Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 228

Chapter 228

Friday morning I got to the office fifteen minutes early, hoping for a little quiet before the day exploded. But the second I stepped into our room, I froze.

On my desk sat a massive bouquet of red roses, at least two dozen of them arranged perfectly in an elegant crystal vase. The soft scent hit me before I even walked over.

“Okay,” Gwen said, peeking over her computer screen with a deadly serious expression, “you want to explain this?”

I rushed to the flowers like a kid on Christmas morning, searching for a card. A small white envelope was tucked between the petals. My hands trembled as I opened it.

“The first of many.”

My heart skipped. There was no signature, but I knew exactly who sent it.

It all started when Wanderer and I kept going with our question game. It was my turn, and I picked something I’d always been curious about.

[Third question: What’s one experience you’ve never had but would love to live someday?]

His answer surprised me.

Wanderer: [I’ve always wanted to go skydiving. Something about flying has fascinated me since I was a kid. The idea of seeing the entire world spread out under you, of having those minutes of complete freedom in the air… it must be life changing.]

[Why skydiving specifically?]

Wanderer: [Because it feels like the perfect mix of freedom and trust. You trust the equipment, the training, but you also have to surrender to the moment. It’s the opposite of the control we cling to every day. I imagine it must feel like real flight. Not sitting on a plane, but actually flying.]

[Wow, I never thought of it like that. It must be incredible.]

Wanderer: [And you? What would your experience be?]

It was just him tossing the question back, which didn’t count as a new one. But for some reason, I felt this pull to be honest.

[Mine is going to sound incredibly ordinary next to skydiving… I’ve never been given flowers by a man. I mean, my dad gave me flowers at my graduation, and my brother Matthew once brought me dandelions he ‘picked’ at the park when he was five But never… from someone I was dating or someone interested in me.]

TH

exposed. It was a strange confession to make to a stranger, but something about want to be real.

[Seriously? How has no one ever given you flowers?]

I guess I was never taken seriously enough for a romantic gesture like that. I’ve always been the funny girl, the cool friend, the temporary adventure… but never the woman who inspires something classic. Flowers are for when someone wants to show something special, something lasting.]

Wanderer:[“That’s impossible. Any man who doesn’t see you as someone worth flowers is missing an incredible chance. Sometimes the simplest gestures are the most meaningful.]

[You really think so?]

Wanderer: [I’m absolutely sure. A woman who connects Debussy to Verdanian coffee, who makes clever Hitchcock references, who is curious enough to ask about skydiving… that woman deserves every flower in the world.]

Our conversation had left me with a strange mix of sadness and hope last night. But now, staring at the perfect roses on my desk, I felt something completely different.

“Annie,” Gwen said, pulling me out of my thoughts, “the flowers are beautiful, but who sent them?”

I handed her my phone and she skimmed through our messages from the night before.

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Charles was a compulsive liar. David cursed me out over text…’

“Those were from apps too,” Gwen cut in, pointing at me.

I thought of Marcus. That hadn’t exactly been a success story either. But before I could say anything, Gwen continued.

“I’m talking about meeting people organically. At work, at events, through friends…”

“Okay,” I said, looking at the flowers again. “Then introduce me to an interesting man from the real world and I’ll delete the app.”

Gwen smiled and held out her hand.

“Deal.”

I looked at the red roses, still feeling that confusing blend of happiness and dread. Part of me wanted so badly to believe Wanderer was exactly who he seemed in his messages. Smart. Attentive. Truly interested. But the rational part of my brain, the one that sounded suspiciously like Gwen’s voice, kept whispering that men who hid behind anonymous profiles rarely came with good intentions.

“Can I at least keep the flowers?” I asked. “No matter who sent them, they’re beautiful.”

“Of course. Just put them away from your desk. We don’t want to send the message that you’re okay with what he did.”

I picked up the vase and moved it to a side table, away from my workstation. The roses kept filling the room with their scent, reminding me every minute of the decision I had just made.

Or at least the decision Gwen had just talked me into.