Grand Galloping Gala Dresses Novels & Stories

Hanging from the rack, covered in thick protective plastic, was the dress for the Gala. It was ridiculous. It was easily a hundred-thousand-dollar couture gown, covered in hand-stitched crystals and dark, heavy silk. It looked like something a literal queen would wear to a coronation. "Mr. Vance requested I bring this to your suite to try on, Miss," the maid said quietly, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. I just stared at the fabric glittering under the plastic. It didn't look like a party dress to me. It looked like a very expensive, very sparkly bullseye.

Soft jazz flowed beneath the hum of expensive laughter and clinking champagne glasses. Massive chandeliers above glittered like constellations, reflecting off glass walls and mirrored floors. Everywhere I turned, there were flashes of sequins, camera lights, and silk. This was not just a gala. It was the moment, and Adrian had made sure I was dressed for it. The Glamour Gala was every designer’s dream and every competitor’s battlefield. People chatted in low tones, most of them in their elements, but I couldn't help feeling a little out of place.

Their perfume mingled in the air with the scent of champagne. When Anna Holland stepped in, she turned heads instantly. Her red dress was very unique and beautiful. The fitted top and flowing skirt suited her perfectly. The way the golden embroidery was stitched on it, was proof enough that a genius made it. It was the creation of Scarlet Fashions, guided by Sylvania’s hands. “Is she the queen of the Gala?” Someone whispered. “That dress is from the books. Only legends wear it.” Another added. Anna lifted her chin with pride, and she smiled. Conversations continued as she passed; even the most seasoned moguls paused in their discussions to steal a glance. The cameras from the press clicked r

"No, I am. I'm just confused as to why you're making me wear this." He pulled the dress back slowly. "If you don't like the color, I can ask my sister for another one. But she isn't quite your size, so it may be a little big. We can pin it, though." "No." I waved my hands. "Rashid, the color's beautiful. But why do you want me to wear all of this? It looks expensive." He snorted. "Well, of course, it is. This gala has many high-profile people going to it. I can't have you looking like you walked out of a consignment shop."

“Fine doesn’t get you anywhere. You need to come out tonight. Charity gala. Dominic’s company is sponsoring it. You’ll see faces, mingle… maybe remind him why he’s married to you.” Her teasing made my chest tighten, a little pang I couldn’t quite identify. Fine was comfortable, predictable. Gala… gala was… not. I tried to convince myself of that as I got ready later that afternoon, the city lights twinkling behind the tall windows of our apartment. I chose a simple but elegant black dress, the one that made my collarbones stand out and felt grown-up without being overly flashy.

Haze's dress for the gala was a breathtaking creation in a mesmerizing sky-blue hue. The gown gracefully cascaded down to the floor, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication. Its flowing silhouette accentuated Haze's slender figure, hugging her curves in all the right places. Adorned with delicate diamond embellishments, the dress shimmered and sparkled as if reflecting the starry night sky. The diamonds formed intricate patterns along the bodice, adding a touch of glamour and capturing the light with every movement.

But I guess I’ll just have to wait until we meet at the gala. I unzip the garment bag. Inside is an elegant, black structured dress with a side slit. It’s soon time. Dave drives me to the gala. It’s a sea of black ties, champagne flutes, and the suffocating scent of old and new money. I walk in, wearing this scandalous dress that clings to every curve, backless, highlighting the faint, disappearing love bites Zayn had left on my shoulders. All eyes are on me, cameras flashing.

She looked absolutely exquisite, and I was very much looking forward to whatever dress she was wearing tonight. I had forced Mom and Dad to include Myla, Cleo, and Alison, who I was just getting to know, in our dress order for the gala being held at the castle to celebrate not only Rowan's coronation but mine and Troy's. It was a huge ask, but I had gotten my way, and now all of the women in my circle would be decked out in brand-new gowns and shoes for the event. Keaton, however, had refused to let Ethan pay for Myla's gown. He had purchased something for her himself, and its design was a secret. Keaton had agreed to come to the gala, mostly at Myla's urging.

I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Mr. Grayson paid forty thousand dollars for that dress," she said flatly, checking a sleek tablet in her hand. "And I need to make sure it fits perfectly. We have exactly four hours before the Gala. Strip, please." My jaw dropped. I had never experienced anything like this in my life. Before I could even protest, the woman waved her hand, and the assistants moved in like a well-trained military unit.

She tried the other dresses and went out to show them. Faith did not like any of them. Either they were too tight, or showed too much skin. The colours were too bold for her. The girl staff from earlier was also there to keep them assistance. She kept giving Faith pitiful glances as she kept on trying on dresses. Caren and Winter did not have anything good to day either. They heavily criticised Faith for not looking beautiful in the dresses that are worthy of being worn at the Gala. Faith did not talk back or say that she was uncomfortable. It was Dea's orders after all. Faith did not have nay say in the dress she would have to wear at the Gala. So what was the use of calling her off work be