Vogue | Tony Stark

SEVEN - THE PARTY

"Esté? Everything alright?"

After an incredibly busy day of preparing the house for the party amongst laughing about old memories that cropped up in every corner of the property, eight o'clock in the evening had eventually rolled around.

Estélla had been upstairs getting ready since six-thirty and was yet to greet her guests downstairs, of which there were at least forty by the time Tony decided to go and check on his friend at a quarter to nine.

He had been busy downstairs welcoming the guests that had arrived and mingling with them, sharing drinks and shaking hands. It was a nice surprise to see a handful of faces he actually knew, too. He happily explained to everyone that he and Esté had known each other for years, the unlikely friendship sparking a multitude of questions from guests that night.

Esté pulled the bedroom door open with haste, revealing her flushed cheeks and perfectly curled hair, red lips and black lined blue eyes.

"Can you zip me, please? I've been trying to do it myself for twenty minutes."

Tony just laughed and followed her into her room, pushing the door closed behind him. The room hadn't changed much from what he remembered, the walls still being painted the same pale blue and the paintings framed in the same tarnished gold. The house was decorated in entirely different taste to their Manhattan home, but it suited the ocean-front property perfectly.

Esté was holding up the neck of a white mini dress with her arm across her collarbones, feet flat on the wooden floor as a pair of white Louboutins sat idly beside the end of the bed.

She turned around and scraped her hair into her hand, twisting it around her fingers and holding it up above her neck. Tony leant backwards and narrowed his eyes, gently pulling the silver zip up the rest of the way.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh before walking over to a weathered chest of brown drawers and grabbing a bottle of perfume, "Is everything OK downstairs?"

She spritzed the perfume across her skin and through her hair before checking her appearance in a long mirror by the window, the light of a crescent moon and a million stars shining through the glass.

"Yeah everything's fine, people have been asking for you but I told them you were just finishing up getting ready, nobody seemed to mind."

Esté slipped on her heels and turned to him with a deep exhale, concern evident in her wide eyes and downturned lips, "Do I look alright? I feel like I never look as good when I do my own makeup."

Her long legs were bronzed with a shimmer down her shins, the same gold tint reflected sparkles on her arms and across her shoulders. Her hair was blowdried and curled the same way it usually was, framing her face perfectly. Sharp cheekbones sat high on her face and her eyes sleek with winged liner, the deep red lip complementing the all-white outfit generously.

Esté looked beautiful, she always did, she always had done. Tony had listened to her complaining about her hair and her teeth, her nose and the dimples she got when she smiled since she was old enough to notice those things, and even at the tender age of ten years old, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You do know you're literally a supermodel, right?" He said with a raised brow, looking her up and down with his hands clasped behind his back.

Esté just rolled her eyes and tilted her head, "I'm being serious, Tony. Do I look OK? I get nervous styling myself now when I'm so used to having someone pick my clothes out for me and do my hair and makeup."

Tony's lips pulled to the side in a small smirk as he nodded once with a slow blink, his voice low and gentle, "You look beautiful, Estélla. The dress is perfect, your hair is perfect, your makeup is perfect, you are perfect."