Vogue | Tony Stark

ONE - THE HOLIDAYS

Tony was in heaven. Whether it was the models with legs that didn't seem to end or the supply of free champagne that didn't seem to either, Tony Stark felt as though he was living through some kind of fever dream, a figment of his wildest imagination.

It was Christmastime and although Tony was usually adverse to attending parties since they were never as good as the ones he hosted himself, a personal invitation from Anna Wintour to the Vogue Christmas Party that holiday season was one he knew he couldn't ignore.

To no surprise, the event was hosted on the top floor of a building in upper Manhattan with a bar and private restaurant even Tony had never stepped foot in before. He was impressed by the impeccable silver service and timeless, sophisticated Christmas decorations that gave the place a festive feel, thin strings of green and red laced through an otherwise strictly black tie -looking occasion.

Windows overlooked the city and the East River as snow continued to fall, though rain from the previous two days meant that the water melted away any of the white attempting to cover New York that night, puddles reflecting the glowing holiday decorations strung between buildings and from department store windows.

He had attended the party that evening with Rhodey as his plus one, though the colonel had disappeared a considerable amount of time ago by that point. Tony wasn't worried, however, knowing that he was probably tied up with the hot blonde he'd spent the entire dinner staring at across their table.

Polished up to the nines in an expensive Brioni tux and bow tie, Tony had caught the eye of a steady stream of beautiful women that evening, all of whom made conversation about his Cartier cuff links and Patek Philippe watch, though barely listened to anything he said until he offered to top up their champagne.

Of course, Tony wasn't particularly interested in talking about those things either, though he did get a kick out of making women blush with complements and a tactical narrowing of his eyes, a tug of a smirk on his lips or a lowering of his tone, seduction slipping into their conversation easier than day slipped into night.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies, I'll be back in a moment." Tony said, rising to his feet and gesturing to the empty champagne glass in his hands, "While I'm gone, I'll be thinking of a number between one and five. Why don't you try guess what it is?"

"Don't be too long," one of the women said, a pretty red-head in a white dress who was sipping on a glass of Merlot.

"We'll be waiting," the other winked, a glamorous blonde with a dazzling smile and heels higher than the building they were in.

Once his back was turned, Tony let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, almost laughing to himself in disbelief as he made his way across the room.

He'd never been short of attention from women, though that particular evening had been nothing shy of a frenzy, at least that's what it had felt like to Tony, barely having a moment to speak to anybody he actually knew before his head was turned by another sweet hello from a new face.

After taking a detour to the bathroom, Tony headed towards the bar, a fire inside his stomach from the excitement of the evening that he would absolutely continue to fuel without regret.

He stopped in his tracks when a woman stood alone grabbed his focus, forcing him to tilt his head and squint ten meters ahead of him, wondering whether he was seeing clearly or if he'd had far too much alcohol that his mind had started playing tricks on him.

"Martini please, make it dirty."

The party was loud and conversations were infiltrating Tony's ears from every direction possible, though the sound of her voice was unmistakable, and so were the direction of his footsteps immediately afterward.