Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 305

Chapter 305

The morning of December 31st arrived with a mental clarity I hadn’t felt in days. I woke up earlier than usual, filled with a sense of determination that had been missing ever since the truth about Wanderer came out. My conversation with Zoey the day before had lifted a weight off my shoulders, one I hadn’t even realized I was carrying. The pressure to feel what I thought I should feel, instead of accepting what I actually felt.

Around nine a.m., my phone buzzed with Nate’s usual morning message. For days, I’d read every single one without replying, stuck between stubbornness and confusion. Today was different.

[Good morning, Annie. I hope you have a wonderful night tonight.]

`I picked up my phone and, for the first time in five days, typed a response.

[See you tonight.]

It was simple. Direct. But heavy with meaning. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t a promise that everything was okay. It was just an acknowledgment that I was ready to talk, to be in the same space and figure out where we stood.

I sent it before I could second-guess myself and immediately set the phone down, resisting the urge to wait for his reply.

The rest of the morning was dedicated to a mission that turned out to be harder than expected: finding the perfect dress for the night. I went through my closet three times, tried on outfits that would normally satisfy me, but nothing felt right for this moment.

I didn’t want anything that screamed I’m trying to impress you. But I also didn’t want something too casual, something that suggested I didn’t care about the event, or about seeing Nate. I needed something that reflected exactly how I felt: determined, elegant, but still a little vulnerable. Confident, but not arrogant.

After hours of indecision, I finally chose a white dress I’d bought months earlier and never had the chance to wear. Elegant without being flashy. Sophisticated without being overdone. The choice felt automatic, almost instinctive. As a Verdanian, wearing white on New Year’s Eve was tradition. It connected me to every New Year I’d spent on the streets of Celesete with my family, surrounded by millions of people dressed in white, waiting for fireworks over the ocean. The fabric flowed in a way that made me feel both feminine and powerful, and the color carried a sense of renewal that felt exactly right.

I spent the rest of the afternoon easing into my prep routine, using each step to calm my nerves. A long bath with scented salts. Careful hair styling, left loose in natural waves. Skincare. Makeup that was more polished than usual, but still soft and natural. Every move was deliberate a way of mentally preparing for what was

ahead.

By nine p.m., I was ready. I looked at my reflection and saw someone I recognized-not the confused, hurt woman from the past few days, but Annie. The version of me who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.

The Uber I’d called arrived right on time at ten. During the ride to the Rosemont Hotel where Kensington had chosen to host their New Year’s Eve event, I tried to keep my rising anxiety in check. It wasn’t exactly nerves about seeing Nate. It was about how that first interaction would go after everything that had happened.

The Rosemont Hotel had been transformed for the night. Golden lights framed the grand façade of the historic

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building, creating a magical atmosphere worthy of one of the most prestigious hotel chains in the world. Luxury cars filled the circular drive, and music and conversation drifted out from inside.

I took a deep breath as I approached the main entrance. Elegantly dressed staff welcomed guests, and through the glowing windows I could see the event already in full swing. Kensington had truly outdone itself-the Rosemont ballroom was legendary, and hosting an event there was a clear statement of prestige and power.

I stepped inside and was immediately enveloped by the festive atmosphere. The ballroom had been transformed into an elegant party space, with gold and silver décor reflecting the light of century-old crystal chandeliers. A live band played in the corner, shifting between smooth jazz and contemporary music. Servers glided through the room with trays of champagne and carefully crafted canapés.

I recognized several familiar faces-Kensington colleagues, important clients, executives from other companies. It was exactly the kind of event Kensington excelled at: elegant, sophisticated, a subtle yet unmistakable display of success and influence.

I took a glass of champagne from a passing server and began to move through the ballroom, greeting familiar faces and engaging in polite, event-appropriate small talk. But part of my attention was constantly scanning the room, searching for one specific person.

I spent several minutes weaving between conversation clusters and obligatory greetings, discreetly looking for Nate. The ballroom was crowded, and it took a while before I had a clear view of the terrace through the open glass doors.

When I finally reached a spot where I could see outside, my heart gave a small, sharp jolt.

There he was.

Nate stood near the terrace railing, flawless in a black tuxedo that highlighted his height and athletic build. He was speaking with three men I recognized as executives from a Eisenwald company Kensington partnered with closely. Even from a distance, I could tell he was being his usual charming, capable, and professional self but there was something different in his posture. A subtle tension that suggested his attention wasn’t fully on the conversation.

Then he turned, as if he felt my gaze.

Our eyes met across the crowded ballroom, and for a moment that seemed to stretch endlessly, the rest of the world disappeared. There was no music, no chatter, no laughter, no clinking of champagne glasses. There was only the two of us, locked in a look across a distance that was both physical and emotional.

Slowly, almost cautiously, a smile spread across Nate’s face. It wasn’t the confident, polished smile he wore at events like this. It wasn’t the seductive one I’d come to recognize, either. This smile was softer. More vulnerable. Hopeful. It was the smile of someone who had feared he might never get the chance to smile at me like this again.

I felt my own lips curve in response, the smile coming instinctively, rising from somewhere deep inside me that had apparently decided it was ready, no matter what my rational mind might still be sorting through.

And there, in the middle of the most elegant party in London, surrounded by hundreds of people and all the complications our situation carried, we smiled at each other as if we were the only two people in the world.

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