Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 220

I walked back to the table with steady steps, my irritation boiling. How dare Nate judge me? As if his thing with Alexandra was some shining example of romantic perfection.

When I reached the table, Charles was in the middle of some obviously fabricated story about his academic "adventures" for Margaret, who looked politely bored.

"Sorry for the delay," I said as I sat down again.

"Charles was telling us about the time he discovered a rare manuscript in a library in Oxford," Gwen said, her eyes sparkling with barely hidden amusement.

"Yes," Charles confirmed enthusiastically. "A manuscript from the... uh... sixteenth century. Very rare. About... knights."

Sixteenth century? Knights? Even I knew medieval knights came from much earlier.

"How interesting," I managed, taking a long sip of my drink.

Gwen shot me a look that clearly said, "what crap did you bring here?" and I couldn't blame her.

Charles kept talking, adding more details to his imaginary academic career, and somehow he managed to entertain the whole table. The issue was that no one was laughing with him, they were laughing at him. Every new invention about medieval dragons and "magic swords found in excavations" made James hide a smile behind his wine glass, while Margaret pretended to cough to cover a laugh.

The shame hit me physically, like someone had dumped ice water over my head. There I was, the woman who prided herself on being smart and perceptive, and I had brought a complete fraud to impress a group of sophisticated colleagues. And worse, everyone was having a great time at the expense of my terrible judgment.

"Charles," I cut in, unable to listen to another second of his "imaginary archaeological discoveries." "How about we go dance for a bit?"

"Great idea!" He stood up right away, clearly relieved to escape the informal interrogation.

I led him to the small dance floor where a few people swayed to a soft song. At least away from the table, he couldn't keep embarrassing us both with his ridiculous stories.

"You're beautiful, Annabelle," Charles said as soon as we reached the floor, placing his hands on my waist. "Even prettier than in your photos."

"Thanks," I murmured, trying to smile.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same. His photos were either ancient or heavily edited, because the man in front of me looked nothing like the charming professor from his profile.

"Really," he went on, pulling me a bit closer. "When I saw you at the entrance, I thought, wow, I'm lucky."

"That's kind," I replied automatically, focusing on the music and trying to forget the disaster at the table.

"You have beautiful eyes," he said, leaning in closer. "And that mouth..."

The intensity in his stare made me uncomfortable, but I tried to stay polite.

"Charles, maybe we should talk about something else?"

"Why talk when we can enjoy the moment?" he whispered, his hands starting to slide lower than my waist.

"You're so different from the other women I met on the app," he continued, one hand drifting to my lower back. "More... sophisticated."

"Charles," I said gently, trying to guide his hands back to where they belonged. "You're a little too close."

"Relax," he whispered in my ear, his breath thick with alcohol. "We're adults, aren't we?"

His hands grew bolder, one slipping to my hip as he pulled me against him.

"Stop, Charles," I said more firmly, placing my hands on his chest to put some distance between us.

"When you put your hands on a woman in front of me, it becomes my business."

Charles looked around and realized a crowd was forming. The music had stopped, and people had circled around us.

"This is a misunderstanding," he muttered, clearly aware he had lost the upper hand.

"The only misunderstanding here," Nate said, adjusting the cuff of his shirt, "is you thinking you can treat a woman like that."

Charles looked at me as if expecting me to defend him, but I was shaking too hard to speak. Not from fear, but from a tangled mix of rage, humiliation, and, strangely enough, relief.

"I... I'm leaving," Charles muttered at last, realizing there was no graceful way out.

"Good idea," Nate said coldly.

I watched Charles hurry off the dance floor, shoving people aside as he disappeared toward the exit.

Only then did I notice I was still trembling.

"Are you okay?" Nate asked, his voice much softer now, full of concern.

"I'm fine," I managed, though I wasn't entirely sure.

"Let's get out of here," he said gently, placing a protective hand on my back and guiding me away from the staring crowd.

And for the first time that night, I felt safe.