Grand Galloping Gala Dresses Novels & Stories

“What style do you want for the event? I have a list of dresses that would look breathtaking on you.” “Can I see them?” She asked, still in awe of the woman before her. She had watched and admired her from afar. Cassian made it possible for her to sit in the same room as her. “Sure. VIP treatments for our VIP clients. Mr. Vale paid in full, all expenses duly covered. So expect the best from us.” She turned on the laptop she brought with her. She started pointing out the dresses one after another as pictures appeared on the screen. “This is the Lilano Dress, the one the first lady of Morvane wore to the Allure Gala last year. We made the dress, and we can do something similar if you’re willin

I exhaled shakily, choosing to ignore him and take a bath for my preparation. *** The gala was nothing short of luxury, a scene far from my reality. Landon had insisted I go all out, and for once, I listened. My dress sculpted my body like it had been stitched with nothing but sin, secrets and desires, every shimmer of fabric catching the spotlight just right. My hair tumbled down my back in rich, glossy mermaid curls. I didn’t just look good, I looked like trouble wrapped in elegance. And I had to admit I blended right in this time.

Was there still room in my packed schedule to learn and grow? “You look stunning,” Raven said, his voice warm as I turned to show him my gown for the Gala. The crimson red dress hugged my curves perfectly, its mermaid cut flowing elegantly to the floor with a subtle slit for ease of movement. The off-shoulder design featured cape sleeves adorned with intricate embroidered spirals and shimmering gems that caught the light with every step. It was breathtaking—and undoubtedly expensive. “Are these real?” I asked, gesturing to the gems that sparkled like stars against the fabric.

I muttered, not saying in what way. Cassandra leafed through a selection of dresses. “You’ll need something that screams ‘future Mrs. Thorne’ and danger bitch princess. Can’t have you looking like another one of Mother’s porcelain dolls.” I stood in the middle of the dressing room in, looking around with nothing to do. The clothes were not what I usually would wear, but this gala seem to be something that everybody was going crazy about. For an hour we had been going through dresses and nothing here fits. “I think I’ll stay back home,” I said.

She exclaimed, forgetting her vow not to let anyone knows who she was. "Your funny, Senorita. You're a bit strange but adorable." Maya grinned at her. "Let's go party!" Despite what happened, she was in high spirit. The beautiful gown called traje de mestiza has an embroidered top with small flowers stitched to it. The skirt has the same intricate floral pattern but in the color of yellow and green. When she wore it, it felt good, and she felt like she was back in school when they dressed up for National Costume Day. She bet her sister would be green in envy when she saw this gown.

I don't want to ruin the night. As to what that anonymous guy instructed in the letter. I wore my navy blue tube dress with a pretty necklace that has a V pendant on it. I also covered my bruises with concealers and I finished about almost an hour covering it all up because its all over my body now and it even got bigger than before. If this was normal, I would've looked like a battered daughter because of the bruises I have in my body. Thankfully that's not the case. "Hey, are you nervous?" I heard Mal asking me. I was thinking too much I didn't even notice we'd arrived at the grand theatre.

I’ve intentionally waited until literally the last possible minute to say a single word to Cade, knowing that a premature confrontation would only result in him locking the deadbolts and turning this mansion into an absolute tomb. I stand in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the heavy fabric of my dress. I’ve chosen the royal blue gown from the boutique. The one with the daring sweetheart neckline and form-fitting silhouette. At twelve weeks, the plush fabric clings tightly to my curves, highlighting the soft, undeniable contour of my changing waistline. I’ve swept my hair into a neat, elaborate bun, leaving a few dark strands to frame my face, and applied a sharp wing of black

THE GALA The night gleamed with the kind of precision only the wealthy could afford. The Vaughn Foundation’s Annual Business Gala—white marble floors, chandeliers dripping with gold light, a symphony whispering through the air like money in motion. Amara Voss stepped into it as though she owned the place. Her gown was black satin, cut like sin and silence. The neckline modest, the back scandalous. Every head that turned her way paused for a beat too long, but she didn’t notice—or perhaps she did, and simply didn’t care. Her focus was elsewhere.

At least food didn’t lie to you. By early evening, I was home, showered, and standing in front of my closet, contemplating what to wear to the gala. Black. Always black for these events. It was elegant, safe, and somehow, a shield. I chose a black velvet gown with a low back and a neckline that said I wasn’t here to be sweet — I was here to be noticed. A swipe of red lipstick, silver drop earrings, and a diamond cuff bracelet Calix had given me months ago.

She blushed. I held her hands as we walked to the door and opened it for her. She went through first, and my breath caught in my throat. Her back was bare, glowing under the light. I stood frozen, as I watched her walk. I thought I had seen all about the dress but this? She was going to turn heads. I was going to be with the prettiest woman in the room. The gala was held at The Belleview Suites, a rival hotel that had done anything and everything to outshine The Montgomery Grand.