a private investigator. Lucy had no idea how Vladimir let her out of the house like that unless he didn’t see it under Jane’s jacket.

Finally, Jane ended her standoff with Anya by snatching a random dress off the rack and stalking toward the change rooms. Anya slapped Jane’s ass as she walked by and then danced out of the wrath zone. Jane growled and bared her teeth at the other woman while Lucy smothered a laugh.

“I think that one had puffy sleeves,” Anya whispered loudly and then laughed. “She really should have looked at it first.”

“It was pretty bad,” Lucy agreed, unleashing her own giggles while she browsed the racks, pulling dresses that might actually appeal to her fashion backwards sister. How her sister managed to spend 15 years in the city without picking up any sense of style was incomprehensible to Lucy who had learned to dress herself fashionably within weeks.

“Grab the black Gucci,” Anya suggested pointing toward another rack with several simple but beautiful dresses. “She won’t thank us for our interference, but she’ll look gorgeous nonetheless.”

Lucy laughed and picked up a couple of dresses in two different sizes, aware of Jane’s subtly changing breasts and hips. “Do you think she’ll let me help with her hair and make-up?” Lucy asked hopefully. “I really wish you were with us instead of the bridal party. Not that I want to steal you away from Ms. Cantore’s big day, but you seem to be able to bully her in a way that I can’t.”

“That is because I have Sitnikov blood running in these veins,” Anya said sternly, injecting an unnaturally thick Russian accent into her voice. “You cross me, you cross the Boss himself.” Both women burst out laughing. “And for the record, I think you’ll have about as much luck getting makeup on that mini beast as you would doing the hair and make-up for a crocodile. But have fun trying. Maybe get her to do a few vodka shots first.”

It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to remind Anya that Jane could no longer drink when she realized Anya didn’t know that her sister-in-law was pregnant. Lucy did a quick count and decided that Jane was eleven or twelve weeks along. Maybe she and Vlad were holding on to their news until Jane was feeling more comfortable? So far, every time Lucy tried to bring the pregnancy up with her sister, Jane changed the subject or became outright obstinate. Lucy was about ready to insist her sister tell her what was bothering her, but they never had the chance to talk privately. Mack or Vlad were always around.

The change room door banged open so hard that every woman in the vicinity jumped and all eyes riveted on Jane who was standing in the doorway of the change room looking utterly livid. Lucy and Anya started laughing at the exact same time, unable to hold back the peals of giggles as they clutched each other and pointed at the deeply unamused woman standing in what could only be described as the worst prom dress of all time.

“This has to be a joke,” Jane said from between gritted teeth. “I don’t give two fucks about fashion and even I know a dress like this doesn’t belong in a store like this.”

“Oh my god, oh… oh my gosh…” Anya said repeatedly, trying to catch her breath while wiping the tears from beneath her eyelids. “I-it’s called a nostalgia dress, based on what was popular in the 80’s.”

“Why does it look so fucking bad?” Jane asked, truly bewildered as she held the shiny seaweed-coloured taffeta skirt out and made a face. “I feel like I should be covered in pig’s blood Carrie-style.”

The dress, combined with Jane’s utter confusion and her severe hairstyle set the two women laughing again.

Jane narrowed her eyes. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this. Swear to god, you are so lucky I don’t have a gun.”

“Janie’s got a gun!” Anya burst out laughing again and then corrected herself. “Actually, she doesn’t ‘cause my brother took it away since she’s too trigger happy.”

“H-here, try these,” Lucy said, gasping for breath and handing over an armful of dresses.

Jane snatched them and stomped back into the change room, slamming the door behind her.

“Okay, now your turn,” Anya said attempting to collect herself. “What sort of style should we go for?” She eyed the younger woman. Lucy was reminded sharply of her conversation with Mack that morning and her face fell a little. Anya’s sharp blue eyes took note. “Everything okay?”

Lucy shrugged. “It’s just my boyfriend. He’s not really happy about this wedding.”

Anya looked taken aback for a moment and then tilted her head to the side. “You’re seeing Mack Hudson, right? Why does he care about my bestie, Claudia, hitching herself to Tyson King?”

Lucy smiled. “Oh, he doesn’t care what they do. It’s me he cares about and virtually everything I get up to.”

“Uh huh,” Anya said, her blue eyes dimming a little. “So it’s like that, is it?”

“Pretty much.”

“And his problem with the wedding?” Anya asked gently, fingering the soft, stretchy fabric of an elegant dress.

“I’ve been informed by your brother that I have to attend this wedding with the Russians. That this is important for appearances and any interference on Mack’s part won’t be tolerated. Vladimir did say Mack was welcome to join our party, but that I must ride and sit with the Sitnikov’s. Which does make sense since I’m technically invited because of them.”

Anya handed Lucy the lovely dress from the rack. “Of course you should go with the Sitnikov’s. It makes sense and you’ve only been seeing this guy for a few weeks. Uh, not that I’m one to talk. I hooked up with Ash pretty super quick, but we slowed down when I said I needed some space. He respected my decision.”

Lucy nodded dismally catching the implication. Mack was not respecting her decisions, which was fast becoming a problem. Her heart wanted that man and the thought of being apart from him hurt, but she was too young to be bullied into every little thing. Before long, she would turn into his mindless doll, with no thoughts or actions left to call her own.

“I take it he doesn’t want to go to the wedding with the Sitnikov’s?” Anya asked, adding another gown to Lucy’s pile.

Lucy heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Can you blame him? Considering the politics involved in this event, it makes quite a statement to be seen with Vladimir Sitnikov.”

Anya nodded. “Indeed, it does.” Then her voice hardened. “But Mack Hudson isn’t without his own shadowed reputation in this city. That man isn’t an angel and if he plans on escorting a close relative of Vladimir Sitnikov, then he better damn well get used to the association.”

Lucy blinked in surprise and then began to smile. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. Thank you for a little bit of perspective, Anya. The man keeps declaring that he wants me, but he won’t take the things that go with me, like my family or my need for a little bit of independence. I’m too young for this kind of horse shit.”

Anya laughed out loud. “Well stated and I absolutely agree.”

“What about this?” Jane said from behind them. “I think I can manage to not maim anyone at the reception in something like this.”

Both women turned around. Jane stood, looking both exceptionally pretty, yet very awkward and uncertain in the sleeveless black Gucci dress that landed about mid-thigh and hugged her new curves deliciously.

“Perfect,” Lucy said.

“You better wear a full-length coat over that shit, or my brother isn’t going to let you out the front door,” Anya declared with a grin.