Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 213

Thursday was turning into one of those days when everything lined up against me. First, I woke up half an hour late because my alarm decided not to ring. Then I discovered I was out of milk for my coffee. And when I finally made it to the office, Nate showed up at my desk at three thirty with a serious look on his face.

"Annabelle, I need you to come with me to a meeting at Whitmore & Associates," he said, grabbing a few folders off my desk. "They have a wine cellar in St. Albans, and they're interested in distributing our Vintara line exclusively in the countryside."

I glanced at the clock. Three thirty. My date with David was at seven in Covent Garden, and St. Albans was more than an hour from London.

"Today?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate. "Can't it be tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately not." Nate pulled on his coat. "This afternoon was the only time they had available, and it's an important opportunity. The countryside market is growing fast, and you know the Vintara line better than anyone."

"But we'll be back in time, right? I have a... thing at seven."

"Of course. The meeting's at four thirty, an hour at most. We'll be back a little after six."

I exhaled. It was important, and I knew that. And Nate was right, I did know the organic line inside and out.

"Alright," I said, grabbing my coat. "Let's go."

The drive to St. Albans was easy, with Nate steering his BMW while we talked through strategies for the presentation. He was especially excited about the chance to expand into smaller markets.

"Places like St. Albans are exactly the demographic we're aiming for," he said as we pulled off the highway. "Upper middle class, eco-conscious, willing to pay more for quality."

"And with less competition than London," I added. "The big chains still focus on the city."

"Exactly. That's why you're here. Your insight into consumer behavior is valuable."

The meeting at Whitmore & Associates went smoothly. Their wine cellar was impressive, and the manager, Mr. Whitmore, seemed genuinely interested in the Vintara line. I answered every question about the organic production process and Verdanian consumer preferences, and we left with a concrete proposal to review.

"Excellent work," Nate said as we got back into the car at five forty. "You really impressed Whitmore."

"Thanks."

I checked the time. I could still make it to my date, even if I wouldn't have much time to get ready.

We had been on the road for about twenty minutes when the weather turned. What started as a drizzle became a heavy downpour, and Nate had to slow down a lot.

"Classic London weather," I muttered, watching the rain hammer the windshield.

"At least we're not stuck in traffic," Nate said, but he spoke too soon.

A few minutes later, we were completely stopped. Apparently there was an accident up ahead.

"Great," I sighed, sending David a message. [Horrible traffic. I'm going to be about 30 minutes late. Sorry!]

By six thirty, we finally got past the congestion, but we were still forty minutes from London. Nate pushed the speed where he could, but the rain made it tough.

"I'm going to be so late," I groaned.

"Sorry. I didn't think traffic would get this bad with the storm."

That was when we heard it.

Bang!

The car lurched hard, and Nate immediately pulled over onto the shoulder. We were in a rural area with no houses or gas stations in sight.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, turning off the engine.

We got out to check. The left rear tire was completely flat.

"Seriously?" I groaned, looking around. "Here? Now?"

"Flat tire," Nate said, stating the obvious as he glanced at the heavy sky. "And the rain isn't stopping."

"You know how to change it?"

"In theory."

"In theory?"

"I know how it works, I just never... actually did it by myself."

I started laughing, because the whole situation was just too ridiculous.

"The COO of Kensington can't change a tire?"

"Annabelle..." he whispered, his voice rough.

I leaned down a little, and he leaned up. Our lips were almost touching. I could feel his warm breath mixing with the cold rain. Then he stopped abruptly and helped me to my feet.

"Sorry," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. "Let's... let's finish this."

We stayed quiet as we put on the spare, both of us clearly shaken by what had almost happened. The tension between us was thick, but neither of us said a word.

When we finally got back into the car, dripping everywhere and covered in mud up to our knees, I checked the time. It was eight fifteen.

"Shit," I sighed, grabbing my phone.

There were four unread messages from David. I opened them, and my stomach dropped as I read them.

[I'm here. Are you okay?]

[It's been an hour. Are you coming or not?]

[Got it. You must be with some other guy.]

[Typical women. You're all sluts anyway. What a waste of time.]

I shut my phone fast, anger and disappointment tangling together in my chest.

"Problems?" Nate asked, turning on the heater.

"Solutions," I laughed. "Let's just say you saved me from a big mess, my friend," I said, forcing a smile and trying to hide how much David's words had stung.

Nate looked at me for a few seconds, like he could see straight through the easy tone I was putting on, but he didn't push.

"Anytime, friend," he said, giving me that soft smile that always made me feel better.

On the way back to London, I couldn't stop thinking about two things: David's awful messages, and the moment I almost kissed Nate in the rain.

And strangely, the second memory was wiping the first one clean.