Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 256

Chapter 256

Nathaniel’s POV

For a moment, I just stared at Annie standing in the doorway-her hair slightly tousled, her expression frozen in absolute shock. But my gaze quickly drifted past her, into the apartment… to him.

Marcus.

Relaxed on her couch like it belonged to him. Leaned back with that casual, arrogant posture meant to broadcast control. One arm draped along the backrest, legs spread just enough to make a point, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Everything about him screamed possession-of the space, of the moment… maybe even of Annie.

The air thickened instantly, turning heavy and sharp. Without waiting for permission-but without asking, either-I stepped inside with controlled, deliberate movements, closing the door behind me. The click echoed like a declaration of war.

“What are you doing here?” I shot back, keeping my voice low but firm enough to leave no room for games.

Marcus’s smirk widened, clearly entertained by my unexpected appearance. He didn’t stand or even shift. Instead, he settled even deeper into the cushions, making it very clear he had no intention of leaving.

“Christian sent me,” he said with infuriating calm. “To fix the mess…” He paused, eyes locking with mine, the challenge unmistakable. “Well, the mess you made.”

My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to stay composed. Marcus was playing some sort of subtle power game. I, however, was not in the mood.

“Christian sent you into Annabelle’s apartment?” I asked, dripping sarcasm.

Marcus let out a low laugh that dug under my skin like a thorn. It was the laugh of a man who thought he held all the cards.

“No,” he admitted easily. “I came here on my own.”

The blunt honesty caught me off guard. At least he wasn’t dressing his intentions up with excuses. There was something almost admirable about the directness.

Before I could respond, Annie cut in, clearly worn out by the tension crackling through her living room.

“Okay, enough,” she said, arms folded tight across her chest. “Marcus, you were just about to leave. Weren’t you?”

She wasn’t asking. She was telling. And I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. She wanted him gone and this entire situation to stop spiraling.

But Marcus, instead of standing like any decent human being would’ve, leaned back even further. It was a calculated move-a quiet refusal.

“Actually… no,” he said lightly. “I’m not done here yet.”

Then he turned to me, eyes glinting with barely disguised provocation.

“And you, Nathaniel… what brings you here with flowers?”

The question hung in the air like a dare.

I glanced down at the bouquet in my hands-suddenly hyperaware of how exposed it made me feel. What had seemed like the perfect idea earlier now felt like a spotlight aimed right at every emotion I hadn’t said out loud.

I inhaled deeply, channeling every ounce of corporate composure I owned. Then I stepped closer to Annie, the bouquet between us… but as I did, my fingers brushed against the small card tucked into the arrangement.

In one swift, almost invisible motion, I slipped the card free and tucked it into the inside pocket of my coat before offering her the flowers.

But none of that could happen with Marcus lounging on her sofa like he owned the place.

I turned toward the door. I could feel both their gazes on my back-Annie’s, confused and maybe relleved, Marcus’s, smug with victory in this particular round of an unspoken tug-of-war.

I stepped into the hallway, already several paces away, when I heard, “Nate…”

My name drifted out like a fragile whisper-soft, hesitant, wrapped in something I couldn’t decipher.

I turned.

Annie stood in the doorway, bouquet pressed to her chest like a shield. Her expression was unreadable- vulnerable and guarded all at once.

We stared at each other in silence. And in that silence lived everything we weren’t saying-apologies, explanations, truths neither of us had the courage to voice, promises neither of us could make out loud.

Eventually she broke it, her voice low but steady.

“Thank you for the flowers. I mean… thank the team at the office for me.”

I held her gaze, letting the weight of the truth settle between us. That they weren’t from the office. That I had chosen each rose myself. That she mattered to me-more than my title, more than protocol, more than I had any right to admit.

Finally, I gave a small nod.

“I will.”

And then I turned away, walking down the hallway, the quiet thud of my footsteps echoing all the things I didn’t say until the elevator doors swallowed me whole.