Vogue | Tony Stark

TWENTY FIVE - INTERRUPTIONS

"The view is beautiful, Leonie, just stunning. You'd love it, glass of vintage Veuve up there at sunset, what do you say?"

"I'd say that sounds lovely, Tony."

It was the early hours of the morning by that point but the party had by no means died down. The dance floor was still packed and music was still playing, though plenty of guests had taken up residency on the sofas in the bar area, rounding off their night with several glasses of whiskey over ice.

Estélla was pretty sure she'd said hello to every single person that had attended the event that night, finally feeling relaxed enough to spend some time with her parents and Tony. The four of them were sat by a fireplace that wasn't lit, a table in between two couches that waiters kept removing empty glasses from and bringing fresh drinks to replace them.

"Tell me, Tony," George said from the couch opposite, leaning forward with his glass clinking against the signet ring on his thumb, "Are you still into cars? I remember you used to spend hours fixing up my old Cadillac back in the day."

Tony smiled with a small nod, "Absolutely. To be honest, George, I think my vintage car collection might put yours to shame now, I'll have to show you when you come over to the Tower. Hey, I might even let you test drive one if you ask nicely."

A charming wink and a point from Tony made George grin widely, laughing deeply from within at the reminder of the charisma the only Stark child had always held. George saw a lot of Howard in Tony and the guilt of not being able to attend the funerals of him and Maria had consumed him for a long time, though thankfully it was quite clear Tony didn't hold that against the Goldwyn's.

"That's the least you can do after all those summer days I spent teaching you to drive around the Hamptons, remember that?" George raised a brow.

Tony sank back against the couch and pursed his lips, a defeated smile on his face, "You're right, you're right. Tell you what, I have the sweetest 68' Mustang I've just breathed new life into. How about-"

"Tony? I was hoping I'd bump into you tonight, how are you?"

Esté looked up from beside Tony, glancing past his shoulders to see a girl she'd shared a runway with a handful of times stood swaying in six-inch heels with a martini in her hand. The guest list that night was long and not particularly exclusive since Esté wanted to raise as much money for charity as she could, and so a significant number of people on the list were people she wouldn't actually consider friends, more so acquaintances.

"Hey," Tony cleared his throat and looked up at the girl, brows furrowed, "It's uh..."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, flicking her red hair behind one shoulder while leaning her hand on the arm of the couch.

"It's Jessica," she smiled at him, not caring to acknowledge Esté or her parents who were all sat staring, "You don't remember me, do you?"

Tony's face hollowed slightly and his jaw tightened, confusion written in his eyes as he desperately tried to wrack his brains to remember who the girl was.

"It's fine," she giggled and waved her hand, "We met at the Vanderbilt party in April last year. We drank a bottle of wine and then we hooked up in the-"

"Woah, alright," Tony jumped to his feet with an awkward laugh, placing a hand on the girl's back, "Let me stop you right there. Can I get you a drink? Some water, maybe?"

Tony flashed apologetically wide eyes at Esté and her parents before ushering the girl away from their table, heading in the direction of the bar.

Esté's face was frozen in a stiff smile as she turned to look back at her parents, immediately picking up her glass of whiskey from the table and taking a large gulp to wash down the lump in her throat.