Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 270

Chapter 270

The café I picked had that quintessential London charm I could never resist-exposed brick walls, weathered wooden tables, and the comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee mixing with the soft murmur of early- morning conversations. I’d taken a ride with Nate, who’d dropped me off before heading to the office-not without giving me a gentle kiss that still made my heart race every time I replayed it.

I had texted Marcus early, right after waking up. We needed to talk, and I preferred a neutral space-somewhere away from the office and all the curious eyes. He arrived exactly on time, as always.

“Good morning,” he said as he approached the table where I’d chosen to sit, right by the window facing the busy street.

“Good morning, Marcus,” I replied, motioning for him to sit. “Thanks for coming.”

He settled into the chair across from me, ordered an espresso from the waitress who appeared instantly, and studied me with that keen, probing look he always used when he was trying to read a situation.

“So,” he said once we were alone again, “have you made your decision?”

I took a deep breath, knowing this conversation would shape a lot-not just for me. All morning, ever since I’d in Nate’s bed with the soft dawn light filtering through the curtains, I’d known exactly what I needed woken to say.

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“I’ve decided not to go to Kensington Ascia,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I sounded. “I’m staying here. I’ll keep working with Nate.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows slightly—a subtle reaction that revealed his surprise, though there was no hostility in it. If anything, it felt like he’d half expected this answer, even if part of him had hoped for the opposite.

“You two talked about it?” he asked, taking the coffee the waitress set down and stirring in sugar with thoughtful, steady movements.

I couldn’t stop a small, ironic laugh as the memory flashed through my mind-the tense conversation Nate and I had had at his house, and how it had ended in a way neither of us had anticipated.

“Yes,” I said, tracing the handle of my mug with my fingertip. “He basically laid everything out in a pros-and- cons chart in a frame. And there were no cons.”

Marcus smiled, instantly recognizing Nate’s overly analytical, overly logical approach to anything emotionally complicated.

“And then?”

“And then…” I paused, thinking of the words Nate had told me the night before… that my opinion was the only one that mattered. “The final decision is mine. And I belong in London.”

I watched his reaction carefully. There was a resigned acceptance in his eyes, but also something else that looked a little like relief. As if, in some strange way, my answer lifted a weight off his shoulders too.

“Is this a more personal decision than a professional one?” he asked, with the kind of subtle intuition I’d always admired in him, even when it bordered on intrusive.

I hesitated, knowing complete honesty might be uncomfortable for both of us, but deciding he deserved it anyway.

“Maybe,” I admitted quietly.

Marcus nodded slowly, as if he were processing not only my answer but his own emotions about it. Then, to my complete surprise, he let out a soft, almost amused laugh before saying something so unexpected it made my mind stutter.

Marcus stood, set down a few notes to cover our coffees, and pulled me into a warm hug that carried months of shared history and a quiet, definitive goodbye to possibilities that were never meant to be.

“Good luck, Annabelle Bennett,” he murmured against my hair. “Try not to get into too much trouble.”

I smiled against his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit and the familiar cologne that always reminded me of a simpler time between us.

“But that’s my charm,” I teased, repeating something he used to say about me back when we worked together in Verdania.

“Yeah… it is,” he agreed, pulling back slightly to look at me with that genuine, amused smile of his. “Take care.”

I watched him leave the café with that confident stride that had always been so unmistakably him, waving one last time before he disappeared into the morning crowd on the streets of London. I felt a deep sense of relief that we were okay-that we’d managed to close that chapter of our lives without bitterness or harsh words.

But the peace didn’t last. As soon as I sat back down and wrapped my hands around my coffee cup again, a question that had haunted me for weeks came crashing back with full force.

How was it possible to be in love with two men at the same time?

One of them Nate, was now part of my reality in a way that still made me dizzy whenever I thought about it. Every touch, every look, every whispered word in the quiet intimacy of his home had created a connection deeper than anything I’d ever known.

But Wanderer… Wanderer lingered in my mind with the same intensity, even when I was in another man’s arms. How could someone I’d never met in person occupy so much space in my thoughts and in my heart? How could his words, his deep questions, our emotional connection through messages and that one intimate phone call compete with the tangible, undeniable reality of what I had with Nate?

I stared down at my cup, watching the thin wisp of steam rise from the dark surface, lost in my thoughts and in the impossible complexity of a situation that had no simple answers.