Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 375

Chapter 375

Marcus’ POV

Alone in my apartment in Belmonte, I paced back and forth across the living room like a caged animal. Ever sce that conversation with Christian and Zoey, my mind had been on fire with everything I’d learned. Madeline Sullivan. Dominic Blackwood. A wedding in one month.

One month. I had thirty days to stop the woman who had made me feel alive again from being swallowed by a marriage that could destroy her.

I poured myself another glass of whiskey and stood by the window, staring out at the blinking lights of Belmonte in the night. Every minute I spent without acting was time wasted. Every hour lost trying to process it all was one less hour to find a solution.

And it wasn’t just about her, I realized. It was about what she had given me, too. The first week of my life where I’d simply been Marcus, not a Kensington. A week where my choices were my own, where I could be exactly who I wanted to be. And now they were trying to take that away from her as well-the freedom to choose her own life.

I grabbed my phone and started making calls. Turns out my last name has its advantages; I wouldn’t pretend otherwise. When you’re a Kensington, you have access to networks most people couldn’t even imagine. Lawyers specialized in corporate intelligence. Consultants who knew where to find information that never made it into public reports. Financial analysts with access to data that few people ever saw.

My first call was to Robert Marquis, a corporate lawyer who had worked for my family before in… delicate situations.

“Marcus?” His voice sounded surprised. “What a pleasure to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

“I need discreet information on two companies,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Sullivan Entertainment, and anything connected to Dominic Blackwood.”

“May I ask why?”

“You can ask,” I replied, keeping my tone friendly but firm, “but I won’t answer. How long do you need?”

“For a Kensington?” he said lightly. “By tomorrow morning.”

The second call went to Helen Castle, a financial consultant who knew the underbelly of the Verdanian market better than any official analyst.

“Helen, I need everything you know about mergers and acquisitions involving family entertainment-and Dominic Blackwood.”

“That’s very specific,” she laughed. “Should I assume there’s a business interest from your family?”

“You can assume whatever you want, as long as you give me what I need.”

“I’ll send you a report by tomorrow.”

The information started coming in late that same night. I was in my home office, surrounded by papers and glowing computer screens, when my phone began vibrating nonstop with messages and emails.

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Chapter 375

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Sullivan Entertainment: A traditional amusement park network founded sixty years ago, responsible for shaping generations of family memories. Over the past decade, the company had faced sharp decline due to competition from international theme parks and changes in consumer behavior. Mounting debt. Attempts to survive through private events and strategic partnerships. Valuable real estate assets, but a failing operation.

Dominic Blackwood: A respected businessman in the mergers and acquisitions sector, specializing in “saving” struggling family companies. Solid reputation in official circles-but there were whispers. Robert didn’t sugarcoat it, “Officially, he’s spotless. Unofficially, his restructurings are too fast and efficient. Some people say the money coming in isn’t always money that should be coming in, if you know what I mean.”

Helen was even more precise. “Blackwood is smart. He buys companies with solid physical infrastructure but broken operations. Then, somehow, they become wildly profitable overnight. How? No one asks, as long as the profits show up on the reports.”

I read and reread everything until patterns began to emerge.

Dominic wasn’t interested in marrying Madeline for love. He was interested in the Sullivan parks as a money- laundering operation. The locations. The established structure. The constant flow of people. The respected family name.

It was the perfect machine for turning dirty money into clean revenue.

And Madeline was the key that opened that door.

That’s when I understood I was dealing with something far bigger and far more dangerous than I’d first imagined. This wasn’t just a controlling man forcing a marriage. It was a sophisticated criminal operation that depended on the legitimacy of the Sullivan name to function.

Instead of scaring me, the realization hardened my resolve. I knew men like Dominic. They respected only power and resources. And if there was one thing a Kensington had, it was access to both.

But brute force wouldn’t be enough. I needed to be smart. Strategic. I had to find a way to reach Madeline without putting her in even more danger, without giving Dominic a reason to accelerate his plans or take drastic

action.

That’s when a sentence came rushing back to me with renewed force. Something Madeline had said during our week together, in one of the rare moments she’d spoken about her real life.

“My cousin is the only person I can still trust.”

Cousin. They lived together. She’d said they were practically sisters.

I froze, repeating it in my head. Cousin… lived together… practically sisters…

The memory sparked an idea that made my heart race. If I couldn’t reach Madeline directly and with Dominic clearly monitoring her every move, that would be impossible, maybe I could reach someone she’d trust with her life.

I picked up the phone again and called Robert.

“I need one more thing,” I said when he answered. “I want information on the Sullivan family. Specifically, a cousin who shares an apartment with Madeline Sullivan.”

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“This is getting interesting,” he remarked. “You want me to find out who she is?”

“I want a name. Address. Phone number. Everything you can get.”

“Marcus… whatever you’re planning, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly who I’m dealing with,” I replied. “They just don’t know who they’re dealing with.”

Forty minutes later, I had my answer.

It

Olivia Sullivan. Madeline’s cousin. She was twenty-seven years old with a degree in occupational therapy. She worked at a yoga studio. They’d been sharing an apartment in Aurora Heights for three years. Robert even had the address.

I checked the time. It was two in the morning, so it was too early to act.

I spent the rest of the night planning-organizing information, mapping out strategies. By the time the sun rose, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I got dressed carefully and grabbed my motorcycle keys. But I didn’t head straight for the address Robert had given me. Showing up at the apartment where Madeline lived would be far too risky.

Instead, I called Robert again.

“I need one more thing about Olivia Sullivan,” I said. “Where does she work? Her daily routine. The places she

goes.’

“Marcus, are you sure that—”

“Robert. Just give me the information.”

Fifteen minutes later, I had what I needed. Olivia taught yoga classes five times a week. She also went to the same café after her morning classes.

Perfect. A “chance” encounter would be much safer.

As I rode toward the yoga studio, one thought hammered through my mind, ‘If I can’t reach Madeline right now, I’ll reach the person she’d trust with her life.’

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