Your Star (Vox x reader)

14

Luckily, I managed to make it home without any other incidents. My fatigued body was practically begging me to get some sleep, but I decided to stay up and sketch a rough design of the suit Vox asked for. It was nothing flashy but rather a perfect combination of sophisticated and simple. While I know he's the kind of guy who likes attention, I made sure not to go overboard. 

Once I put down my pencil, decently satisfied with the result, I tiredly shuffled to my bed and flopped onto the soft mattress. The moment I closed my eyes, I fell into a deep sleep.

⋆⋆⋆

After what felt like a measly hour, the ringing of my alarm wakes me up. I sit upright with a groggy sigh, stretching my arms. I take a minute to fully grasp a conscious state, gazing lazily at the envelope sitting on my nightstand. Reaching for it, I stare down at the rectangular paper in my hands. My fingers brush open the flap and slide out the check. I'm not sure why I expected the number to have magically changed overnight, but I needed a double-take. The last thing I expected was a 'reward' for my hard work— not after my slip-up at the meeting. I could've sworn he was angry with me since then. Maybe he's trying to win back some trust. Or, he may plan on using it against me. The possibilities are endless, but in the meantime, playing along is in my best interest.

I place the envelope back onto the table and slip out of bed to get dressed. At the photo shoot, Velvette told me I didn't need to come to work today, so thankfully, I don't have any conflict in terms of getting those measurements from Vox. If all works out, I should have everything finished by late tonight. 

Gathering my phone and the suit design into a bag, I leave for work.

⋆⋆⋆

I knock my hand against the door of Vox's office a few times, awaiting an answer as I brush my shirt sleeve with my hand. Eventually, I receive a response, "Come in."

At his words, I open the door and step inside, shutting it behind me. I face him, noticing how he types on the computer on his desk with a stern expression, a glass of what I presume to be whiskey to his right.

"Is now a good time? I can come back later if that's more convenient for you," I say with slight uncertainty as I watch him work.

He suddenly closes the computer, turning his attention to me as he stands from his chair. "I'm not busy with anything important."

I nod, approaching him and opening my bag to pull out the piece of paper with the sketch. I place it on his desk. "This is what I came up with. Is there anything you want changed, or did you have something else in mind?"

He takes the paper in his hands, his reaction undepictable as he studies it. "No, it's good. I'm surprised you already designed it."

"I figured I would get it over with last night so I could get your input," I explain plainly as if my sleep deprivation is nonexistent. 

His gaze lingers on the paper, and he raises his free hand to take a sip from the glass of whiskey. He then sets them both down. "I didn't expect any less of you. So, you're here for measurements, correct?"

"Yeah, It shouldn't take long. I only need a few," I assure.

I watch attentively as he slides his suit off one arm after the other, leaving him in his red and black vest. He places it on the chair's arm, walking around the desk to stand in front of me. My eyes trail over his lean figure, and I find myself checking him out. Quickly, I avert my gaze to his face, mentally cursing myself for thinking in such a way. In my defense, he's only ever worn a suit, and I'm just taken aback— that's all. Let me repeat myself, that is all.

He seems to notice my silence and raises a brow. "Is something distracting you, y/n?"

I blink into reality, slightly embarrassed as I feel caught. "Sorry, I zoned out for a moment," I breathe out a weak excuse for a lie and place my bag on his desk to rummage through it.