Then I feel something brush against my leg.
“Ava!” I gasp, bringing a hand to cover my mouth. I’m unable to stifle a laugh. “How long have you been under there?”
She pokes her head out from under the skirt and giggles, rushing over to Lily, who bursts into laughter.
The shop attendant looks like she’s about to have a heart attack. She folds her arms across her chest, looking at us all with something like disgust on her face.
“That is— You shouldn’t— I’ve never?—”
But I can’t help it. I break into a fit of uncontrollable giggles too.
“I think that’s a no, for this one. If I can fit an entire four-year-old under the skirt without noticing, that’s too much fabric for me.”
I keep my words moderate because the shop attendant is still looking like she’s just swallowed a frog.
Lily nods her approval from the ottoman where she’s lounging with a cupcake. “Good choice.” She wrinkles her nose. “The color is perfect, but you look kinda like a dessert from the Great British Bake-off. Maybe a profiterole tower, with those gauzy flowers.”
She shoots a look at the shop attendant, who is taking the next dress from her colleague to bring over to us. “Sorry… It’s uh, gorgeously made, of course, just not quite Nina’s style.”
“I think you look like a princess, Mommy,” Ava says, hugging my leg. Or attempting to, through the flared organza.
“Exactly, Ava, it’s a princess dress.” I smile at the shop attendant.
She remains stony and stern, pursing her lips.
“Please keep your child’s grubby little hands away from the dresses.”
Lily’s jaw drops, and she gets up from the plush ottoman she’s been sitting on. “What did you just say to her?”
The attendant pinches the bridge of her nose. “We cannot have children touching the dresses. You are only trying on the clothing, not buying it. Please keep your child out of it.”
“Is there a problem here?” comes a rumbling voice.
Art has sent his cousin Nikolai to keep an eye on us while we wedding dress shop. I didn’t think it was a high-stakes situation, but he’s been paranoid ever since the gala.
Despite being covered in tattoos — even his face is a map of Russian mob symbols — Nikolai is surprisingly soft. Especially whenit comes to Lily.
Now the shop attendant truly looks like she’s about to faint, taking in his tattoos and general demeanor. He has an uncanny way of melting in and out of the shadows. She opens her mouth and then closes it again, maybe deciding to keep her thoughts to herself.
With a deep breath, she turns to me again with the demeanor of a disappointed schoolteacher.
“We were happy to make this appointment at the last minute thanks to your fiancé’s, er, generosity. But at Briar’s, we are not used to these kinds of disturbances during our fitting sessions, Ms. Porter. Kindly ensure that all members of your party remain civil, no matter their age or,” she looks down her nose at Nikolai, “occupation.”
When she stalks off and is safely out of earshot, Lily and I turn to each other with perfectly matching expressions.
“What. The. Fuck.” I mouth to Lily, covering Ava’s ears.
“Do we… keep shopping here?”
“We do not,” growls Nikolai, already collecting our bags.
We both turn to him in surprise.
“Disrespect towards you is disrespect towards the Petrov name,” he says, nodding his head towards me, like it’s obvious. “It won’t be tolerated.”
“I’m not a Petrov, yet.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he grunts, sweeping his tattooed arm at us. “She is.” He points at Ava and my brows shoot up in surprise. I didn’t think Art had told anyone yet. “We’re leaving.”
