Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 211

"First photo: too serious. You look like you're interviewing for a bank director position," Gwen said, analyzing my phone like it was an important case study. "Second photo: way too casual. You look like you just woke up. Third photo…"

"What about the third photo?" I asked, suddenly anxious.

"In this one you're pretty, but you look like you're constipated."

"Gwen!"

It was Monday afternoon, and we were at the café near the office for what was technically a "work meeting" but was, in reality, a full dating-app-profile-building session. Gwen insisted she couldn't let me do this alone because I had "zero instinct for personal branding."

"Calm down," she laughed, scrolling through more of my pictures. "We'll find something good. Oh. This one. You're smiling naturally, your hair looks great, and it shows you have personality."

"That's from Margaret's birthday party," I said. "I was laughing because James dropped cake on his tie."

"Perfect. Men love women who know how to laugh." Gwen saved the photo. "Now we need a full-body picture that isn't too obvious."

"Obvious how?"

"Like you in a bikini on the beach screaming 'look at my body' at random strangers online."

"I would never do that!"

"I know. That's why you need help." She kept scrolling. "This one. You in front of the London ferris wheel, blue dress, smiling. It shows you actually leave the house and have a social life."

"A questionable social life, considering I took that picture alone with the timer."

"No one needs to know that," Gwen said matter-of-factly. "Personal branding is about highlighting the good parts."

After forty-five minutes debating photos, we moved on to the profile text. That part was even worse.

"'Verdanian in London looking for…'" Gwen stopped typing and looked at me. "Looking for what?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm using the app. If I knew what I was looking for, I would've found it already."

"Annabelle, you need at least a vague idea. Adventure? Serious relationship? Someone to split a streaming bill with?"

"Serious relationship," I said immediately. "Definitely serious relationship. I want someone who takes me seriously from the first date."

"Okay. 'Verdanian in London looking for a serious relationship with someone who appreciates wine, smart conversation, and…'" She paused, waiting.

"And who doesn't lie about their height on the profile?" I suggested.

"Too specific. What about 'sense of humor'?"

"Everyone puts sense of humor. It's cliché."

"Because everyone wants someone funny, Annie. It's a basic requirement."

We spent another twenty minutes dissecting every sentence like we were drafting an international contract. In the end, this was the result. [Verdanian in love with wine and new experiences. I work in market development, love exploring London, and believe the best conversations happen over long dinners. Looking for someone genuine to discover the city together.]

"Is the wine emoji too much?" I asked.

"The wine emoji is perfect. Shows personality without being childish."

After reviewing everything three times, I finally published the profile. Gwen insisted we hurry back to the office so we could "monitor market response," as if I were a brand-new product launch.

And surprisingly, it worked.

The first match came in while we were riding the elevator. Then the second. By the time we reached our desks, I already had five matches and three messages.

"See?" Gwen said proudly. "I told you you'd be a success."

"Calm down. It's too early to celebrate," I said.

But secretly, I was thrilled.

The first message was from David, 29, an attorney. [Hi Annabelle! Loved your profile. I'm a wine lover too. How about we explore London's best wine bars together?]

"Look!" I showed Gwen. "Lawyer, polite, likes wine. Promising, right?"

"Very promising. Reply with something smart but not desperate."

The second message was from Thomas, 32, financial consultant. [Verdanian in London? You must have interesting stories. I love meeting people from different cultures.]

"This one seems nice too," I said.

"Yes?"

"Good luck with your… strategies."

He walked away with that half-amused, half-knowing smile, and I stared at the folder, my face undoubtedly the color of a tomato.

"He knows. He saw," I muttered to Gwen.

"Of course he knows. You turned your phone over with the subtlety of an elephant in a crystal shop."

"But he didn't say anything."

"Because he's a gentleman. And because you two are 'friends'." She made air quotes. "Remember?"

"We are friends," I insisted, picking up my phone again. "Friends who respect each other's privacy."

"Sure," Gwen said dryly. "Which explains why you're red as a chili pepper just because he wished you good luck."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a new message from David. [Thursday at 7 at Gordon's Wine Bar? I promise I'll order a Verdanian wine if they have one."]

I showed Gwen, who nodded in approval.

"See? He even used a smiley. That's a good sign."

"It is," I agreed, typing back, "Perfect! See you there."

As I hit send, I glanced toward Nate's office. He was focused on some documents, but for a second, our eyes met through the glass door.

He smiled and gave a small wave before turning back to his work.

Friends. We were only friends. And on Thursday, I was going on a date with a polite lawyer who liked wine and asked thoughtful questions.

Everything was going exactly according to plan.

So why did I have this strange feeling I was about to make a monumental mistake?