Grand Galloping Gala Dresses Novels & Stories

The Gala I stand in the grand ballroom, my fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of the deep blue dress I’d bought with the first part of the money Adrian had given me. It was the first nice thing I’d worn in years, soft and well‑fitted, but right now, it felt like armor I wasn’t entirely sure how to wear.

Then he whispered, “The mayor’s birthday gala is in two days.” “I know.” “They’re going to be there.” “Logan. Richard. The board. Probably my father, too.” He nodded. “It’s not just a party. It’s a performance. A war in formalwear.” I touched his chest gently. “Then let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.” Later that evening, I sat in the walk-in closet with Lita, our house stylist, reviewing dress options for the gala. She held up a sleek black satin gown with a high slit and crystal detailing along the neckline.

I ask him and come close to him, placing my hands on his chest and grabbing his tie to arrange it a little bit. "Did I tell you how beautiful you are?" he asks me laughing. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Zoey!" I can only stand still as my cheeks turn red. I look really good in the clothes that Rose convinced me to wear on the Gala. I wear a Cutout crêpe maxi dress from MÔNOT. You can never go wrong with this kind of dress at a party. The dress has shoulder pad inserts, a damn low back and cinched waist. Also in the front of this sexy black dress my tiny breasts are barely covered by the soft and delicate material.

“We have a formal gala to go to in a few weeks and we would like something elegant, but not too flashy. Can you direct us towards anything that would fit those requirements?” A sparkle appears in the lady’s eyes as she smiles. “You are going to the big gala with the royals. I would love to go to something like that.” She lays the sparkling dresses, that she is carrying, over a nearby rack and motions for us to follow her again. “Right this way. I think I have several that would work.” She glances back at Page. “I have a gorgeous purple dress that would look amazing with your green eyes and long blonde hair.”

Yes she was going to go with them to that party, but they will have to deal with her bad mood because of it. Her parents, as she had imagined, were dressed as two cake dolls. Her dad was always giving the impression that he was more important that he really was using expensive suits and her mom was flawless without even trying and was wearing a red long dress that nearly covered her chest. For a second, Gigi did not know if they were going to a simple meeting or to the Prince of Wellington's wedding.

The morning of the gala, I find myself standing in my walk-in closet longer than I'd like to admit, staring at three different gowns laid across the bed like the choice actually matters beyond fabric and color. "You're overthinking this." Elena leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth. "It's just a dress, Amara." "It's not just a dress." I hold up the deep emerald gown, then set it down again in favor of the black one. "It's the first gala I'm attending since the last one ended with me signing divorce papers in front of half the city."

"You don't need to keep apologizing. You were obviously shocked by what you walked into, but let's just leave it behind us." A visible wave of relief washed over Genevieve’s face. "Thank you, Bella. I really appreciate that." I stood up from the vanity chair, taking a full look at her outfit. Genevieve was fully dressed for the gala as well, wearing a striking, vibrant lemon-yellow gown. It was a flared, halter-neck style made of flowing chiffon, featuring a plunging neckline that boldly exposed her cleavage while the wide, pleated skirt gathered gracefully around her ankles. The bright color stood out brilliantly against her smooth dark skin and long, straight hair.

I agree almost hesitant. If she dressed inappropriately for a billionaire kid, I could always change her. "You're the best. Mommy never lets me do it." She says giving me a small peck before running off to her walk in closet. I went to my room next to hers and pulled out a shoulder strap red dress, which excellently defined my curves. It was a little tight enough to highlight my boobs and ass. It perfectly highlighted my house glass figure. This was the only decent thing I had to wear to the gala if it was full of filthy rich people and billionaires.

And I immediately became on guard. “Try this on,” she said. “You’ll wear it for the birthday gala.” “I have my own wardrobe” I answered sharply, But she barely listened to me. Unzipping the bag, my breath caught. It was a dress. Not just any dress. It was a masterpiece, an elegant, seductive, and made to break necks. It was the colour of Deep crimson silk gown. That would fit like a magnet to anyone that wears it. “You’ll need to perform well that night,” the woman added sharply, eyes like daggers. “He will be watching. And so will be all the important people of Abuja. Don't disappoint this masterpiece.”

The attraction and need to have him close only grew till it became painful for her to bear. As she stepped into the white gown she had chosen for the occasion, Ophelia sighed. The dress was a stunning crepe gown with a subtle stretch that fits like a glove! The sharp, full sleeves with small slits at the wrists and a curvy fit and flare hem create an interesting silhouette, while the thigh high split and bow back detail add an ultra-feminine touch. The small bow was placed just below her neck, and the back was open. It was the airline's annual gala, and she had no choice but to attend since it was her first year with the company. She wanted to look presentable and had touched her face up wit