Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 214

Saturday mornings in London had a kind of magic. The frantic pace of the week softened into something calmer. People wandered the streets without rushing, couples sipped coffee at sidewalk tables despite the cold, and the whole city felt like it had nowhere urgent to be.

I decided it was the perfect day to finally visit the famous Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill. Gwen had insisted I needed to go, especially to the antiques section. According to her, it was "a hidden treasure where you can find anything from rare records to vintage jewelry."

I took the tube to Notting Hill Gate and walked through the residential streets until I reached Portobello Road Market. The market was in full swing, with hundreds of stalls stretching down the street. They sold everything from antiques and used books to vintage clothing and handmade crafts. The smell of street food mixed with the familiar scent of old books and incense.

It was exactly what I imagined a London market would be. Chaotic, colorful, and completely captivating.

I spent the first hour just wandering and taking it all in, amazed by the sheer variety. One stall was dedicated entirely to vintage hats, another sold old maps of London, and a third displayed an impressive collection of old cameras.

It was at a record stall that something caught my eye. Among the hundreds of LPs stacked in wooden crates, I found a copy of the Beatles' "Abbey Road" in immaculate condition. I had always been a Beatles fan. My dad played their songs all the time when I was a kid, and some of my best memories were Sunday mornings listening to "Here Comes the Sun" while my mom made breakfast.

"How much is this?" I asked the vendor, a man in his forties with round glasses and a big beard.

He looked at me, then at the record, then back at me, clearly sizing me up.

"For you, darling, 150 dollars," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

150 dollars? Even if I wasn't a record expert, that felt steep.

"For that price it better come with a Paul McCartney concert. Can't you do better? I'm a student," I tried, even though that part wasn't true. Desperate times.

"One fifty is the best I can do. It's a special edition."

I was about to give up when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Tommy, are you trying to scam tourists again?"

I turned, and there was Nate, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. He looked nothing like the suited executive I knew. He looked younger, more relaxed, and definitely more... approachable.

"Nate!" Tommy exclaimed, his face lighting up. "My friend! I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We work together," Nate said as he stepped closer to the stall. "And she's not a tourist, Tommy. She's Verdanian, but she lives here now."

"Ah, Verdanian!" Tommy grinned for real this time. "Why didn't you say so? I love Verdanians. My ex-wife was from Solara."

"Really?" I managed to say, still processing the fact that Nate was standing there.

"Yeah. Stubbornest woman I ever met, but she made the best beef and bean stew in London." Tommy laughed, then looked at the record in my hands. "This Abbey Road... for family friends, 120 pounds."

"Tommy," Nate said, picking up the record and checking it, "if she goes to your shop in Camden during the week, you'll do it for ninety."

"Ninety?" Tommy pretended to be offended. "You're bankrupting me, Nate. But fine, ninety dollars. Only because she's your friend."

"Thank you," I said, still a little thrown by the whole exchange. "But you don't have to..."

"She does," Nate cut in. "Tommy likes to bump up the price when he feels like it."

"It's dynamic marketing," Tommy corrected with a laugh. "But for you two, ninety dollars, final offer."

I paid for the record, still a bit dazed by the coincidence.

"So..." I said to Nate as we walked away from the stall, "do you come here often?"

"Almost every Saturday," he said, sliding his hands into his jacket pockets. "I hunt for rare records, mostly. Tommy's one of my most reliable sources."

"Rare records?" My curiosity perked up. "What kind of music are you into?"

"True," he said, glancing at me. "And I didn't know you knew so much about the Beatles."

"Honestly, I don't think we know much about each other's personal tastes at all. I know you studied at Oxford, that you speak four languages, that you get to work early... but I don't know what music you listen to, what movies you watch, what you do on weekends."

"Fair point." Nate put the book back. "It's strange how the work environment creates these invisible walls, even between friends."

"Maybe we should fix that," I said, aiming for casual. "How about grabbing a coffee sometime? Not a meeting or a work dinner. Just... coffee. To get to know each other better as people."

Nate looked at me for a few seconds, like he was weighing something important.

"I'd like that," he said at last. "A lot, actually."

"Great." I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest.

We kept walking through the market, and I noticed the strange tension between us since Thursday had faded. Talking about the Beatles and finding things in common felt like building a new bridge, something more solid than the physical pull that was clearly there.

"Hey, Nate?" I said when we reached the end of the antiques section.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For helping me with Tommy, I mean."

"Anytime," he said with a small smile. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Yeah," I agreed, hugging my Abbey Road again. "That's what friends are for."

When we said goodbye at the train station, I realized I was smiling in a way I hadn't in weeks. Not because of some dating app match or a romantic possibility. Just because I'd discovered a new layer of someone I already liked.