Chapter 9 Peace Interrupted

Zolina's POV

The loft was everything Eros had promised-and more. Sunlight poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the polished concrete floors and high ceilings. The space was massive-easily three times the size of my apartment-with designated areas for cutting tables, sewing stations, and even a fitting room tucked into the corner. Industrial-grade machines gleamed under the track lighting, and a wall of empty shelves waited to be filled with fabrics and trims.

I walked through slowly, my heels clicking against the floor, my mind already racing with possibilities. The sewing stations here... the cutting tables there... mood boards on that far wall...It was perfect.

But there was no way I could do this alone. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, stopping at the one name I knew I could trust.

Zolina: Hey. Are you still looking for work?

The reply came almost instantly.

Massimo: For you? Always.

I grinned. Massimo had been my mentor back in Milan-one of the few people who actually believed in my designs before anyone else did. He was also, without question, the most skilled tailor I'd ever met.

Zolina: Good. Because I just got a loft in Burj Vista and I need you.

Massimo: ...Burj Vista? Who did you rob?

Zolina: Worse. I made a deal with Eros Esposito.

There was a long pause.

Massimo: I'll book a flight.

I laughed, shaking my head. This was happening. Really happening. And I wasn't about to waste a single second of it.

_________

It had been a couple of days since I signed the contract with Esposito, and to say I was glad I hadn't heard from him would be the understatement of the century. The silence was bliss. No blunt questions, no piercing stares, no impossible expectations hovering over my every move. Just me and Alpha. My company. My dream. My rules - at least for a few glorious days.

Massimo landed in Dubai the day after I texted him. I picked him up from the airport and was met with that signature high-energy hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me. He was ecstatic- arms flying, words tumbling, sunglasses halfway off his head like he'd just stepped out of a Milanese runway show. If only he knew what he was walking into, especially now that Eros Esposito was part of the picture.

Massimo is - how do I even say this - unapologetically Massimo. Yes, he's gay. No, the name doesn't scream glitter and twink, but that's the beauty of him. He doesn't care about boxes or expectations. He's loud, proud, and the last person you'd expect. With his 6'1" frame, bulging muscles, and deep voice, women throw themselves at him left and right - only to discover he's just not into the feminine persuasion. Their disappointment? Always mildly entertaining.

I love that about him. That comfort in his own skin. That confidence to take up space exactly as he is. If the world had more Massimos, we'd all be in better shape, emotionally and aesthetically.

The moment he touched down, we went straight into Alpha mode. Between scouting spaces and brainstorming launch campaigns, I barely had time to breathe - but it felt good. Productive. Real.

Evara, naturally, self-appointed herself as our interior designer. She claimed she had a vision for the loft we were transforming into Alpha's base. I let her do her thing - because when she gets that gleam in her eye, there's no stopping her. Plus, it meant one less thing for me to stress over.

I balanced three mugs of steaming hot chocolate in my hands and made my way into the living room, where Massimo and Evara were deep in conversation.

"...Now tell me about that architect I've been hearing about," Massimo said with that cheeky grin of his. I placed the mugs on the glass coffee table and grabbed mine, sinking into the white plush couch like it was swallowing me whole.

"Oh! Zolina, how could you?!" Evara gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. "You told him about Ciro?!" I took a sip of my hot chocolate - perfectly creamy, by the way - and swallowed before answering. "Mh-mh. I did not tell that man anything."

The day after the club, Evara came over, and I couldn't resist the urge to ask her who the man she was looking at was. She told me they had a messy history together and that at one point in time, he was her potential lover, but he stopped pursuing her because of her boyfriend at the time. The guy hurt her, and this made her not trust relationships and love, even though she was still a lover girl. Because of this, Ciro decided to step back and give her time.

"Don't look at her," Massimo jumped in. "She didn't spill. I'm just a very observant person." Evara glared at him. "Nothing is going on between me and Ciro. Got that?!" I gave her the most unimpressed side-eye I could manage. "Look, maybe not now. But something did happen in the past, and it's clearly getting to you. Massimo just called it out."

Evara slumped back into the couch. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I've been avoiding him since this project started. And now... it seems like he wants to talk." Oh yes, Evara has been assigned a project of designing the interior of a building which Ciro is the lead architect.

"Oop-" Massimo perked up, eyes wide. "Wait. What really happened between you two? And is this Ciro guy hot?" That question made both of us burst out laughing.

"We have history I don't want to revisit," she said, shaking her head. "And yes, Ciro is straight, Massimo. "Okay, girl, I respect that," he said, mock-pouting. "I was just asking for scientific purposes. For the fantasy."

I stifled another giggle and wrapped my hands around my mug. "Mmh. Girl, what did you put in this?" Evara asked, peering suspiciously into her cup. "Just admit it tastes good and stop looking at it like it's laced with a sleeping pill," I said, raising a brow. "I do make a mean hot cocoa, if I do say so myself."

Massimo hummed in approval. "If Eros ever pisses you off, just poison him with this. He'll die happy."

"Noted," I said, laughing.

But just as we were settling into comfort and gossip, my phone buzzed. I checked the screen and groaned so loudly that Massimo and Evara both looked up in alarm.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at Massimo. He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm innocent! I didn't summon him." I rolled my eyes and picked up the call. "What do I owe the honor of hearing your so-called amazing voice this afternoon?" I said, sweetly laced with sarcasm.

Evara nearly choked on her drink from laughter. Eros, in that maddeningly calm voice, replied, "Your day doesn't seem pleasant this fine afternoon. Why?"

"None of your business, so spill," I snapped. Freedom had been sweet. And short-lived. "Now is that any way to speak to your business partner?" he asked smugly.

I could picture the smirk on his face. Probably leaning back in that ridiculously expensive chair, hands clasped, thinking he was God's gift to the entrepreneurial world. "I was enjoying my peace without you breathing down my neck," I said flatly. "So say what you called to say and let me get back to that peace."

Across from me, Massimo and Evara exchanged wide-eyed looks. They hadn't expected that tone, not from me. But honestly? I wasn't in the mood to tiptoe around him. Not today.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was letting my words marinate. Then came the low, deliberate reply. "I see the attitude is still intact. Good. You'll need it."

I blinked, confused. "Need it for what?"

"Come to the Archeion building. Now. Top floor. Bring your sketchbook," he said curtly, all amusement gone from his voice.

"I- What? You can't just summon me like some intern," I replied, half-exasperated, half-panicked. "I have plans."

"You'll cancel them."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll assume you're not ready for this partnership after all."

My jaw clenched. I could practically hear the arrogance dripping off every syllable.

"Fine. I'll be there in thirty."

"Make it twenty. You're already late," he said - and hung up.

I stared at my phone like it had insulted my ancestors.

Massimo raised a brow. "Well... someone clearly missed you."

"I swear I'm going to strangle him one day."

"Wouldn't be surprised if that's his love language," Evara muttered, sipping her hot chocolate.

____________________

When I arrive at the Archeion building and I am led once again to the 30th floor, the air feels heavier than usual. Eros doesn't waste time. He's pacing in front of his desk when I enter. No teasing today, no smug remarks - just focus.

"Close the door," he says. "We have a problem. Or rather... an opportunity that's about to slip through our fingers if you don't act fast."

My body stiffens. "Okay, I'm listening."

Eros walks to his desk and taps his tablet, turning it to face me. On the screen is a sleek deck titled: "Maison Dior: Emerging Talent Collaboration Pitch - 2025."

"Dior?" I breathe. He nods.

"They're launching a campaign to partner with three up-and-coming independent designers from different continents. One from Europe, one from Asia, one from the Middle East. They're scouting now, and I pulled strings to get Alpha on the shortlist - based on the sketches you submitted with your proposal."

I stare at him in disbelief. "You got Alpha on Dior's radar?"

"I pitched Alpha to Dior," he corrects. "Now it's up to you to seal the deal. There's a final round of submissions due in 72 hours. If you're chosen, they'll co-produce and debut your capsule collection at Paris Fashion Week this year."

My heart skips a beat. Paris Fashion Week. Dior. My name - my brand - on the global stage. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I ask. He looks me dead in the eyes.

"Because I wanted to see if you could handle pressure first. You passed - barely. Now, I need five final sketches and fabric breakdowns. No excuses. You're either in or you're out, Zolina."