His Favorite Rival

Zolina's POV

"What's wrong, angel? You have been acting jumpy since I got here," Eros pointed out. "And don't try to pretend that you are okay because I know when you lie," he stated, which was actually the truth.

Damn! Why did I have to be such a bad liar? I mean i can't lie for shit especially not to my boss turned friend. I gulped and swallowed the lump in my throat and directed my eyes to my bedroom's carpet, which seemed to be very interesting today.

Most days, I would have been able to hold eye contact, but I was failing miserably right at this moment. I saw movement from the corner of my eye, from Eros getting up from my bed. He steadily approached, and the heat from before started rising again in my body. I felt something in my stomach tighten and my breathing quicken. No, I wasn't having a panic attack. Far from that. I was turned on by my boss. Really, turned on to the point that I felt tingles in my lower region.

Using his index finger, he tilted my head towards him and proceeded to hold my jaw in place, preventing me from looking away again. "Tell me. Now," he demanded gruffly. Swallowing again, I tried to speak. "I-I-, "nothing was coming out. "Yes, Baby girl?" He ran his thumb along my jaw.

"It's embarrassing," I whispered. "Nothing you say or do is embarrassing, angel. Talk to me. mmh? What's wrong?" His words were so soothing that my body just relaxed in his arms.

He is so good to me.

I let out the breath I was holding. "Umm, so you remember a couple of weeks before when I had my period? " I shyly asked. "Yes, I remember. I keep track of your cycle. You know this."

"What does that have to do with why you are acting like this? " He inquired with raised eyebrows. I blushed at the fact that he keeps track of my cycle. I mean, it's not news to me, but still, imagine someone, A.K.A your male best friend, knowing that you are on your period. So embarrassing.

"It's actually about what comes later on." My face had to be flaming right now if it wasn't before. OMG! This is embarrassing. And to top it all off, my body is fully aware of his right now with our proximity. "Your ovulation period," yup, he hit the nail right on top of the head. I just nodded my head, diverting my eyes elsewhere since my head was in his captivity.

Before he came to my place I was reading this erotica novel and I couldn't help thinking of his doing those sinful things to my body and to top it all off, I was ovulating.

"Why didn't you just say something? I could have helped you with your problem," he revealed, shaking me to my core.

I think I had a slight wheeze from how fast I pulled my head away to look at him well. Was I hearing him correctly? Or am I just slow? Don't get me wrong, we've been best friends for a year now, and we've shared the same bed countless times, and I sleep on his chest every night. He takes care of me so well, making sure that I don't need anything, and he is such a gentleman who makes me laugh even if he is not conventionally funny. I guess these things are what made me so attracted to him and why every time i got horny i always imagined him on top of me all muscly and sweaty. But I never thought he would suggest such a thing as right now.

"Did you say what I just think you said?" I asked just to confirm. You know what, maybe he's joking. Right?

"Yes, baby girl," he said, giving me that intense eye contact. This man has his pet names. I think his goal is to finish me at this point. I feel my ears burning and I know my face is so red.

"B-but we are just friends. This isn't supposed to be our dynamic Eros. I reminded him cause he seemed to have forgotten that we are decided to be friends and not lovers due to our work relationship.

Feeling overwhelmed, I started to pace around the room. I knew if he even tried to convince me I would jump the wagon and consequences be damned because that's how far I am gone. Eros' eyes suddenly grew darker and he barked out "Do you think I'll let you go to anyone else to relieve your desires?! Fuck . No". He stomped towards me, where I was currently at my bedroom window. He snaked his arms around me and looked me dead in the eyes with those beautiful, grey eyes.

"We might have agreed to be friends because of our business relationship, but don't think for a second that I'll let a filthy unworthy man put his paws on you", he declared.

"I'm trying to hold myself back but I can only hold on for so long before I snap and decide to claim you. Contract be damned."

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. My stomach did that thing that I read about in my novels. I damn near felt butterflies in my tummy.

"What makes you think that you are worthy of touching me, unlike those unworthy men you so hatefully speak about? " I asked using my fingers to show quotation marks.

"No man is worthy of touching you", he stated clearly. "Not even me," he whispered to my ear. My breath hitched.

"Your eyes are what are telling me that if I were to touch you right now, you would let me. Am I right?" He asked while running the pads of his fingers underneath my eyes. My silence seemed to have given him his answer because he took my hand and led me to the king-size bed where he sat down and pulled me on top of him.

I was in straddle position and I could feel his print which wasn't helping my current situation. "Eros, what are you doing?" I whispered my voice trembling as i held on tightly to his shoulders. He was shirtless and his skin was so warm. "Do you want me to stop?" He countered, loosening his hold on my waist.

I shook my head and held onto him tighter. He gripped my waist once again pulling me forward to settle right on his dick which was hard and pulsing matching to the beat of my pussy. "Ah!" A sound i didn't recognize escaped my lips and Eros grunted tightening his hold that i could almost feel his nails digging in my waist.

He went ahead to move my body back and forth on his shaft and I was long gone. It felt amazing. His dick was so hot and hard that it drove me crazy. I moved my right hand to the back of his neck and buried my face in his neck. "Don't hide those beautiful sounds from me, " he grunted breathing heavily. He increased the pace at which he was moving me on top of his shaft that it felt like the real deal. Oh My God! Just imagining him inside me hard and long was making me loose my mind. "Fuck! Baby girl," he growled, deep grunts leaving his mouth.

"Tell me your mine," he said while placing kisses up my neck. I was so far gone that what he said didn't register in my mind. He went ahead and bit my neck where he seemed to have found my sweet spot. "Found it," he said chuckling lightly then grunted when his dick went in between my pussy lips since i was wearing thin cotton shorts. "Ah! Eros that feels so.... good," I said moaning so loudly if my neighbors were any nearer they would have heard the wanton sounds I was making.

"Look at you. Enjoying my dick underneath you," he growled amusement in his eyes. "Now answer my question," He said while sucking on my sweet spot. "What....?" I said moaning because i couldn't remember. "Tell me your mine. NOW!" He demanded while bouncing me on top of him. A scream escaped my lips. "Ah! Eros.....It- It feels like you are fucking me!!" I screamed as he moved his hips upwards to meet me half way.

"I'm yours....Eros!" "I'm...Yours!" I said while I started moving my knees and aided him in moving myself up and down, bouncing fast while meeting him half way. My juices were dripping on top of him and i know that my panties were soaked. His pre-cum was mixing with my juices on top of his sweatpants.

He suddenly moved one hand down my body and inserted it in my shorts and pinched my clit through my soaked panties. "Eros!...... Ah!!!" I immediately released and he was quick to put his hand in my panties and rubbed fast, prolonging my orgasm. "Fuck Zolina! You look so good right now!" He grunted and moved me even faster while raising his hips from the bed meeting me half way, also chasing his high.

He buried his head deeper into my neck, his orgasm hitting him. His fingers still in my panties. Our bodies settled and the only thing that could be heard was our rugged breathing. "You're amazing angel," he said while removing his head from my neck. He shocked me by taking his hand from my underwear and stuffed his fingers in his mouth sucking my juices.

I blushed, the events of the previous minutes registering in my head. I just got intimate with my boss slash best friend.

Zolina's POV

Expensive perfumes flowed all around the luxuriously decorated hall. Women both young and old were dressed in elegant pieces, some short, some long gliding across the sleek floor. The men wore designer suits tailored to perfection. Rich people everywhere making me self aware.

I wasn't rich but I wasn't poor. I had made enough money from my forex venture to uproot myself from Umbria, Italy to Dubai to follow my desire for fashion design. I know most people would ask why not go to Milan? Yes it is one of the major fashion centers in the world and a lot of luxury brands are from Italy just like Dolce and Gabbana, whose event I am currently attending.

Umbria was too quiet and too calm for me. I was attracted to Dubai's tall and flashy buildings and the diversity of its people. Besides, it's closer to home than places like New York.

I swooped up a flute of champagne from the waiter close to me who then gave me a polite smile. I took a small sip of the bubbly liquid as my new best friend Evara, who I met when I arrived in Dubai two months ago, pulled me around the grand hall, forcing me to interact and mingle with the rich. This was easy for her because she is used to such events since she comes from old money.

She is the reason why I got to attend this launch event in the first place. She got an invite from D&G and took me with her as her plus one. She knows of my dream to start up my own fashion line and that's why she didn't think twice to drag me along.

"Wow slow down young lady. We don't want to bump into these rich folks." You never know how they might react. You know rich people can be snobs. And that's not the kind of attention I want on myself here in a foreign country.

"Am just trying to get us to my parents. I've seen them somewhere and they aren't snobs like everybody else," she pulls my hand with hers and drags me towards her parents who mind you i've never met.

"Oh so I am meeting the parents? Best friend upgrade nice I guess," I was freaking out. Of all days, today she decides to introduce me to her parents. Am already tense as it is and she wants me to meet her parents. She says that they are not snobs but what if they think that I don't deserve to be her friend. Older white people do not necessarily want their kids to be friends with people of my skin color.

I am a black girl from Italy and my mom is black from Nigeria but my dad is Italian. But I clearly took my skin color from my mom but lighter because of my dad and I inherited my dad's hazel eyes. So they were going to judge. Maybe? But I shouldn't jump to conclusions because she said they are friendly.

"What if they don't like me Eva?"

"We'll see"

What?!

I didn't have time to reply because we arrived in front of an older couple. The woman had luscious brunette hair with beautiful blue eyes and didn't look a day over 30 but was actually 50.She was elegantly dressed with a gown which without mistake was designer. You could tell she was Evara's mother. No need for DNA. The man looked to be in his late forties with his jet black hair with small touches of white. He had steel grey eyes that could look into anyone's soul but it softened and a small smile grazed his lips when his gaze landed on his daughter.

"Mom, dad, you guys made it," she went ahead and hugged them while I stood behind her quietly and uneasy, my champagne long forgotten.

"Your mother insisted on coming. You know how she loves fashion. I couldn't refuse," her father said looking lovingly at his wife who just brushed him off chuckling.

"Right. Talking about fashion, meet my best friend, Zolina Lanconi. An amazing designer. You should really see her sketches mom," she turned towards me and all the attention moved from her to me.

She pulled me in front of her parents who were looking at me curiously.

"It's nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Esposito,"I greet them politely offering my hand for a handshake.

A big smile spreads across Mrs Esposito's face and she ignores my hand and pulls me towards her and engulfs me in a warm motherly hug.

"Oh my, Evara talks so much about you Zolina. You are definitely her best friend alright,"

"Good things I hope,"I say, chuckling lightly.

"Certainly. And call me Maria. Mrs just makes me feel old and I want to feel young if you get me," she says playfully, making us laugh.

Mr. Esposito shakes my hand and tells me to call him Stavros. We mingled and Evara cracked some jokes making us laugh and the tension I had felt was now non-existent. Her parents were not what I had expected. They were nice and welcoming. I don't know if it was because I was Evara's best friend but anyway I'll take it.

"See, I told you they'll like you. You gotta trust your bestie. I know what i'm doing," she put her arms around my shoulder while we made our way to the washroom or as the rich would say, powder room.

"Yeah yeah, I guess you were right," I laugh softly as I wrap my arm around her waist. We clearly were girl best friends if you could see us right now.

.......

After leaving the powder room we decided to go and view the new D&G collection to be released. I now had a glass of red wine. Champagne is nice but red wine is my everything. Much preferred by me.

Evara had excused herself when she received a call from her current rich client who had hired her to design the interior of his mansion.

I was admiring a breathtaking piece on display-a velvet-embroidered abaya reimagined with a modern twist-when I felt a sharp jolt at my back. The force knocked the glass forward, the liquid arcing in slow motion before it splattered across my stomach.

Crimson on ivory.

I gasped, looking down in horror as the deep red bled across the fabric like a spreading wound.

"Oh my god-" I started, turning around.

And then I saw him.

Tall. Sharp-jawed. Dressed in a black tuxedo tailored within an inch of his life. His expression was unreadable-calm, even bored-as if he hadn't just bumped into me like a wrecking ball and destroyed my evening.

"You bumped into me," I said, my voice high with disbelief.

He tilted his head, almost lazily. "You were standing in the middle of the aisle."

Was this man serious?

"I was admiring a gown!" I snapped. "You ran into me like a damn truck."

He looked down at my dress with a blank expression, then lifted his eyes back to mine. "That's unfortunate. I'll pay for it."

He reached into his jacket and casually pulled out a matte black credit card, extending it like a napkin.

I didn't take it.

"This is vintage, and it's silk," I hissed. "You think you can just throw money at people when you mess up?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather I hand-sew it?"

I glared. "I'd rather you apologize."

The corner of his mouth lifted in something that almost looked like amusement. "You're dramatic."

"And you're insufferable."

He blinked. Then slipped the card back into his pocket like it was beneath him to continue. "It's just a dress."

"It's not just a dress," I said, heat creeping up my neck. "I made it and it took me three weeks to hand-finish the embroidery. Not like you care".

A flicker of something passed across his eyes-confusion, maybe. Or surprise. But then it vanished.

"Well," he said coolly, "Use wine-resistant thread next time."

I almost slapped him.

Instead, I let out a sharp breath, shook my head, and walked away before I lost control. I could still feel the stain soaking into the fabric. I could still feel him-his arrogance, his presence, his ridiculous cheekbones-burning in the back of my mind.

Who the hell did he think he was?

I tried to salvage the rest of the dress, but the damage was done. People stared. Whispers around me like a shadow.

I didn't know his name, but I hated him.

And I hated that he got under my skin.

I decided to slip out without Evara because she wasn't done with her call and I didn't want to be a burden. The warm night air slapped my face as I exited the hotel, and for the first time since arriving in Dubai, I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I couldn't. I wouldn't give him that power.

Back in my apartment, I peeled off the ruined dress and draped it gently across my chair, heart heavy. The wine stain looked even worse under the bright light. I stared at it for a long time before I took out my phone and opened my messages.

Evara was blowing up my phone.

EVARA:

Babe!! Where'd you go?

You missed the dessert tower!

EVARA:

Also... did you meet my brother?

I frowned.

ME:

Wait... who's your brother?

She sent a photo.

No.

NO.

The image loaded: tuxedo. Cheekbones. Smirk.

It was him.

I dropped the phone.

So that arrogant, entitled, too-good-to-apologize man was her brother? The same Eros I'd heard her mention? The older brother who'd flown in from London recently and kept a low profile? The one she said I'd meet "eventually"?

Perfect. Just perfect.

So not only did I embarrass myself, ruin my dress, and get disrespected-I had to see him again. Repeatedly. Because he was family to my friend. The one person in Dubai who actually felt like home.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I took a deep breath and poured myself a glass of water. I'd faced worse. I didn't fly halfway across the world, build my life from scratch, and claw my way into this city just to be shaken by some man in a tuxedo.

Still... I had a feeling Eros wouldn't be easy to ignore.

Or forget.

Zolina's POV

The skyline shimmered like it had been dipped in gold. Afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment, washing the marble floors in soft light and turning the pale curtains into gossamer silk. I'd dreamed of having a place like this for years-a modern apartment high above the city, quiet and personal, with enough space to think, sketch, and breathe. The moment I stepped onto the 30th floor that first day and saw the uninterrupted view of the Burj Khalifa glinting in the distance, I knew I'd found it. I made it. But today, the view didn't bring peace. Today, it reminded me that he lived somewhere out there too. Breathing the same air as me.

Sigh! How unfortunate.

I tugged at the loose hem of my oversized tee and set down two steaming plates of lemon grilled chicken and spicy couscous on the table. Just as I placed a cold glass of mint lemonade beside each plate, the door buzzed. "Finally," I muttered, walking over barefoot and pulling the door open. Evara stepped in like a wave of energy-hair pulled up in a lazy bun, oversized black sunglasses pushed into her curls, and a vibrant scarf tied around her wrist. She always looked like the cover of an effortlessly chic fashion blog.

"Why do you look like you are running from the paparazzi with this disguise you got going on?"

"Zolaaa!" she sang, ignoring my question arms wide, then gasped dramatically. "I wanted to be mysterious. Do you like it?" she twirled around to show me her outfit.

"Wait. Don't tell me you cooked this?" she asked when she finally set her eyes on the meal I had prepared.

"I did," I said, grinning. "Don't act shocked."

"Girl, you told me you only make eggs and order everything else!"

"I was in a mood," I shrugged. "Also, I was too annoyed to leave the house."

"Mm-hmm, it looks delicious," she smirked as she dropped onto the couch, kicked her slides off, and grabbed a lemon wedge. "So... wanna tell me why you ghosted the biggest fashion event of the season?" I sat down across from her and gave her a look.

If only she knew. I turn to her on the couch with an annoyed look just remembering yesterday's event.

"Oh, no. This is about Eros, isn't it?" she said immediately, mouth full of chicken, seeing the look on my face.

I scoffed. "Your brother-Eros-is the reason I walked out of there soaked in red wine and social humiliation." Her eyes widened. "Wait, wait, what?!" Forgetting all about her food.

"He ran into me while I was admiring one of the displays. Red wine spilled all over my dress-my off-white vintage dress that I had made myself, by the way-and instead of apologizing, he just stood there and blamed me." I tighten my palms into a fist. The dress could not be salvaged because the crimson red wine refused to wash out.

Evara looked like she was trying not to laugh. There isn't anything funny about this.

"Classic Eros."

"That man is a walking ego in a tuxedo," I said, stabbing my couscous with my fork. "I didn't even know it was him until you sent me that photo. I thought he was just another arrogant socialite with too much money and not enough decency." "Well..." she started, then cleared her throat. "I'm not saying you're wrong. But I am saying you shouldn't take it personally. Eros has always been... difficult."

"Difficult ?" I blinked. "The man told me to get wine-resistant thread next time."

Evara choked on her lemonade. "You're joking." "Wish I was. He even tried to pay me off like I was some background character in his billionaire soap opera." She sighed, setting her glass down. "Look... I know he's a lot. He's always been intense-hyper-focused, business-minded, not great at emotions. But once you get past the stone wall personality, he's not all that bad." "Stone wall is being generous," I muttered. "He's just guarded," she said. "The whole family expects him to carry everything-legacy, wealth, reputation. That's a lot of pressure."

I exhaled and leaned back in my seat. "I get it, I really do. But that doesn't give him the right to act like he's above everyone else." There was a pause. Then Evara looked at me thoughtfully. "You really hate him, huh?" I shrugged. "I don't know if it's hate... but it's definitely in the neighborhood." She grinned. "Well, get comfy, because you're probably going to see a lot more of him."

"Don't remind me."

We both laughed, the tension easing as we moved on to lighter conversation-TikTok trends, design inspiration, a fashion pop-up happening next week. We ended up deciding to binge watch the new Ginny & Georgia season. All I can say is that the show that was once cringy was taking a dark turn.

Then, somewhere between forkfuls of couscous, laughter and a couple episodes, Evara's face turned serious again. "So... how's everything going with your brand?" she asked gently. I hesitated. "It's moving. Slowly. I've finalized the brand name, drafted some preliminary collections, and found two potential textile suppliers. But-" I took a breath, "-the money's starting to thin out. I need an investor. Someone who actually understands the industry. Or at least believes in creative startups."

Evara leaned forward. "Have you pitched to anyone yet?"

"Three people. Two were nice, but wanted to own too much of the company. The other one told me he'd fund it if I added rhinestones and made it more 'Instagram baddie chic.' I wanted to scream." She winced. "Yeah, no. That's not your vibe at all."

"Exactly. I want something timeless and bold. Edgy, but clean. Structured minimalism with cultural undertones. Not fast fashion." There was a beat of silence as Evara tapped her nails on the edge of her glass, thinking. "You know," she said slowly, "Eros has been talking about investing outside his usual sectors."

I blinked. "What?"

"He's been in tech and infrastructure for years," she explained. "Started off in crypto at twenty, then moved into AI logistics, and now he's running a venture capital fund. But lately, he's been saying he wants to diversify into creative industries-fashion, media, lifestyle." I stared at her. "Please tell me you're not suggesting your brother." "I'm just saying," she said, raising her hands innocently, "you need an investor who respects ambition, right? Who's willing to take a risk on a creative vision? Eros does that-just in other sectors."

"I would rather let my company sink than pitch to him." She laughed. "You're being dramatic." "No, I'm being traumatized. I can still smell the wine on my dress." "Okay, fair," she said, chuckling. "But think about it. He's smart, strategic, and honestly? He'd admire your work ethic-if he actually listened long enough to see it." I sighed, leaning my head against the back of the chair, staring out the giant window again. It did make sense. Logically. Eros had money, connections, and a mind for business. If I could get past the fact that he was insufferable and emotionally unavailable, he might actually be a good investor. But could I get past that?

"I don't want pity money," I murmured. "And I don't want him to see me as some charity case or little side project." "Then don't pitch yourself that way," she said firmly. "You've worked your ass off. You have the designs, the vision, the research. He either sees that, or he doesn't. But give him the chance to see you-not just some girl he bumped into at a party." I was quiet for a long moment. The light shifted on the glass, the city glowing beneath the sun.

"What if he says no?" I asked softly. "Then we find someone better," she said, smiling. "But you won't know unless you try."

___

Later that evening, the silence in my apartment was both calming and heavy. The golden hour had come and gone, and Dubai's skyline now sparkled like it had dressed for a gala. I'd changed into a pair of ribbed lounge shorts and a tank top, curling into my studio corner with a steaming mug of ginger tea and my sketchpad.

My pencil danced against the page, shaping silhouettes that only existed in my mind hours ago. Long coats with structured shoulders. Corset-waisted blazers. Minimalist abayas made of deep navy silk and lined with Nubian embroidery. Every line I drew pulled me deeper into the world I was building-ALPHA. My future. My vision. My legacy. I paused, staring at the flowing lines of a gown I'd just finished. It had a high neck and dramatic open back, meant for the woman who didn't just walk into a room, but claimed it. I could almost see it on a runway, camera flashes bursting like fireworks. But then, like a sharp snap back to reality, I felt the weight in my chest return.

Money.

I reached for my laptop and pulled up my trading account. My stomach tightened before the screen even loaded. The numbers weren't lying. The forex profits I'd lived off for the past year were thinning faster than I'd expected. Between rent, living expenses, material samples, and legal fees for setting up the brand... I had less than three months of cushion left. And launching a fashion line in Dubai-especially the kind I envisioned-wasn't just expensive. It was ruthless.

I sat back slowly, the tea forgotten, the silence now deafening. I'd always been proud of the fact that I did this alone. My parents didn't fund me. No ex-boyfriend bankrolled my dreams. Every cent I'd made came from nights spent staring at charts and currencies, teaching myself how to read markets like a second language. But ambition was a hungry monster, and dreams didn't grow on pride.

My fingers hovered over my phone. No. I couldn't. I wouldn't.

I stood, pacing the room, trying to shake the anxiety out of my limbs. Maybe I could launch a smaller line. Maybe I'd cut a few pieces. Delay the runway debut. Sell made-to-order styles only. But with each compromise, I felt the vision crumbling. That wasn't what ALPHA was supposed to be. It wasn't meant to play small. I sat back down and stared at the city again. Beneath me were thousands of people chasing things. Money. Power. Dreams. Love. And here I was, staring mine in the face, and letting pride hold me back.

Dammit. I grabbed my phone, opened my call log, and tapped Evara's name before I could talk myself out of it.

"Zolaaaa," she answered cheerfully, even though I could hear the rustle of her sheets. "Hey," I said softly, rubbing my temple. There was a pause. "You okay?" I closed my eyes. "I've been going over everything, Eva. The costs. The timeline. The launch plans. My account balance. And I hate saying this, but... I can't do it alone. Not the way I want to." Her voice turned gentle. "So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking... I might need to meet with your brother." There was silence for a beat too long. "You sure?" "No," I admitted. "But I'm sure I want this company to exist. And that matters more than hating a man for having bad manners and a God complex." She chuckled softly. "That's growth, babe." I groaned. "Don't make me regret this." "You won't," she said confidently. "Look, I'll talk to him. Set something up. Just be open-minded, okay?"

I nodded, more to myself than to her. "Okay." "Also..." she added, "don't wear something too intimidating. You know he hates being outdressed." "Oh," I smirked, "now you've given me a reason to show up." We both laughed, and for the first time that day, I felt a little lighter.

After we hung up, I sat back on the couch, letting my eyes wander over the sketches again. The vision was still here-alive, waiting. I didn't know what Eros would say, and I certainly didn't know if we'd survive being in the same room again. But I did know one thing: I wasn't letting this dream slip away.

Not for pride.

Not for fear.

Not even for him.