Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415

Marcus’ POV

I woke up to Madeline shifting restlessly beside me. The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:45 a.m., and she was clearly struggling to find a comfortable position. She turned to one side, then the other, sighed, adjusted her pillow, and started the whole cycle again.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, turning to face her in the dim light of the room.

“Yes,” she replied quickly, but kept tossing around, unable to stay still.

I watched her for a few more minutes as she changed positions over and over, clearly unsettled by something. It was obvious she wasn’t sleeping, and that worried me. After everything she’d been through over the past few weeks, rest was essential.

“Madeline,” I said gently, placing a hand on her arm to calm her. “You don’t need to worry so much. We’re taking care of everything. No one can hurt you here. You’re safe. The baby is safe…”

“That’s not it,” she interrupted, her voice edged with frustration that caught me off guard.

“Then what is it?” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow so I could look at her better. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

There was a long pause, and even in the darkness I could tell she was embarrassed.

“It’s just that…” she began hesitantly. “I have this uncontrollable urge to eat something completely bizarre and probably very hard to find in Castoria. And I can’t sleep because of it. It’s like my brain refuses to think about anything else.”

I couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh. Pregnancy cravings. Of course.

I got out of bed and started feeling around in the dark for my clothes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up and watching me grab a pair of jeans.

“I’m going to get it,” I said simply, pulling them on and reaching for a shirt.

“Get it?” her voice jumped an octave. “At this hour? Marcus, that’s impossible. It’s almost three in the morning!

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“Go back to sleep,” I said, already heading for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“But Marcus, I haven’t even told you what I want!”

I stopped at the door and turned back to her.

“Then tell me.”

“Tapioca with coconut ice cream and guava paste,” she said quickly, as if the words had escaped before she could reconsider. “I know it sounds insane, but that’s exactly what I need to eat right now.”

“It doesn’t sound insane,” I lied, doing my best not to show just how unusual that combination actually was. I’ll be right back.”

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The truth was, it sounded completely insane. But it was also true that I would do anything to see her sleep peacefully. If she wanted tapioca with coconut ice cream and guava paste at three in the morning, then that was exactly what she was going to get.

I left the house quietly, careful not to wake anyone, and got into my car. The drive to Florentia would take about an hour, but I knew people who could help me, even in the middle of the night.

As I drove along the empty Castorian roads, I called Robert, a chef who worked at one of the restaurants we frequented and who owed me a few favors. It took several rings before he answered, and when he did, his voice was thick with sleep.

“Marcus? What the hell, it’s three thirty in the morning…”

“Robert, I need a favor. Urgently,” I cut in. “I need sweet tapioca starch, coconut milk, coconut ice cream, and Verdanian guava paste. Now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“I’m completely serious. My… my wife is pregnant and having cravings. This is an emergency.”

Robert let out an audible sigh.

“Sweet tapioca starch is going to be impossible, but I can try to make something similar with potato starch. I have coconut milk, I can improvise coconut ice cream. Verdanian guava paste… that’s trickier, but I do have guava jam that might work. Meet me at the restaurant in an hour.”

“Thank you, Robert. I owe you.”

“You owe me several now,” he muttered before hanging up.

I reached Florentia while the city was still completely asleep. Robert met me at the restaurant’s back door,

lding a bag of ingredients and wearing the expression of a man who was convinced I had finally lost my mind.

hope she’s worth it,” he said, handing me the bag.

“She is,” I replied without hesitation.

I drove back faster than I should have, anxious to get home before Madeline woke up. By the time I reached the kitchen on the property, it was almost five in the morning, and the sky was just starting to lighten.

I had never made tapioca in my life, but how hard could it be? I mixed the potato starch with a bit of coconut milk until it turned into a sticky dough, then spread it in a nonstick pan. While the “tapioca” cooked, though I seriously doubted it resembled the real thing, I got the improvised coconut ice cream ready and opened the jar of guava jam.

I went upstairs quietly, but when I walked into the bedroom, Madeline was already awake, sitting on the bed and waiting for me. Her eyes lit up when she saw the plate in my hands, but her nose immediately wrinkled as the smell reached her.

“Oh my God, what is that smell?” she asked, covering her nose with her hand.

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Chapter 415

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“Your tapioca with coconut ice cream and guava,” I said proudly, offering her the plate.

What happened next was completely unexpected. Madeline looked at the plate, the smell hit her even harder, and she bolted for the bathroom. I heard the unmistakable sound of her throwing up on the other side of the door.

When she came back a few minutes later, she was pale and bracing herself against the wall.

“Did I mess it up?” I asked, worried. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“It is,” she said weakly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But now I can’t even stand the smell. The nausea hit hard. I’m sorry, Marcus.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said, picking up the plate and taking a bite of the improvised tapioca with guava.

The taste was…

“My God,” I said, making an involuntary face. “This has absolutely nothing to do with real tapioca, does it?”

Madeline started laughing. First softly, then louder, until we were both laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

“You drove to Florentia in the middle of the night to make the worst tapioca in the world,” she said between laughs.

“And I’d do it again,” I replied honestly, moving the plate away so the smell wouldn’t bother her anymore.

As I watched her laugh, hair messy, still a little pale from morning sickness, something hit me all at once. Never in my life had I imagined myself doing something like this for any woman. Waking up in the middle of the night. Driving for hours. Convincing people to help me. All to satisfy a completely irrational craving of a pregnant

woman.

And the most surprising part was that I would do it all again without a second thought.

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