Jealous
1076 Words
Author’s Note:
Thank you all for the fifteen views — it truly means a lot.
Special thanks to SmileySilverado for the vote and TeddyTruman for adding this book to his reading list 🤍
Leonardo’s Royal Hotel
Rosa adjusted the cleaning cart as she stepped out of the last room assigned to her that morning. Her shift had started before sunrise, and her feet ached slightly inside her worn black flats — but she was used to it.
Hard work had never frightened her.
She was organizing the supplies when Mr. Gadzhi’s assistant approached her briskly down the corridor.
Mr. Immanuel Gadzhi — a Russian billionaire known for his investments in fashion, real estate, and petroleum — had checked out earlier. While cleaning his suite, Rosa had discovered a leather document bag tucked beneath the desk.
Inside were papers that looked… important.
Very important.
According to hotel policy, any forgotten item could only be released upon proper identification.
“Mr. Gadzhi’s bag,” the assistant, Alex, said impatiently. “We’re in a hurry.”
Rosa held the bag closer to her chest. “Sir, I will need to see your identification card before I can release it.”
His expression hardened.
“Do you know who he is?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “We are late for a very important meeting. We need to return to Russia.”
“I understand, sir,” she replied softly but firmly. “But hotel policy applies to everyone. I just need your ID so I can record it. I don’t want to lose my job.”
Her calm tone only irritated him further.
“You dare delay us over paperwork?”
“I won’t give you the bag without identification,” she repeated, her grip tightening slightly.
“You—”
“No need to get angry, Alex.”
The deep voice interrupted the tension.
Rosa turned.
Immanuel Gadzhi stood at the end of the hallway, having just stepped out of the elevator. He walked toward them with composed authority. His tailored black coat framed his broad shoulders, and his presence alone quieted the air.
He had noticed Alex was gone too long.
He had come himself.
Up close, Rosa noticed his sharp features, dark eyes, and controlled expression. Power radiated from him — not loud, but undeniable.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his passport.
“She is simply following the procedure,” he said in a thick Russian accent, handing the document to Rosa. “You are doing your job correctly. Thank you.”
Rosa blinked.
She had expected arrogance.
She had expected dismissal.
Instead, she received respect.
“I’m sorry for the delay, sir,” she said quickly after checking his identification and handing the bag to him. “I just needed to follow protocol.”
“It is not a problem,” he replied calmly.
As he walked away, she glanced at her old red wristwatch.
Her heart dropped.
“Oh no… I’m late for class.”
She whispered it under her breath — but Iman heard.
He studied her for a brief second.
Then he made a quiet decision.
---
Fifteen Minutes Later
Rosa rushed to the staff locker room, changing out of her uniform. Since it was Valentine’s Day, she had packed a red dress in her bag — simple, elegant, modest. She paired it with her worn out red heels and tied her ginger-red hair into a ponytail.
Her chocolate-brown skin glowed softly against the red fabric.
She hurried outside — only to be stopped by a man in a black suit.
“Miss Rosa?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Gadzhi has instructed me to drive you to school.”
Her brows furrowed. “Why?”
“It is his way of thanking you for safeguarding his documents.”
Her thoughts raced.
Why would a billionaire care about a hotel maid’s punctuality?
Why would someone so powerful notice someone like her?
She hesitated — then nodded.
The black limousine parked in front of the hotel gleamed under the morning light. The driver opened the door respectfully.
Rosa stepped inside, still processing everything.
Last night, Luciano Aetros — heir to a billion-dollar Greek empire — had asked her to be his girlfriend.
She knew his reputation.
Player. Charmer. Untouchable.
But she had liked him for months.
Quietly.
From a distance.
She never imagined he would notice her.
The poor did not usually cross into the world of the rich.
Yet here she was.
“In the eyes of God, we are all equal,” she whispered internally. “There is no rich or poor.”
The drive to Hult International Business School was only fifteen minutes, but it felt surreal.
Curious, she searched Immanuel Gadzhi online.
Philanthropist.
Self-made billionaire.
High school dropout who built an empire from scratch.
Builder of schools in Nepal and across the world.
Her admiration deepened.
She wanted that kind of independence.
She wanted to never worry about her mother’s needs again.
Rosa was Liberian. Mixed-race. Her father had been Australian; her mother Liberian-Ghanaian. After her father’s death, she and her mother migrated to the United Kingdom.
Scholarship.
Hard work.
Discipline.
That was how she arrived at Hult.
Not privilege.
---
Hult Parking Lot
The limousine slowed into the parking lot.
Heads turned.
Students stared.
The driver stepped out and walked around to open her door.
And there he was.
Luciano Aetros.
Leaning against his silver-grey Audi A7.
Waiting.
His expression shifted the moment he saw her stepping out of a limousine.
Confusion.
Then suspicion.
Then something darker.
Jealousy.
A tall, well-dressed man offered Rosa his hand. As she stepped out, her heel slipped slightly against the pavement.
The driver instinctively caught her — one hand steadying her waist.
Luciano’s jaw tightened.
It wasn’t the man’s appearance that bothered him.
Luciano knew he was more handsome.
It was the touch.
The familiarity.
The way another man’s hand rested briefly at her waist.
His girlfriend.
His.
He pushed off his car slowly, storm building quietly behind his jade-green eyes.
And for the first time since asking Rosa to be his Valentine…
Luciano realized something uncomfortable.
He did not like sharing.
Rosa noticed the look, but she had no time to think of it. She was still processing the morning’s surprises — the billionaire’s calm apology, the limo, the unexpected ride.
Author's Note
Happy Valentine's Day
Kindly like, share, comment and follow.
Xoxo
Bella Angel Douglas
- Writer
