Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 212

Nathaniel's POV

By Tuesday morning, I couldn't pretend I wasn't curious anymore. I'd spent half the night replaying yesterday's scene in my head: the way Annie flipped her phone face-down with all the subtlety of a brick, the guilty expression like a kid caught stealing dessert, and especially that desperate, pathetic "strategies of strategy" line Gwen had thrown out like a human shield.

I tried focusing on the financial reports spread across my desk, but every five minutes my eyes drifted toward the hallway, searching for her. At nine fifteen, she walked past my door with a coffee in hand, smiling at something on her phone. Something tightened in my chest.

Not that it was any of my business. We were friends now. Friends respected each other's privacy and didn't snoop around like insecure teenagers.

But I still couldn't shake it.

By ten, I gave up pretending to be productive. I stepped out of my office under the guise of getting coffee. Pure coincidence, of course, that Gwen happened to be alone in the break room, stirring sugar into her tea like she was contemplating the mysteries of the universe.

"Gwen," I began, aiming for casual as I grabbed a clean mug. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She looked up from her cup, curious but wary.

"Of course, Nate." She leaned against the counter. "What's up? Is it about the Franconian team? Because—"

"It's about Annie," I admitted, no point trying to dance around it.

"Oh." Gwen raised an eyebrow, now more interested than annoyed. "Okay… what do you want to know?"

"It's just that I briefly saw her phone yesterday, while you two were trying very hard to pretend you weren't hiding something…"

"And?" Gwen's eyebrow climbed higher. She wasn't going to help me even a little.

"And I just want to make sure she's… safe."

The word came out far more possessive than I intended. Gwen noticed. Of course she noticed. Her eyes narrowed like she had just spotted a plot twist.

"Safe how?" she asked, dragging out the syllables.

"Well, if she's using dating apps…" I let the sentence hang, hoping she'd fill in the blanks.

"And who said she's using dating apps?" Gwen asked, but the tiny smirk at the corner of her mouth betrayed her instantly.

Ah. So I'd been right.

"Gwen, I wasn't born yesterday." I leaned casually against the counter, or as casually as I possibly could. "It's obvious she's trying to meet someone."

"And if she is?" Gwen crossed her arms, going into full defensive mode. "What's the problem exactly?"

"There is no problem," I lied, feeling my jaw tighten. "It's just that… as COO of this company, I have a responsibility to look after the well-being of all employees. And if Annie is putting herself at risk meeting strangers from the internet—"

"The date is not happening in 1888, Nate. Unless the guy is an immortal vampire, I think we're safe from George the Ripper."

I opened my mouth to offer another justification, maybe something about modern predators or bar crime statistics, but Gwen lifted a hand, stopping me.

"You know what I think?" she said, studying me with that analytical expression she used when solving complex logistics problems. "I think you're jealous."

The words hit me like a punch straight to the gut. I stood there, frozen, staring at her with my forgotten coffee cup in hand, trying to come up with a convincing denial.

But I couldn't. Because she was entirely, painfully right.

I was jealous. Stupidly, irrationally, embarrassingly jealous of a man I didn't even know. A man who would take Annie to a nice date and probably make her laugh in that warm, genuine way I wished I could. Jealous that she might like someone else more than she liked me.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and exposing. Gwen kept watching me with that "I knew it" look, while I battled the realization that my whole "concerned friend" façade had just collapsed in flames.

After a few eternal seconds, I turned without saying a word and started walking out of the break room.

"We're friends," I said, mostly to myself, clinging to the agreement Annie and I had made.

"Of course you are," Gwen called after me, her voice dripping in irony.