Another day, another gala.
I sighed to myself as I sat at my vanity, applying a bold red lipstick that popped perfectly against my complexion. With one last swipe, I leaned in and kissed the mirror, grinning at my reflection.
"What a day to be Y/N," I muttered with a wink.
Okay, maybe that was a little self-obsessed.
I stood and gave myself a full spin, making sure every detail was perfect. I wore a long white, backless silk dress that clung in all the right places. A single piece of fabric draped from the nape of my neck, trailing along the floor behind me like it had a mind of its own.
Ding.
My phone lit up on the counter. I picked it up and read the message.
"I'm here, Ma'am."
I smiled softly. My driver was here.
The past week had been nothing but chaos. I was designing looks for everyone and their mother, making sure every celebrity had something dazzling to wear to this gala. It was hectic. It was last minute. And I was exhausted. But I was good at my job, and I knew it.
I stepped outside and immediately spotted the familiar black BMW waiting at the curb. As I slid into the back seat, I relaxed into the cool leather.
"It's so good to see you, CJ," I said warmly, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his cheek.
CJ had been my driver for years, but more than that, he'd been my rock. The kind of constant support most people only dream about. Honestly, he had been there for me more than my own parents ever were. He gave me a nod and a smile before starting the car and driving.
Forty-five minutes later, we began slowing down as the car approached an obnoxiously luxurious driveway. It was dripping in wealth. Everything gleamed like it had just been polished for the gods.
I rolled my eyes.
"Show-off," I muttered under my breath.
Once inside the venue, the soft hum of string instruments floated through the air, blending with the scent of rich perfumes and even richer people. The room was filled with celebrities from every corner of the industry. If someone mattered, they were here. And if they weren't, they had definitely tried to be.
Soon, the event officially began.
I noticed Pepper Potts walking gracefully to the mic. The woman was stunning, as always.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the grand opening of the Platinum Night Stark Gala!" she said, her voice clear and warm. "To open the show, I'd like to invite the incredibly talented, world-renowned fashion designer who worked tirelessly to make us shine tonight."
Then she looked straight at me and smiled.
I froze. My eyes widened.
Wait, what?
A speech? No one told me I had to give a speech. My stomach twisted with nerves, but I forced myself to stand, smoothing out the silk of my gown as I made my way up the stairs to the stage.
You've done this before. Breathe.
I plastered on my best smile and approached the mic slowly.
"I can't express how much of an honor it is to be here tonight," I began, steadying my voice. "I want to express my gratitude to everyone who invited me to this glamorous event."
I paused, a mischievous spark flickering to life.
"You know, ever since I was a kid, I always knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to share my ideas and make the labyrinth of endless designing worth something. And tonight truly feels like a 'made it' moment."
I smirked, tilting my head slightly.
"I always said, where you lack in personality, you can make up for it with glamour. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what I think about Tony Stark tonight, wearing the best of my designs."
There were stifled laughs scattered through the crowd. The kind where people knew they shouldn't laugh but couldn't help it. I bowed politely to Pepper and the audience as the room burst into applause. Then I turned and made my way back to my seat.
I caught a glimpse of Pepper's face. She was smiling, but the kind of smile that said, Oh no, you just poked the bear. She knew Tony well, and she knew just how egotistical that man could be.
"Wow," she said into the mic, trying not to laugh. "Thank you, Y/N L/N, for your... incredible speech. And now, I'd like to welcome our host, Mr. Tony Stark!"
The audience erupted into applause so loud it almost felt rehearsed. I clapped too, because I'm professional, and also because the paycheck was probably going to make me cry happy tears later.
Suddenly, the lights changed. The music swelled. A platform rose from the center of the stage and there he was.
Tony freaking Stark.
He stepped out of the capsule like he owned the planet. The spotlight hit him just right, catching his cufflinks and the smirk that was already plastered across his face. He adjusted the mic like he'd been born on that stage.
"Well, well. That was... humbling," he said, eyes locking directly onto mine.
I stared right back, not giving him the satisfaction of blinking.
"I'd like to personally thank our world-renowned fashion genius for not only dressing me tonight, but also dressing me down in front of the entire elite of New York."
A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd.
"I mean, if lacking personality is what this suit makes up for, then I'm a little concerned about what it says about her personality when she designed it," he added with a smirk. "Actually, I'm terrified."
More laughter. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
"But credit where it's due. I've worn a lot of suits in my life. Some flew. Some exploded. Some saved the world. But this one? This one makes me look like I give a damn about fashion. Which, by the way, I don't."
He paused just long enough to milk the room's attention. Then his eyes flicked back to me again, and for a split second, his expression softened.
"That said, it takes real skill to make a guy like me shut up and let the clothes do the talking. If I get a standing ovation tonight, I guess I'll have to split the credit. Ninety-five percent me. Five percent fabric. Generous, I know."
He winked.
The room broke into thunderous laughter and applause. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair.
Typical Tony Stark.