3: Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride

'Taker could not remember being more pissed off than he was right now. He was sitting on the front porch steps of his house, holding a towel with ice in it against the back of his head, trying to ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder from where that bitch Reneire had clocked him with a goddamn sewing machine.

He had searched his house as well as hers, totally unsurprised to find both that cunt as well as Stephanie gone before calling Paul, instructing the other man to find Sine Reneire. He would find her, and when he did, all hell was going to break loose.

~!~

Sine spent her next twenty-four hours playing the catch up game. She found out the woman's name was Stephanie McMahon. Then she found out Stephanie was related to one of her customer's, more specifically, the owner of an entertainment business she did a lot of work for. She also found out Stephanie's fiancée was a wrestler who had taken his persona just a bit too far and crossed boundaries from in ring storylines to real life.

She had a hard time understanding it, having never been interested in wrestling, but somehow managed to understand enough to piece together the important information. Currently, she was trying not to fall asleep as Stephanie cried in father's arms, having been up the entire time holding the very girl who had scrawled a single word onto a slip of leather in the hopes of being rescued. Her arms were very grateful for the reprieve, letting Vince take over gladly.

"That rotten bastard…" Vince muttered darkly, stroking his sobbing daughter's hair, feeling her soaking the front of his blazer.

"Daddy, I was so s-scared!"

"I know, princess, I know. Everything is fine now and you're safe." He looked at her rescuer, extending a hand towards her and smiled tensely when she stood up to accept it, shaking firmly. "Thank you so much for everything you did."

"It was… not a problem." Sine said, lying through her teeth. It was a major problem to be honest. Hitting someone with a sewing machine could be considered tantamount to intent to kill with a deadly weapon. Though, now that she knew what was going on, perhaps it could be considered justifiable.

"I would also like to extend my protection to you, from the Undertaker and his Ministry."

She sat back down, surveying the man who had been signing her paychecks and stifled another yawn. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted his protection, and she only had a vague idea about the Ministry. Obviously, Vince's protection didn't mean too much, look what had happened to his own daughter. "I'm sure I'll be fine." She said after a moment, trying to be polite but it was becoming a bit hard after being up so long, still wearing her denim shorts and now barefoot since she had lost her flip flops somewhere along the way. Thankfully, she did have her wallet in her back pocket though. "I'll leave you to your daughter."

Vince began shaking his head, looking sympathetic as he stared at her over Stephanie's head. "'Taker knows it was you who saved my daughter and he will be after you."

"My father is right." Shane McMahon, who had been watching and listening from a quiet place against the wall, finally spoke up. He nearly flushed when Sine's piercing gray eyes landed on him, adjusting the sleeves of his crisp, button up, dress shirt while clearing his throat. "You'd be safe with the Corporation, Miss Reneire."

Sine was already shaking her head no, folding her arms over her chest.

"Miss Reneire, forgive me, but you… hit the man with a sewing machine, he's going to come after you."

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but I have a business to run. Not to mention I'm due in Milan in…" She glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning. "Less than forty-eight hours for a show featuring my work."

"Daddy, you couldn't even protect me, how are you-" Stephanie stopped mid-sentence, turning her head to stare at Sine with wide blue eyes. "You smashed a sewing machine on him?"

"Um… yes." Sine was pretty sure Stephanie's eyes were going to pop right out of their sockets. "If I hadn't, you'd still be stuck in that basement."

"She has to stay, daddy! If he finds her, he's going to kill her!"

All Sine could do was stare at the McMahon's like they had lost their minds, finally just nodding reluctantly.

Within hours, she had been placed in a hotel room with security at the door. She had spent some time on the phone, making excuses as to why she couldn't be at her own damn show, and then soaked in the bathtub.

As cruel and selfish as it was, she did wonder if she shouldn't have left Stephanie to 'Taker, or Mark, whoever he thought he was. She wouldn't have been in this stupid situation if she hadn't interfered. But then again… Stephanie's thankful eyes flashed before her, causing her to sigh.

~!~

"We found her."

'Taker's demonic acid stare met the slightly nervous gaze of his mentor and manager and simply folded his arms over his massive chest. "And?"

"She's uh…"

"She's with the Corporation." Edge stepped in when Paul hesitated, knowing they really didn't have the time for this. He shut his mouth and turned to watch as a screaming Stephanie McMahon was dragged into the room by the Acolytes, smirking slightly. Capturing her, again, had been almost as easy the second time around as it had been the first.

His mood improving, 'Taker approached Stephanie, purposefully licking his lips in a lewd fashion. "Security still not up to par, hmm?"

Stephanie was trembling from head to toe, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"It was like taking candy from a baby, boss." Bradshaw chuckled, shoving Stephanie away from him and right into 'Taker's waiting arms.

"Welcome back, Princess."

Paul waited until 'Taker had finished tormenting the youngest McMahon before allowing Edge and Christian to cart her off, pulling a folder out from beneath his arm. "Sine Reneire." He began, not surprised when 'Taker's attention was instantly on him, seeing the maliciousness lighting those eyes. "She's has dual citizenship, here in the United States and in France, her mother was French and she alternates six months between here and there. She is internationally known for her designs and dress work and only takes clients on if she feels like it." He flipped through the paperwork he had scrounged up. "She's low key and likes her privacy; she is also… very, very well off." Paul arched an eyebrow when he heard a scream followed by silence, guessing Stephanie was now out cold. "Now that Stephie's back, do we forget Miss Reneire?"

"Why on earth would we do that?" 'Taker asked, somewhat amused by the question though his eyes were telling a completely different story. "She hit me with a sewing machine, Paul. I don't care about her citizenship status, how much money she has, or what she does for a living. She will pay for screwing with my plans and not minding her own damn business. Are we clear on that?"

"Crystal." Paul smirked wickedly. "Would you like to know where she's staying at then?"

~!~

Sine wasn't very happy when she was woken up at three AM by a frantic Shane McMahon. She was even less happy when she was told Stephanie had been taken… again. That meant, for all the Corporation's supposed protection, they couldn't do shit. She immediately booked a flight to Milan, telling Shane flat out she'd take her chances.

~!~

Milan, Italy was interesting to say the least. 'Taker had wrestled here more than once but this was the first time he had ever purposefully sought out a fashion show. His entire Ministry had come with him and he used them to scout out Sine's hotel, her schedule, and everything else he would need.

The night of the show, he was feeling particularly devious, and in a bit of a mood, so he had forced Christian and Edge to go completely clean shaven and in disguise, as woman.

"You two are the ugliest broads I have ever seen." Farooq grunted when the disgruntled pair reluctantly emerged from the bathroom. He took in their gowns, their nylons and high heels and finally their made-up faces. "Definitely hideous."

"This is totally wrong." Christian muttered, trying not to get his upper and lower lashes stuck together by blinking, they were caked with mascara, badly applied mascara that kept clumping. "Why do we have to do this?"

"Yeah?" Edge chimed in, reaching back to tug his nylons out of his ass, groaning when Bradshaw whistled. "Why can't they do this?"

Bradshaw arched an eyebrow at that, flexing his muscles in what was meant to be an intimidating manner. "Look and you, and then take a good look at us, boy. Do you really think anyone is going to buy us as… pretty little girls?"

Sometimes, 'Taker mused, he really did have brilliant ideas and this was definitely one of the more entertaining ones.

~!~

Sine was backstage at her show, sipping champagne and shouting instructions as models rushed around, changing in and out of dresses. She wasn't too keen on these kinds of events but at the same time, it was part of the job. Thankfully, she only did a few shows a year and seldom went out herself at the end, preferring her privacy.

Because she was not required to actually show her face tonight, she had dressed relatively causal. A pair of high waist, white slacks with a black, short sleeved, silk shirt, black stilettos on her feet and her brown hair curled and pinned back from her face. She kept glancing at the clock, trying not to show how anxious she was to leave and just kept the smile on her face.

"Who are… they?" Monique, her Manhattan based assistant asked, leaning into Sine's side as they watched the… most hideous pair of women approach. "They are…"

"Squarely built." Sine supplied, not saying what they both were honestly thinking: hideous. Her amusement died when the pair halted directly in front of her. "Yes?"

"Miss Reneire?"

Monique and Sine both winced at the shrill voice of the taller one.

"We are such big fans of your, um,-"

"Work!"

"Yes, your work, and we need a wedding dress! My sister-"

"No, you!"

"My, I mean, I, I need a wedding gown."

Clearing her throat, Sine could only nod, the humor back in full force and she was pretty sure it was showing in her eyes. "Sure, why don't we, um, step over here so we're not in anyone's way?" She suggested, gesturing to the corridor that led to the restrooms and fire exit. As she guided them away, she seen Monique wiping tears out of her eyes and had to swallow down the rest of her champagne, fighting back the urge to laugh.