Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 388

Chapter 388

Madeline’s POV

The Kensington mansion in Highridge rose before us like something straight out of a fairy tale. When the car f…ally stopped at the top of the hill, I understood exactly what Gwen had meant by private paradise. It wasn’t just the imposing architecture, with its pale stone walls contrasting against the dark roof, or the lush gardens stretching in every direction. It was something more. It was a feeling that time moved differently there, as if we were outside the real world, beyond Dominic and Vivian’s reach.

“Those are the main vineyards,” Gwen said excitedly as we got out of the car, her voice full of family pride. ” Christian modernized the entire irrigation system last year. And over there, way down in the distance, are Zoey’s vineyards. He’s obsessed with them.”

I tried to follow along, but my mind was too overwhelmed. It felt like I was seeing everything through a haze, catching only fragments-the endless rows of vines disappearing into the horizon, the scent of ripe grapes mixed with the cool mountain air, the distant sounds of workers tending the plants with the practiced precision of people who had been doing this for generations.

“If you want, we can take a tour later.”

We were greeted at the main entrance by a woman who radiated the warm efficiency of someone who had managed a household for decades. Her hair was pulled into a flawless bun, and her kind eyes assessed me discreetly before lighting up with a genuine smile.

“Miss Madeline,” she said, holding out her hands with an ease that suggested welcoming pregnant fugitives was part of her daily routine. “I’m Carmen, the housekeeper. Welcome to our home.”

Our home. As if I already belonged there. As if I weren’t a stranger who had arrived on a private jet carrying nothing but the problems I’d managed to escape with.

“I’ll take you to your room so you can settle in,” Carmen continued, guiding me through tastefully decorated hallways where Tuscan landscapes alternated with family photos captured in casual, intimate moments. “Mr. Marcus made sure everything was prepared for your arrival. But if you need anything else at all, just let me know.

Gwen said goodbye in the main hall, promising we’d meet again at dinner and reassuring me once more that I was safe there. Safe. The word echoed in my mind as I followed Carmen up the wooden staircase, which creaked softly beneath our steps.

The room she showed me was on the second floor, with wide windows that offered a breathtaking view of the vineyards. It was spacious yet cozy, decorated in neutral tones that immediately calmed me. A king-sized bed dominated the room, dressed in sheets that looked like they belonged in a luxury design magazine.

“The bathroom is there,” Carmen said, pointing to a door on the right. “And this is the closet Mr. Marcus organized especially for you.”

When she left, finally giving me privacy, I walked toward the closet with a mix of curiosity, apprehension, and fascination. What I found inside left me momentarily speechless.

They weren’t just clothes in my size-they were my style. Casual dresses in soft, flowing fabrics. Blouses in colors I actually wore. Pants with discreet elastic waistbands. There was even lingerie, in gentle tones and

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comfortable cuts, showing a level of attention to detail that made my cheeks heat.

On the vanity, I found a neatly arranged selection of makeup, like something out of a high-end department store. On the shelf near the window, there were books-not generic décor, but titles I recognized. Authors I loved. Some even had markings, as if someone had actually read them.

How did Marcus know all of this? During our week in the Maldives, we had talked about many things, but I didn’t remember mentioning such specific preferences. Unless he was the kind of man who noticed details most people would consider insignificant.

The thought warmed me from the inside and terrified me at the same time.

I decided to take a quick shower, hoping to wash away the tension of the last few hours. The hot water felt like an embrace, loosening muscles I hadn’t even realized were clenched. For a few precious minutes, I managed to pretend I was just a guest in a luxurious country estate with no dramatic escape, no life-altering decisions hanging over my head, and no future of my son at stake.

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a soft robe I’d found hanging on the door, there was a discreet knock at the bedroom door. My heart immediately kicked into overdrive. Was it Marcus?

I hurried over and opened it, but the person standing there wasn’t Marcus.

It was a beautiful woman with wavy brown hair and expressive eyes, holding a baby who looked about a year and a half old. But what made me stop breathing for a full second was the pair of crystal-clear blue eyes staring back at me from her arms.

Blue eyes. Exactly like Marcus’s.

For one terrifying, wonderful moment, I imagined my own son looking at me with those same eyes. Was that what I wanted? For my child to be the son of a man I’d only known for a week? At least it seemed better than the other option… didn’t it?

I honestly didn’t know.

“Hi,” the woman said, smiling warmly, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. “I’m Zoey, and this is Matt.”

Matt babbled something that sounded almost like confirmation, flailing his little arms as if he were agreeing with the introduction.

“Zoey…” I whispered, the name echoing in my memory.

Of course. That night in the Maldives, when I’d asked about the late-night call, when, for one awful second, I’d thought Marcus might be married. Zoey was married to Marcus’s cousin. The mother of the blue-eyed boy now looking at me with innocent curiosity.

Before I could stop myself, I hugged Zoey suddenly, as if clinging to the only solid thing I could grasp in this place. She hugged me back without hesitation, as if she instinctively understood that I needed that genuine human contact.

Not that Gwen wasn’t kind-she was, very much so. But honestly, I had certain triggers when it came to a woman being introduced as a “cousin.” That was exactly how Vivian and Dominic had deceived me for years. Zoey wasn’t like that. She was real. She had her own life, her own child. She wasn’t there to manipulate or control me.

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“Marcus has talked a lot about

,” she said when we pulled apart,

still smiling.

you,”

“Where is he?” I asked, unable to hide the anxiety in my voice.

“Taking care of a feu.

S

e everything’s in order.”

A sharp pang of guilt pierced my chest.

matters,” Zoey replied casually. “You know how it is. He wants to make

“I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble…”

Zoey laughed, the sound genuine and comforting.

“Nonsense!” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “This family runs on chaos. I think they actually enjoy it, otherwise, everything would feel way too boring.”

Her comment made me laugh for the first time in hours, and Matt seemed to approve, clapping his hands excitedly.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know I’m here if you need anything,” Zoey continued.

I looked at her, at the baby in her arms, at the tangible reality they represented in the middle of all the luxurious surrealism surrounding me.

“Actually… I do,” I admitted at last. “I can’t stop thinking—what am I doing here? And what exactly is Marcus’s plan?”

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