Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 249

Chapter 249

Nate’s office was quiet except for the soft tapping of keys and the distant hum of activity outside. We’d been working for almost two hours, reviewing a crucial project for next week’s investor meeting. The focus it required should’ve kept everything clean and professional.

It should have.

But the air between us carried a tension neither of us acknowledged. It felt like the Kensington party had sparked an invisible current, turning every accidental glance, every time our hands almost brushed while passing documents, into something heavy with meaning.

The glass walls didn’t help. I could see people walking through the hallway, some sneaking curious looks our way as if trying to figure out what was happening in here. Ever since the party, it felt like the whole office had gone back to watching me with thinly veiled interest. Like I was some exhibit at a zoo.

“The third-quarter numbers need adjusting here,” I murmured, pointing at a section of the spreadsheet and trying to keep my voice calm and professional.

“Right,” Nate said. He made the correction, but I could tell his attention wasn’t fully on the work.

Then he stopped typing. The silence stretched for a few seconds before he spoke again.

“I wanted to apologize. For what Alexandra did at the party.

I kept my eyes on the laptop screen, pretending to analyze the charts even as my stomach tightened at the memory.

“You don’t have to apologize for her,” I said quietly. “You’re not the one who attacks people just to feel important.”

“Even so.” Nate turned his chair slightly toward me. “She caused a hell of a mess.”

I sighed and finally looked up, meeting his eyes. What I saw there wasn’t just professional concern. It was real.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Ever since the party, the whole office sees me as some gold digger chasing a promotion. Like everything I’ve worked for these past months vanished because of one toxic comment from her.”

And as if on cue, Margaret walked down the hallway, sending an obviously curious glance through the glass as she passed, trying to catch a hint of whatever we might be discussing.

“See?” I murmured, tilting my head subtly in Margaret’s direction.

That’s when Nate did something completely unexpected. In a moment that seemed to surprise even him, he placed his hand over mine on the table. As if trying to reassure me.

But it had the opposite effect. I jerked my hand back instantly, like I’d touched something hot.

“Anyone can see!” I hissed, darting a glance at the glass wall. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Nate had the nerve to smile. A half-smile that was part apology, part amusement.

“Maybe,” he said softly, his voice slipping into a tone that made my heart kick up. “Maybe I’m out of my mind for you.”

I went completely speechless. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Like a fish gasping for air while my brain tried to process what he’d just said.

“That is…” I finally managed. “Inappropriate.”

“I know,” he said. And there was no regret in his voice at all.

Silence settled between us again. Heavy with everything neither of us dared to say. Then Nate shifted, the mood in his voice turning more serious.

“Why didn’t you go to the garden that night?”

The question caught me completely off guard. I’d been avoiding that moment ever since the party. Avoiding the memory of following his signal only to be stopped by Alexandra.

When we finally wrapped up, I gathered my papers fast. I needed to get out of that room. The air felt too charged to breathe normally.

“Annie.”

I stopped at the door, my hand already on the handle.

“Yes?” I turned toward him.

Nate was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. But it made something tighten inside my chest.

“I’m still waiting,” he said. His voice was steady.

I frowned, genuinely confused.

“Waiting for what?”

His eyes locked on mine. Intense. Certain.

“For the conversation we didn’t have in the garden.”

It felt like the floor shifted a little beneath me. There was something in the way he said it. Not a question. Not a hope. A certainty.

“Nate, I…” I started. But the words vanished.

“I’ll wait,” he repeated. Just that.