Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 395

Chapter 395

Madeline’s POV

Marcus found me again while I was still processing my conversation with Mia, standing at the bar with the non- alcoholic drink Zoey had ordered for me. The pink liquid sat untouched in front of me, condensation forming tiny droplets on the glass.

“Escaping the party?” he asked with a smile, stepping closer and resting an elbow on the bar beside me.

“Just… breathing,” I replied, forcing a smile. “That’s a lot of new people all at once.”

“Sorry about that. When the Kensington family gathers, it’s always a production,” he said, gesturing toward the lively party around us. “Want to dance? I promise I won’t introduce you to anyone else.”

I took his outstretched hand, and he led me to where a few couples were dancing under warm, golden lights. The music was soft-Valentian, I thought-something I didn’t recognize, but it created an intimate atmosphere despite the dozens of guests surrounding us.

Marcus pulled me close, one hand settling at my waist, the other intertwined with mine. We danced in silence for a few minutes, and little by little, I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.

“I bet you always imagined getting married at a vineyard in Serra Gaúcha,” he said, slipping back into our familiar guessing game. “Just not to a near stranger.

Marcus laughed, that low, genuine sound I was starting to associate with moments when he relaxed around me.

“Now that we’re married,” he said, spinning me gently before pulling me back in, “I think we’re past the ‘no personal details’ rule. You can ask me anything. No guesses.”

“I like the mystery,” I replied, trying to keep things light.

“Of course you do,” he said, smiling.

“I bet you leave wet towels on the bed,” I continued. “And that you check your emails every night before going to sleep.”

“I bet you sleep hugging a pillow,” he shot back, “and that you always check if the door is locked, twice.”

We laughed and kept dancing, and for a moment, I almost managed to pretend we were just a normal couple celebrating our wedding. Almost managed to forget all the complicated circumstances that had brought us there.

Almost.

But Mia’s words were still echoing in my head, and eventually I couldn’t hold back the question that had been eating at me.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I meant it to.

Marcus kept moving with me, but I felt a subtle shift in his hold, like he was choosing his answer carefully.

“I mean…” I went on. “This baby might be yours, but you offered help even before we knew that.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the carefree sound from before. There was something deeper in it now. Almost

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melancholy.

“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “But… I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let love slip out of my life

if it ever knocked on my door.”

My stomach twisted not with nausea this time, but with something far more complicated.

“And after you showed up in front of me wearing a wedding dress, and after the incredible week we had in the Maldives…” he continued, looking straight into my eyes, “I figured destiny couldn’t have been any clearer.”

His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. I stopped dancing abruptly, forcing him to stop too.

“But that’s not it, is it?” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “This isn’t about love. There hasn’t been time for that.”

Marcus studied me for a moment, as if deciding just how honest to be.

“I don’t want to sound overly emotional,” he said at last. “That’s definitely not my style. It’s not about love- but it is about passion, connection, attraction…”

He paused, brushing his thumb over my hand, which he still held.

“Love,” he said quietly, “love is something you build when both people are willing.’

That word again. Willingness. I was starting to hate the word.

“And are you?” I asked. “Willing?”

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“Of course I am,” he replied without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have done any of this if I wasn’t.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his honesty.

For him, it was about destiny. About connection. About choosing to build something real together. For me… for me, it was about an incredible man doing everything he could to help me-and me accepting that help because I didn’t have another choice.

There was attraction, yes. The way my body reacted when he touched me was undeniable. But what else was there? Gratitude? Relief? Hope?

I didn’t know if that was enough to build the kind of love he was talking about.

“Madeline?” His voice pulled me back. “Where did you go?”

“I was thinking,” I admitted.

“About what?”

“About how I don’t know if I deserve all this… dedication.”

Marcus stopped dancing completely and looked at me with a seriousness that made my throat tighten.

“This isn’t about deserving,” he said firmly. “It’s about choosing. I chose to help you. I chose to marry you. I chose to believe we can build something real together.”

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“And what if I can’t give that back?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Then we try until we can,” he said simply. “Or until we realize it won’t work. But at least we try.”

As the night wore on and the guests began to leave, the party slowly lost its energy. Goodbyes were exchanged, cars pulled away, and the garden lights felt less magical and more tired.

Marcus took my hand.

“Shall we?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, letting him guide me away from the reception and back toward the mansion. For a brief moment, I remembered how he’d carried me to the bungalow in the Maldives that first night. This time, he was more restrained, as if the reality of our situation made everything less cinematic, more grounded.

He just held my hand and led me inside.

We climbed the stairs in silence, the sound of our footsteps echoing through the halls. When we reached his room, he closed the door behind us gently.

The bedroom was larger than the one I’d been using, decorated in a more masculine but still elegant style. The king-size bed took up most of the space, and near the windows overlooking the vineyards there was a small sitting area.

Marcus approached me slowly, as if giving me time to pull away. To say no.

“Let me help you with that,” he said softly, his hands finding the zipper at the back of my dress.

I felt his fingers work carefully at the fastening, and when the zipper began to slide down, his lips brushed my neck. The kiss was gentle and a shiver ran down my spine.

“Marcus…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish.

“Shh,” he murmured against my skin. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just… stay with me.”

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