Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 255

Chapter 255

Nathaniel’s POV

Christian’s words were still echoing in my head as I walked out of the Kensington building: “Then what the hell are you doing still not going after her?”

He was right. While I sat there obsessing over corporate protocol and worrying about professional fallout, Annie was alone, dealing with a situation Alexandra had engineered with precise cruelty. If I really cared about her- and God, at this point I cared more than I’d been willing to admit I should’ve gone to her hours ago.

London traffic was especially brutal, but it gave me time to figure out what I was going to say once I reached her apartment. How did I explain that I’d failed to protect her in that board meeting? How did I apologize for being the one forced to give her the worst news possible? How did I show her that she mattered to me more than any corporate policy ever could?

That was when I passed the little flower shop on the corner of Regent Street.

It was a quiet place I used occasionally for corporate gifts, run by an older Valentian lady who always put together elegant, understated arrangements. I pulled over, stepped inside, and was immediately met with the scent of fresh flowers and Mrs. Martell’s warm smile.

“Mr. Carter!” she said brightly as she came toward me. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Martell. I need something special. Classic red roses, maybe with some white filler. Elegant, but not too much.”

She nodded enthusiastically and headed straight for the roses.

“Special occasion?”

“You could say that,” I answered, watching her choose each stem with deliberate care. “It needs to be perfect.”

And while she arranged the bouquet, I couldn’t help thinking about the strategy behind the choice. I was picking the exact type of bouquet Wanderer had described to Annie. Classic red roses with delicate white accents. If she made the connection… maybe that was better. Maybe that was an easier, less painful way for her to discover the truth than me stumbling through the confession.

The idea that she might figure it out that the flowers could be a bridge between Nathaniel and Wanderer was strangely comforting.

“All done,” Mrs. Martell said proudly as she handed me the bouquet. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It was perfect. Elegant, romantic, but not over the top.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside Annie’s building. A modern development in Kensington, sleek and upscale—the kind of place designed for people who liked their privacy. I knew the building well; I’d lived in the same complex a few years ago.

The doorman, a middle-aged Irishman, recognized me instantly.

“Mr. Carter!” he said with a wide grin. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Visiting the old stomping grounds?”

“Something like that,” I replied, returning the smile. Truth was, I still owned two units here as investments, so my face wasn’t exactly foreign. “I’m actually here to visit Miss Bennett on the twelfth floor.”

“Ah, the Verdanian girl,” Thompson nodded. “Sweet one, that. Surprise for her?” He motioned to the bouquet.

“Exactly. Can I go up without being announced? I want it to be… well, a surprise.”

Thompson considered me for a moment, but the trust we’d built over the years worked in my favor.

“Of course, Mr. Carter. Go on up. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

Even so, the interruption brought a wash of pure relief. I needed a break, just ten seconds to breathe to pull myself together before dealing with whatever mess Marcus had just restarted.

“One second,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair in a rushed attempt to look less like emotional roadkill.

I walked to the door, inhaling deeply to settle my racing pulse. Whoever it was, I’d handle it quickly and then come back to end things with Marcus properly.

I opened the door… and the floor might as well have disappeared beneath me.

Nate stood there. Immaculate in a dark coat, hair slightly mussed as if he’d raked his hands through it a dozen times in nervous frustration. But what truly stole the breath from my lungs was the bouquet he held.

Red roses. Classic, velvety, heartbreakingly beautiful.

With delicate white flowers tucked between them.

Exactly the kind Wanderer had described.

Nate took a small step toward me, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes-raw sincerity he almost never let anyone see.

“Annie, I’m so sorry,” he began, his voice low and thick with emotion I couldn’t fully name. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened and-”

Before he could finish, Marcus’s voice cut through the apartment like a blade, “What are you doing here?”