Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 420

Chapter 420

Madeline’s POV

“I need fresh ingredients if I’m going to cook for Annie and Nate,” I told Marcus as I finished my breakfast. “I want to do everything myself. Not order delivery, not leave it to the cook.”

Marcus smiled, folding the Valentian newspaper he’d been reading.

“Do you want to go to Central Mercato? It’s the best place to find quality ingredients, and it’s close to the historic center. We can take a walk around the city too.”

The idea immediately lifted my mood. We’d been wanting to do something like this for weeks, but there was always some concern or tension holding us back. Now, after the magical moment last night when we felt the baby move for the first time, there was a new lightness between us.

“Perfect,” I said, already standing to grab my bag. “I can’t wait to talk to Annie about the pregnancy. She’s already at thirty-five weeks! She must have so many stories.”

We left the apartment and walked through the cobblestone streets of Florentia. It was a cold winter morning, but the sky was clear, and the pale sun cast a golden glow over the stones still wet from the night’s rain. I was wrapped in a thick coat and still felt the chill on my cheeks. The smell of fresh bread from nearby bakeries mixed with that unmistakable Valentian winter scent. Marcus knew every corner, every shortcut, guiding me with the easy confidence of someone who had grown up exploring these streets in every season.

“That’s where I used to buy gelato when I was a kid,” he said, pointing to an old gelateria with a faded green façade. “Mrs. Bennett always gave me an extra scoop when my mother wasn’t looking.”

I watched his profile as he spoke, noticing how his eyes lit up while sharing those memories. There was something deeply attractive about the way he moved through familiar streets, a natural confidence that made me feel safe beside him.

When we reached the market, I was dazzled by the explosion of colors and scents. Stalls overflowing with winter produce. There were golden root vegetables, aromatic mushrooms, and aged cheeses arranged like works of art. Marcus negotiated with the vendors in fluent Valentian, his hands moving expressively as he picked out the best ingredients.

There was something hypnotic about the way he moved. Even wrapped in the dark wool coat he wore against the January cold, when he leaned over a stall to inspect the porcini mushrooms, I could easily picture the strong lines of his back beneath the fabric. When he lifted a heavy crate, rolling up his sleeves for a moment, I noticed the strength in his forearms and caught myself imagining those hands holding my body with that same firmness.

I tried to focus on shopping, but my attention kept drifting to dangerous thoughts. The way he ran a hand through his hair when he was concentrating made me imagine my own fingers doing the same. How his jaw tightened slightly when he tasted a piece of cheese, and my mind went straight to kissing that sharp, masculine line. The genuine smile he gave the vendors reminded me of how he smiled during our most intimate moments.

“What kind of pasta do you want to make?” he asked, stepping closer with a bag of semolina flour.

His closeness made my heart race far more than the situation warranted. When he opened his coat to pull out his wallet, I caught a brief glimpse of the fitted shirt underneath, and my mind immediately wandered to my hands

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exploring his chest.

“Anything is fine,” I replied, hoping my voice sounded normal.

We kept moving through the market aisles, and I caught myself noticing things about him that suddenly felt charged with a completely new, unmistakably sexual energy. The way he placed a protective hand on my back when we pushed through the crowds made me imagine that same protection in far more intimate settings. The

way

his long, elegant fingers handled the produce so carefully had me fantasizing about those same fingers exploring my body with that same patience and precision. The low, genuine laugh he gave when an older vendor cracked a joke in Valentian reminded me of sounds I wanted to hear from him in much more private moments.

God. What was happening to me?

We left the market loaded down with bags and walked toward Rosegate Bridge. Marcus suggested we stop at a café near the Liora River to rest before heading home. We sat at an outdoor table overlooking the river, and he ordered an espresso for himself and a decaf cappuccino for me.

“Are you liking Florentia?” he asked, leaning slightly forward in his chair.

The movement pulled his shirt taut across his chest, and I caught myself tracking the line of his shoulders, the way the sunlight highlighted the angles of his face. There was a natural masculinity about him that suddenly felt amplified, as if my senses were tuned to a completely different frequency.

” TH

“I love it,” I said, forcing myself to keep eye contact instead of letting my gaze wander. “It’s unlike anywhere I’ve ever lived.”

“Very different from Belmonte,” he agreed, his blue eyes bright with amusement. “Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re here together.”

The way he said together made something tighten in my chest. There was an intimacy in that single word that sent my thoughts spiraling toward all the ways we still hadn’t fully explored what that union meant since we got

married.

Back at the apartment, as we put the groceries away in the kitchen, I realized I could barely focus on what I was doing. Every movement he made felt loaded with an energy I was absorbing in a way that felt entirely new. When he bent down to put a bottle of olive oil in the lower cabinet. When he stretched to reach a high shelf. When he simply stood there organizing tomatoes on the counter.

When he finally turned and caught me watching him, the realization hit me all at once.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him like that.

My body was reacting to every small gesture, every casual moment of closeness, as if I were seeing him as a man

for the first time.

Pregnancy hormones were turning me completely feral, and Marcus Kensington was the unwilling center of all that intensity I hadn’t even known I was capable of.

Shit.

I wanted that man. Badly.

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DUTIES