Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 202

Margaret's call came in on Tuesday morning while I was going over sales reports with Gwen.

"Annabelle?" Her voice sounded formal and brisk. "Mr. Carter would like you to join him for a dinner with the Franconian investors on Friday. He believes your knowledge of the Verdanian market would be valuable for the discussion."

My stomach did a full somersault.

"Of course." I managed to sound professional. "What time?"

"At eight, at Le Bernardin. I'll send you the details by email. Thank you."

When I hung up, Gwen was watching me with that knowing smile.

"Work dinner?" she asked, but her tone made it clear she suspected more.

"It's work, Gwen. Franconian investors."

"Sure it is," she laughed. "That's why you turned red the moment you heard about it."

I tried to focus on the numbers on my screen, but it was useless. A dinner with Nathaniel. Outside the office. Even if it was work, even if other people would be there, the idea made me nervous. And if I was honest, a little excited.

On Tuesday, Nathaniel called me in for a "quick meeting" about expansion strategies for the Costanoran market.

"Annie." He looked up when I walked into his office. "I need your take on something."

He stood beside a side table covered with maps and charts. As I stepped closer to look at the documents, he stayed close enough that I could feel his warmth.

"We're considering a new approach for Eisenwald distributors." He pointed to a map of Euradia. "What's your view on Euradian consumer preferences compared to Verdanian ones?"

His hand brushed mine when we both reached for the same document, a touch that seemed accidental but lingered a second longer than it should.

"I…" I tried to focus on the map and not on the fact that he was practically pressed against me. "I think Euradia tend to be more traditional in their choices, but they're open to trying new things."

"Great insight." His voice dropped, too low and too close to my ear. "You always have such… perceptive takes."

The way he said perceptive, with that faint pause, sent a shiver down my skin.

The meeting lasted only fifteen minutes. I left his office replaying every word, every look, every moment he'd leaned just a little too close.

Wednesday was even worse.

He asked me to come by to review a presentation he was preparing for potential Eisenwald distributors. This time, he was seated behind his desk when I walked in, and he motioned to the chair beside him. Not the one across the desk, but literally right next to him.

"Sit here," he said, pulling the chair closer to his. "You'll see the screen better."

For the next twenty minutes, we sat side by side, our shoulders brushing now and then as he clicked through the slides. Each accidental touch made my pulse jump.

"What do you think of this approach for the Eisenwald market?" he asked at one point, turning slightly toward me.

We were so close I could see every detail of his green eyes, the faint lines around them. For a moment, I completely forgot the question.

"It's… effective," I managed.

"I'm glad you approve." He smiled, letting his gaze linger on mine a few seconds longer than it should. "Your opinion matters a lot to me, Annie."

The way he said my name, quiet and intimate, made something tighten in my chest.

By the time I left that meeting, I was dizzy. There was no way all these moments were coincidences, right? But at the same time, he hadn't said or done anything explicitly inappropriate. Everything could be chalked up to normal professionalism.

On Thursday, Nathaniel called me in again. This time he said he needed my help understanding "Verdanian cultural nuances tied to the organic line" that might matter in the conversation with the Franconian investors.

"The Franconians are really interested in our Vintara line," he said, pacing as he spoke. "I need a better grasp of the positioning you used in Verdania, since we're expanding in Euradia now."

It was a legitimate question, but the way he stood behind my chair while I flipped through the documents made me painfully aware of him.

"The important thing was highlighting sustainability and the artisanal process," I explained, trying to stay focused. "Verdanian consumers loved the idea of premium organic wines."

"Perfect," he said, placing his hands on the back of my chair. "You're going to be essential in that conversation tomorrow night."

"I hope I can contribute properly."

"No." Gwen shook her head. "That's not the real answer."

"What do you mean?"

"Annie, you're obsessing over every interaction with him because…?"

I stayed silent, fully aware of where she was going, but too reluctant to admit it.

"If you're imagining innuendo that maybe isn't there," Gwen said gently, "it's because part of you is hoping it is."

My face burned hot.

"Gwen…"

"Is it true or not?"

I looked at her, then at my computer screen, then back at her. I let out a long breath.

"Maybe," I finally admitted, my voice small. "Maybe I am… wanting it."

"And there's nothing wrong with that." Gwen smiled. "You're two single adults. And after that encounter on the plane, it's natural there's still… tension."

"But he's my boss!"

"For now," she said with a shrug. "That doesn't mean feelings can't exist. It just means you both have to be careful about how you handle them."

"What if I'm reading everything wrong? What if he's just being professional and I'm imagining all this tension?"

"Then you'll find out tomorrow night at the dinner," Gwen said with a mischievous smile. "More relaxed setting, outside the office. If there's something real between you two, it'll be pretty obvious."

My stomach flipped again. In a few hours, I'd know whether all this tension was real or just my overactive imagination.

Either way, the night was going to be interesting.