The Fashion Gala
1652 Words
Chapter 6 — The Fashion Gala
Cape Town glittered beneath the evening lights as luxury cars lined the entrance of the Grand Sapphire Hotel.
Cameras flashed endlessly outside while celebrities, business executives, designers, models, and wealthy socialites stepped onto the blue carpet in expensive gowns and tailored suits.
Inside, the atmosphere sparkled with elegance.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings while soft violin music floated through the ballroom. Waiters moved gracefully between guests carrying champagne and expensive wine.
Tonight was one of the biggest fashion events in the city.
And everyone important had arrived.
Backstage, however, chaos ruled.
“Where are the silver heels?”
“Fix her makeup!”
“No, the lighting needs changing!”
Amara stood near the mirrors trying to calm her breathing while models rushed around her.
Her hands felt freezing despite the warmth of the room.
“You look terrified,” Veronica said while adjusting a model’s dress.
“I am terrified.”
Veronica laughed softly.
“Good. Fear means this matters to you.”
Amara looked down at the elegant emerald dress displayed on the mannequin beside her.
It was her design.
Modern African luxury blended with traditional beadwork and bold structure.
Her best work yet.
Still, anxiety clawed at her chest.
“What if people hate it?”
Veronica turned toward her sharply.
“Then they’re blind.”
Before Amara could answer, one of the assistants rushed backstage excitedly.
“Mr Henry just arrived!”
The room instantly reacted.
“Oh my God.”
“They said international buyers came with him.”
“And Jake Henry too.”
Several women giggled immediately at the mention of Jake’s name.
Amara frowned slightly.
“What’s the obsession with this Jake person?”
Veronica looked amused.
“You seriously don’t know?”
“I know he owns jewelry companies and clubs.”
“And he’s rich.”
“That too.”
Veronica leaned closer dramatically.
“He’s also ridiculously attractive.”
Amara rolled her eyes.
“Women lose intelligence around handsome rich men.”
Veronica burst out laughing.
“You’ll fit perfectly into this industry.”
Meanwhile downstairs, Jake Henry stepped into the ballroom beside his father.
The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.
People greeted them carefully.
Respectfully.
The Henry name carried enormous influence in Cape Town.
Jake adjusted his black suit while scanning the room with bored eyes.
Women noticed him instantly.
As always.
Tall.
Sharp jawline.
Dark eyes.
Dangerous confidence.
Jake attracted attention effortlessly, though lately he found it exhausting.
“Smile at least once tonight,” Mr Henry muttered beside him.
Jake grabbed a champagne glass from a passing waiter.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You look like you’re attending a funeral.”
“Maybe I am.”
Mr Henry sighed quietly.
Since Teresa disappeared, Jake carried permanent irritation around him.
And tonight would only worsen his mood.
Fashion events bored him.
Fake conversations bored him.
Pretending bored him most of all.
“Behave yourself,” Mr Henry warned calmly.
Jake smirked faintly.
“You say that like I’m a child.”
“You certainly act like one.”
Before Jake could respond, several investors approached them warmly.
For the next hour, Jake endured endless business conversations while trying not to lose patience.
Then the fashion showcase finally began.
The ballroom lights dimmed while music filled the runway area.
Models stepped out wearing luxurious designs from Cape Town’s top creatives.
Jake barely paid attention initially.
Until one particular dress appeared.
Emerald green.
Elegant.
Powerful.
Unlike the overly dramatic designs before it, this one carried something different.
Confidence.
His eyes followed the model automatically.
Interesting.
Beside him, Mr Henry noticed too.
“Beautiful craftsmanship,” he admitted quietly.
Jake nodded slightly.
“For once, something original.”
Moments later, the designer responsible stepped onto the stage briefly for acknowledgment.
And Jake looked up.
Everything around him paused for half a second.
Amara Dlamini stood beneath the spotlight wearing a simple black dress that somehow made every glamorous woman in the room disappear.
Natural curls framed her face beautifully while quiet confidence rested in her posture.
Not fake confidence.
Real confidence.
The kind that came from surviving life without needing validation.
Jake stared longer than intended.
She wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
That alone made her different.
Beside him, Mr Henry noticed immediately.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Amara smiled politely at the audience before quickly leaving the stage again.
Jake’s eyes followed her without thinking.
Then she disappeared backstage.
“Who is she?” he asked casually.
Mr Henry hid his amusement carefully.
“A designer.”
“No kidding.”
One of the fashion coordinators nearby overheard them.
“That’s Amara Dlamini,” she explained eagerly. “New talent from Khanyisa Studio.”
Jake took another sip of champagne slowly.
Amara Dlamini.
The name settled strangely in his mind.
Later that evening, the ballroom transformed into a networking event filled with conversation, music, and business deals.
Amara stood near the dessert table trying not to look overwhelmed.
This world felt so different from her normal life.
Luxury everywhere.
Diamonds.
Expensive laughter.
People pretending too hard.
“You look uncomfortable.”
The deep male voice startled her slightly.
Amara turned around and nearly sighed immediately.
Tall.
Handsome.
Expensive suit.
Arrogant eyes.
Definitely wealthy.
Exactly her least favorite type of man.
Jake held a champagne glass casually while studying her with open curiosity.
“And you look overly confident,” she replied calmly.
That response caught him off guard instantly.
Most women either flirted immediately or became nervous around him.
She did neither.
Interesting.
Jake smirked faintly.
“I’m Jake.”
“I know.”
“Most people sound more excited about that.”
Amara picked up a strawberry from the dessert table.
“Most people are easier to impress.”
Jake almost laughed.
Definitely interesting.
“You designed the emerald dress.”
“Yes.”
“It was good.”
“Only good?”
Jake stepped slightly closer.
“Fine. It was exceptional.”
Amara nodded once.
“Thank you.”
Jake waited.
Usually this was where women smiled too much, asked personal questions, or tried keeping his attention.
Instead, Amara calmly grabbed a drink and looked around the ballroom as though she might leave any second.
“You don’t seem very interested in me,” Jake observed.
Amara finally looked directly at him again.
“Should I be?”
That answer amused him more than it should have.
“You always answer questions with questions?”
“Only when people ask arrogant ones.”
Jake stared at her carefully for a moment.
Then he smiled slightly.
A real smile this time.
And somehow that irritated Amara even more because it made him unfairly attractive.
Dangerous combination.
Good looks and ego.
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “You’re used to women throwing themselves at you.”
Jake shrugged calmly.
“It happens.”
“And you enjoy it.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Amara laughed softly.
“No. I prefer conversations with substance.”
Jake raised an eyebrow.
“You think I lack substance?”
“I think rich men usually confuse money with personality.”
For the first time in a long while, Jake genuinely looked entertained.
Across the ballroom, Mr Henry and Mr Maloi quietly watched the interaction.
“There,” Mr Maloi murmured softly. “Look carefully.”
Mr Henry smiled slightly.
“She’s not intimidated.”
“Exactly.”
Back near the dessert table, Jake leaned against the counter casually.
“So what’s your story, Amara Dlamini?”
“My story?”
“You don’t seem like someone who belongs in rooms like this.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Amara’s expression cooled.
“There it is.”
Jake frowned slightly.
“There what is?”
“The superiority.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Really?” Amara crossed her arms calmly. “Because it sounded exactly like every wealthy man who assumes success only belongs to people born rich.”
Jake’s jaw tightened slightly.
“You’re making assumptions.”
“And you’re making judgments.”
For several seconds, tension crackled between them.
Jake wasn’t used to being challenged this directly.
Especially not by someone who looked at him without fear.
“You know,” Amara continued calmly, “money may buy influence, Mr Henry, but it doesn’t make you better than everyone else.”
Jake looked almost impressed now.
“You always attack strangers this confidently?”
“Only the arrogant ones.”
To Jake’s surprise, he laughed quietly.
A real laugh.
Unexpected.
Amara looked slightly caught off guard by it too.
Then suddenly a blonde socialite approached Jake dramatically.
“There you are!” she purred while touching his arm possessively. “I’ve been searching everywhere.”
Jake’s expression immediately became bored again.
“Vanessa.”
The woman finally noticed Amara standing there.
Her eyes quickly judged Amara’s simpler dress and humble jewelry.
“Oh,” she said dismissively. “I didn’t realize you were busy.”
Amara noticed the attitude instantly and almost rolled her eyes.
Jake noticed too.
Without thinking, he said calmly, “We were having an interesting conversation.”
Vanessa looked shocked.
Clearly, Jake Henry rarely described conversations with women as interesting.
“Well,” Vanessa forced a smile, “your father wanted you.”
Jake looked irritated.
“Of course he does.”
Amara stepped back slightly.
“You should go.”
Jake looked at her.
“You’re dismissing me already?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Amara smiled faintly.
“Because men like you are usually trouble.”
The answer hit him unexpectedly hard.
Before he could respond, she walked away gracefully into the crowd.
Jake watched her disappear between guests.
For the first time in months—
A woman had walked away from him voluntarily.
And instead of anger…
He felt curious.
- Writer
