Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 226

Chapter 226

By around three in the afternoon, I finally managed to stop obsessing over Wanderer’s message long enough to come up with a decent reply. I’d spent the whole day with those words echoing in my head. ‘A good conversation … that’s far rarer.’ Every time I reread it, I got caught on the elegance of that line.

I typed and deleted half a dozen replies before settling on something that felt natural but still clever: [I loved the Raymond Burr reference. And I agree, good conversations are rarer than casual dates. How about this: we each get ten questions, and if we still like each other at the end, we schedule a date. Do you accept the challenge?]

I hit send before I could lose my nerve. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on my work, checking my phone every fifteen minutes like an idiot.

The reply came around five: [Brilliant idea. Ten questions is enough to learn the essentials without ruining the mystery. May I start?]

“Of course. Go ahead.”

I braced myself for something basic. Age, job, whether I lived alone. The kind of thing every guy on dating apps wants to know right away. Instead, he sent: [If you had to pick a song to represent a perfect cup of coffee on a rainy London morning, what would it be? And why?]

I actually froze for a second. What kind of question was that?

It wasn’t about personal stats or practical info. It was… artistic. Poetic. The kind of question you ask if you actually want to understand how someone’s mind works, not just collect facts about them.

I thought for a few minutes before replying: [“‘Clair de Lune’ by Debussy. It has that soft melancholy that fits rain, but also a quiet elegance that makes the moment feel bigger. And the coffee would have to be Verdanian, of course. A mountain blend, sweet enough to skip sugar, with just enough acidity to wake you completely. Why that question?]

[Because anyone can find your age or job by looking you up. But the way you connect music, weather, and flavor says more about who you really are. And from your answer, I’m guessing you understand that the best moments are made of details.]

My heart flipped. How did someone come up with such a perfect question? And how was his response somehow even better?

I was halfway through typing my first question when Margaret appeared at our door.

“Annie, sorry to interrupt, but can you review these reports before tomorrow?” she asked, holding a thick folder. “The Franconian investors want a detailed analysis of the Verdanian market before the next meeting.”

“Of course, Margaret. You can leave them here.”

I set my phone aside and tried to focus on the documents. But it was hard to concentrate on market analysis while my brain was still processing that conversation. There was something about the way Wanderer wrote, something deliberate and careful.

“You’re glowing today,” Gwen said, peeking at me over her monitor. “Something happen?”

“Maybe,” I said with a smile, flipping through the reports. “Remember Wanderer?”

“The mystery guy from the app? What did he do now?”

“We started a game. Ten questions each to see if we’re compatible.”

“Interesting. And what kind of question did he ask?”

“Music and coffee. Specifically which song represents a perfect cup of coffee on a rainy morning.”

Gwen frowned.

“That’s… specific. And weird.”

“I thought it was smart. It’s different from the usual predictable questions.”

“Or it’s the kind of question someone asks when they’re trying to sound more interesting than they actually are.

When I finally packed up to go home, it was almost nine. I checked my phone before leaving, but nothing had changed in the chat. Maybe Wanderer had a long day too.

On the way home, I found myself thinking about the question I’d asked. Reliving a moment only as an observer… it was a vulnerable question. It could reveal a lot. What would he choose? Something joyful, like a big achievement? Something painful, like a goodbye? Something from childhood? Or something recent?

And what would I answer if he asked me the same thing? Probably a moment with my family, when we were all younger and life felt simpler. Or maybe… maybe that flight to London, to finally understand what had happened between me and Nate.

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. This was exactly how I got myself into trouble. Overthinking, connecting dots that weren’t there, searching for hidden meaning in things that didn’t need it.

When I got home, I made a quick sandwich and settled on the couch with a glass of wine. The phone stayed quiet, but it didn’t bother me as much as I expected. There was something oddly pleasant about the anticipation, about wondering how he’d answer.

Around ten, while I was half watching a random documentary, my phone finally buzzed.

It was a notification from the app.

My heart jumped as I grabbed the phone and opened the message:

[Such a hard question… I think I’d choose to relive the moment I discovered my love for music. I was in an old bookshop when I heard someone playing piano upstairs. The piece was so beautiful that I went up to see who it was, and I ended up spending three hours talking to an old man about Chopin. That’s when I realized music wasn’t just sound, it was emotion turned into art. And you? Which moment would you choose?]

I smiled at the screen. The answer was poetic without trying too hard, personal without crossing lines. There was something about him in an old bookstore, listening to piano, talking to a stranger about classical music that felt… real.

But it also opened more questions. Did he play piano? Did he compose? Did he work in music? The more I learned about Wanderer, the more curious I became.

be Gwen was right and I was too romantic for my own good. But maybe, just maybe, this time I’d found eone who deserved that part of me.

There was only one way to find out. Keep playing the game.