wip · Y/n story by @sunnyxxbunnyxx

The Milanese runway show was in full swing, golden light carving through the haze of dry ice. The audience was a blur of front-row royalty—editors with sharp cheekbones, influencers with sharper elbows—all craning necks toward the next reveal.

Leon Devereux

standing near the curtain, arms crossed, voice clipped Where is she?

A frazzled assistant nearly collided with a rack of sequined gowns. The assistant pointed toward the far corner.

Assistant

She’s here, sir. She arrived early. Very early.

Leon Devereux

Good. I want her on schedule. pauses, eyes narrowing Which one is she?

He scanned the swarm of models. But his gaze snagged on a figure who wasn't mid-crisis, wasn't fidgeting, wasn't checking a phone. She stood apart, back straight, a vintage fur draped over one shoulder like a royal robe, while a stylist knelt at her feet, adjusting the strap of a stiletto.

Leon Devereux

murmurs That one.

Stylist

kneeling, voice trembling The clasp is secure, ma’am.

The model didn’t look down. She lifted one hand, finger flicking, and a second assistant rushed forward with a glass of chilled water. She took a sip, handed it back, and never once broke the line of her perfect posture.