Chapter 8 Terms & Conditions

Zolina's POV

The sound of Snooze by SZA played lowly in the car, the bassline thrumming under my skin, giving me the urge to turn up the volume. I resisted-because letting Eros Esposito think I was getting comfortable in his presence? Absolutely not.

After literally dragging me away from the club like some caveman claiming his spoil, he ushered me to his car and had appointed himself my unwilling chauffeur for the night. Now, I sat stubbornly facing the window, refusing to acknowledge the way his veins flexed along his forearms as he shifted gears. It was infuriating. Almost as infuriating as the way my pulse kicked up every time his sleeve brushed against me.

"What about Eva? How is she getting home?" I finally broke the silence, turning slightly to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He glanced at me and looked back at the road. "She's in safe hands, don't worry."

"Whose hands?"

"Mine."

I scoffed. "You're literally here."

"And I have people." Of course he did. Billionaires and their people.

I know she must have been worried when she couldn't reach me. My phone died when I went to the washroom. I sighed and turned back towards the window, giving myself a mental reminder to call her back when I get home.

Speaking of home, how does Eros know where I live? I notice the familiar route to my apartment complex. "How do you know where I live? " Evara didn't tell me her brother was a stalker. "I know everything. I have my ways," he tells me with that infuriating smug look on his face. "Stalker."

I roll my eyes and notice his hands tightening on the steering wheel. Mmh. Someone seems to be irritated when I roll my eyes, but who cares? I chuckle lowly. So the great Eros Esposito didn't like being dismissed. Good to know.

We arrive, and I pick up my clutch and hurry to leave the tension-filled car. I step out, getting ready to high-tail it out of there. "Ms. Lanconi," I stop in my tracks and swiftly turn around to face him. He was leaning on the side of the car with his hands stuffed in his slacks like he owned the world.

"In two days, you'll be meeting with my lawyer to sign the contract," he said casually, like it wasn't a big deal. "Wait-are you being serious?" I couldn't believe it. "Deadly." His gaze locked onto mine." Don't be late, and don't disappoint me. He'll be in touch," he says, then turns around to get back in the car.

Something reckless surged in me. Before I could stop myself, I marched forward and hugged him.

The second my body pressed against his, his entire frame went rigid. I expected him to shove me off-Evara had warned me he hated physical contact-but instead, after a stunned beat, his hand came up, patting my back awkwardly. Like I was a child who'd scraped her knee.

"Thank you," I mumbled, already pulling away before the heat of him could seep into my skin.

His expression was unreadable. "Don't make me regret this, Zolina." I fled before my traitorous body could do something even stupider.

After I get done with showering and as I'm doing my skin care night routine, I remember what Eva told me about Eros not liking physical contact. I pause mid-applying my lip scrub, recalling that Eros didn't even push me away and instead patted my back like a child. What was that supposed to mean? Evara can't be wrong because she knows him better than anyone, and she wouldn't lie about him not liking physical contact. So maybe he's warming up to me? No, I don't think so. We both hate each other. Maybe he was caught off guard and didn't know how to react. Yeah, maybe that.

I get dressed in my silk pajamas and head to bed.

_______

The bell at the top of the entrance of the café chimed, indicating that someone had entered. Yesterday I received a call from Eros' lawyer informing me that the contract was ready and I was required to meet up with him at this cafe.

I make my way through the cafe to the counter. I order myself a matcha, then turn around to look for the lawyer among the seated customers. I stopped a man dressed in a brown suit with one hand raised, looking directly at me. I tell the cashier to bring my order to the table, then head towards him.

"Good morning, Ms.Lanconi. It's nice to meet you," he stands up to shake my hand with a firm grip, then ushers me to take the seat across from him. "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. ..." "Antonio Salvador."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Salvador," I say politely, giving him a closed smile. Eros' lawyer seemed to be in his mid-to-late thirties and was an Italian man. You could tell from his heavy accent and, of course, his surname.

"Mr. Esposito sent me to present you with the investment contract for signing, and you are welcome to ask any questions concerning it." He gets a small stack of papers from his briefcase at the chair on his left, then hands it to me, urging me to read it. The waitress appears with my drink and places it on the table. "Thank you," I tell her, then go back to looking at the contents of the contract.

In the signature section, I noticed that Eros had already signed on his part, which left my part blank. "Where exactly is Mr. Esposito? I see his signature here, but aren't we supposed to go through it and sign it together? I'm confused," I glance up at him with questions in my eyes.

"Well, Mr. Esposito is indisposed, Ms. Lanconi. He is currently attending a last-minute meeting in England. He had signed the contract prior to his departure, then instructed me to present it to you for signing," he explains, and I just nod my head, going back to continue going through the contract. I don't know why I even wanted him to be here in the first place.

After a couple of minutes, I could confirm that everything was legit and legal, then signed the contract and gave it back to him. "You and Mr. Esposito get to keep a copy each. Sir also requested me to hand you the key to your new workshop. Archeion owns a design loft in the Burj Vista. Fully equipped. Industrial machines, cutting tables, fitting rooms."

Antonio takes out a gold key from his pocket and slides it to me across the table. "How did he know I don't have a workspace?" I inquired, turning the key around in my palm. "This is Mr. Esposito we are talking about. He knows everything. Good luck, Ms. Lanconi, and congratulations, "he gets up, shakes my hand, and makes his way out of the café after picking up his briefcase.

A few minutes later, I'm done drinking my matcha, and as I'm getting up to leave, my phone starts ringing. It displays an unknown number on the screen. Reluctantly, I swipe accept and then place it by my ear.

"Hello, who's this?" I ask the caller.

"Ms. Lanconi, I got the information that the meeting went well. I hope you are ready to work with me." My breath hitched. The caller was Eros.

"How did you get my number, Esposito?" A low chuckle. "I have my ways." Of course he did. The man probably had a team of private investigators on speed dial.

"Make good use of the workshop, Zolina. It wasn't cheap." "I have what I need to start. I don't need your workshop," I said defiantly. "Tell me-do you have a proper workspace? Tailors? Textile suppliers?"

The questions came rapid-fire, each one striking at my unpreparedness. My two-bedroom apartment barely qualified as a design space, and my list of contacts was... evolving.

"You don't have any." He sighs. "You can't build a luxury brand sewing samples in your living room, Zolina."

"Because I don't invest in half-measures, use that key. And if you fail, I want it to be from lack of talent, not resources." The challenge hung between us, sharp as the stilettos digging into my feet.

I pocketed the keys with a slow smile. "Don't worry, Esposito. I plan to make you a very rich man."

His laugh was low, dangerous. "We'll see if your talent matches your audacity."

The unspoken challenge hung between us, electric and dangerous.

Game on.