Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 359

Chapter 359

Madeline’s POV

I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after he went out to take the call. I pretended to be asleep when I heard his careful footsteps leaving the bed, but the truth was I stayed wide awake, listening to fragments of the conversation drifting in from the deck.

I couldn’t hear everything, but certain words reached me with unsettling clarity: “board,” “family,” “Matt,” and, most of all, an excited female voice shouting something about a baby. Zoey. That was the name I caught. A woman named Zoey talking about first words, about “Daddy” and “Mommy.”

Lying there in the dark, it was impossible not to connect the dots in a way that made my stomach twist. A man taking calls in the middle of the night, talking about family, about a baby, with a woman who clearly had enough intimacy to call him at any hour. The conclusions felt almost too obvious.

When he finally came back inside, trying to be quiet, I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds longer. But the tightness in my chest was unbearable. I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard anything. I couldn’t lie there acting like everything was fine when every instinct I had was screaming that I was about to make a mistake.

I opened my eyes and found him standing in the middle of the room, still holding his phone. Even in the low light, I could see the look of someone caught off guard.

“Are you married?” The question came out blunt, with no cushioning. There was no gentle way to ask it.

He looked at me with an expression that mixed surprise with something that almost resembled amusement. For a second, I thought he might laugh, and that only made my nerves worse.

“If I were married, do you really think I’d be here with you?” he tried to ask, but I shook my head before he could finish.

“Not this time,” I said, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet around me. “I don’t want half-answers. I don’t want games. I don’t want riddles. I want a straight answer.”

The shift in my tone must have been obvious, because I saw his posture change instantly. The playful edge disappeared, replaced by seriousness.

“I heard the call, Apollo,” I said. “I heard you talking about family. About a baby. About a woman named Zoey.”

“You heard pieces of a conversation-”

“Enough pieces,” I cut him off. “And look, I get that we have this agreement about not sharing personal information. But this is different. I don’t want to be involved with a committed man.”

“Involved?” he repeated, and there was something provocative in the way he said it, like he was weighing the word carefully.

Heat crept up my neck. Maybe I’d revealed more than I meant to about how I felt, but it was too late to back out

now.

“You know what I mean,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Even if it’s just this week. Even if it’s only what we agreed on. I don’t want to be the other woman. I don’t want to do to someone else what was done to me.

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Mentioning my own wound seemed to hit him harder than I expected. His expression softened completely, and he approached the bed slowly.

“I’m not married,” he said, and there was a firmness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I’m not taken. I don’t have a girlfriend. There’s no one waiting for me back home.”

“Then who is Zoey? And the baby?”

“Zoey is my cousin’s wife. Matt is their son,” he explained, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The call was about work. I only answered because, in Verdania, it was still a reasonable hour, and… well, eighty percent of the time my cousin calls, it’s either work or family.”

I watched him closely, searching for signs of a lie-hesitation, tension, anything that might suggest he wasn’t being completely honest. But his posture stayed relaxed, and his eyes held mine steadily.

“Do you really think I could disappear for an entire week like this, to the Maldives, if I had a wife and a baby waiting for me at home?” he added, and the question made more sense than I wanted it to.

It was a fair point. What married man, especially one with a newborn, could just vanish to the Maldives without explanations? And the way he was with me, the attention, the intensity… none of it felt compatible with someone who had obligations elsewhere.

I felt the weight of my suspicion ease little by little, though part of me still resisted fully letting go. Maybe it was just my instinct for self-preservation refusing to stand down completely.

“Okay,” I finally conceded. “I believe you.”

“Thank you,” he said, and he genuinely looked relieved. “But I just gave you way too much personal information, didn’t I? I broke our agreement.”

“It was necessary,” I replied.

“Still,” he said, smiling, and there was something mischievous’in that smile that immediately put me on edge.” Now you owe me one too.”

“What do you mean?”

“One personal detail,” he explained, settling more comfortably on the bed, closer to me. “Just to keep things balanced. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

I considered it. In a way, he was right. I’d pushed for answers. I’d broken our rule about personal information first. It only seemed fair that I gave something in return.

“Fair,” I agreed. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said, and there was something dangerously seductive in his voice. “But I’ll use it at the right moment.”

A shiver ran down my spine at that. It wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it, like a promise that went far beyond a simple exchange of information. Like he was holding onto that card, waiting to play it when it would have the greatest possible effect.

“That’s not very fair,” I protested, though my voice came out weaker than I meant it to.

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“Why not?” he leaned slightly toward me. “You chose when to ask your question. Now it’s my turn to choose when to ask mine.”

“And what if I don’t want to answer?”

“Then we’ll find out what happens when you break an agreement with me,” he replied, and there was something both threatening and thrilling in his tone.

I swallowed hard, realizing that the game between us had shifted completely. It wasn’t just about secrecy or mystery anymore. It had turned into something more complex. More dangerous. More… intimate.

“Are you trying to scare me?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound braver than I felt.

“I’m trying to keep you interested,” he replied, smiling in that way that made my heart race.

And in that moment, I realized he’d achieved exactly what he wanted. My distrust had turned into curiosity. My irritation had turned into anticipation. And now I was lying there, wide awake in the middle of the night, wondering what question he would ask and when he’d decide to ask it.

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