Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 524

Chapter 524

Gwen’s POV

Everything was dark, warm, and comfortable.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to thin at the edges, like ink dissolving in water. I opened one eye-just one-testing whether the world still existed beyond my eyelids. The light was soft, yellowed, nothing

harsh. Encouraged, I opened the other.

The white ceiling drifted slightly, or maybe I was the one drifting. I couldn’t tell. I blinked a few times, trying to force the world to stay still. To make sense.

That’s when I realized it.

I was moving. No-being moved.

Strong arms were holding me-one beneath my knees, the other supporting my back. Very strong arms. Without thinking, my gaze slid downward to those exposed forearms where the sleeves of a flannel shirt had been rolled up to the elbows. The skin was lightly tanned, that golden tone that comes from hours in the sun, not artificial tanning beds. Fine, dark hair dusted the surface, and I could see veins standing out subtly beneath the skin-evidence of real strength, of physical work.

My hands-which apparently had been looped around his neck, slid down slightly, as if they had a will of

their own. My fingers brushed his arms and found solid, defined muscle beneath warm skin.

A sigh slipped past my lips before I could stop it. I bit my lower lip as heat rushed to my face, and it had nothing to do with a fever.

Finally, I gathered the courage to look up.

My eyes traveled over a broad chest wrapped in plaid flannel, up the strong line of his jaw shadowed with two or three days’ worth of stubble, and finally met his eyes.

Green.

Green like the Castoria hills in spring. And they were watching me with an amused little smirk tugging at the corner of his ridiculously well-shaped mouth.

He knew. He absolutely knew I’d been mentally rating his arms like I was picking produce at a market.

I snapped my eyes shut again, like a child who believes that if she can’t see, she can’t be seen.

A low, warm laugh rumbled through his chest, and I could feel the vibration where my body rested against his. It was a pleasant sound. Deep. Slightly rough.

“You can open your eyes, miss,” he said in Valentian, the words flowing like honey. “I know you’re awake.”

I felt my body being lowered carefully, set down on something firm but padded. When I finally dared to open my eyes again, I saw that he’d placed me on a medical exam table-one of those with white paper

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stretched over green vinyl.

He stepped back, and for the first time I could see him properly.

Tall-well over six feet. Broad shoulders filling out a red-and-black flannel shirt. Faded jeans that had clearly seen better days, but somehow fit him perfectly over long legs. Work boots. Dark hair slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it more than once. And those green eyes, still gleaming with quiet

amusement.

“Are you alright?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words took their time arriving.

“I’m… I’m…” I lifted a hand instinctively to the back of my neck and winced when my fingers found a tender swelling. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed there, like a second heartbeat at the base of my skull. “I think… I think so. What happened?”

The door to what appeared to be a small medical office creaked open, and a middle-aged man walked in. He wore a white lab coat over a light blue shirt and carried a clipboard. His graying hair was slicked back, and glasses hung from a cord around his neck.

“Nicholas,” the doctor said, turning to the man in flannel. “Is this the young woman you mentioned? The

one who fell down the stairs?”

“I fell?” I repeated, confused. I tried to reach for the memory, to find the moment-but there was only… fog. Like trying to see through a window clouded with steam.

The doctor stepped closer, switching on a small penlight.

“Look up, please,” he instructed. I did. The light cut across my vision and forced me to blink. “Good. Your pupils are reacting normally. That’s a good sign.” He slipped the flashlight back into his pocket and picked up the clipboard. “What’s your name, miss?”

I stared at him for a long moment.

The question was simple. Obvious. Everyone knows their own name, right?

So why was my mind completely blank?

I focused, digging through the mental haze, searching. Then, like someone turning on a dim light in a dark room, it surfaced.

“G… Gwen?” I hesitated, testing the word on my tongue. But yes. That was right. That was me. “Gwen…

Parker.”

The doctor frowned slightly as he made a note on the clipboard.

“She seems a bit disoriented,” Nicholas murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. “She might’ve suffered a mild trauma, or-”

“I’m not confused,” I cut in, my voice firmer than I expected.

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And suddenly, as if a curtain had been yanked open, the information flooded in all at once-almost like a digital profile loading in front of my eyes.

“Gwen Parker. Digital marketing consultant specializing in rural tourism. Lombard School of Economics. Worked on campaigns for small businesses in Castoria and now looking for new clients to build an independent portfolio.”

It felt like I was reading someone else’s biography. And yet somehow, it was mine.

“Excellent, excellent,” the doctor said, clearly relieved. “And how old are you, Gwen?”

I opened my mouth to answer. The information should’ve been right there. Even more basic than everything I’d just said.

But there was only… nothing.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, and my own voice sounded small. Lost.

The doctor exchanged a look with Nicholas-the kind of look medical professionals share when something isn’t right, but they don’t want to scare the patient.

“Gwen,” he said gently, turning back to me. “We need to contact your family. Were you here with someone? Is there anyone we can call?”

“No!” The word came out too fast. Too sharp. Too desperate.

No one could know who my family was.

But why couldn’t anyone know who my family was?

And more importantly…

Who was my family?

I tried to reach for the information, but it was like trying to hold water in my hands. It slipped through my fingers before I could grasp it.

“I don’t… remember,” I corrected, forcing my voice to sound calmer.

The doctor asked more questions. Where did I live? Was I taking any medication? Did I have allergies? Some answers came easily. Others vanished into the fog.

With every question I couldn’t answer, the frustration in my chest grew hotter, tighter.

“Honestly,” I snapped at last, crossing my arms. “I’m fine. Can I leave now?”

The doctor sighed, removing his glasses and polishing the lenses with the hem of his coat.

“Miss Parker, the impact you took may have caused some temporary confusion. It’s completely normal to feel a bit disoriented, to forget certain information. This usually resolves within forty-eight hours-at

most, a week.”

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“So it’s nothing serious?” I asked.

“It doesn’t appear to be,” he said. “You remember your name, your profession, you’re forming coherent sentences…” He paused. “But I can only discharge you if you’re accompanied by a responsible adult. Someone who can keep an eye on you over the next few hours, in case any concerning symptoms

appear.”

I looked around the small office, from the doctor to Nicholas, who stood against the wall with his arms

crossed, silently taking everything in.

And then, from somewhere deep inside me, a certainty surfaced. It didn’t make sense. It had no logic.

But it was there-solid as stone.

“Well,” I said, jerking my chin toward Nicholas. “He’s my fiancé. He’s responsible for me.”

The silence that followed was so thick I could’ve cut it with a knife.

The doctor blinked.

“Nick?” he turned to the man in flannel, his eyebrows lifting so high they nearly disappeared into his gray hair. “This woman is your fiancée? I had no idea that you-” He shook his head. “Well. Either way, I can only release her under the supervision of a family member or… well, a fiancé counts.” He looked between us. “You’re engaged?”

Nicholas stared at me. His green eyes studied my face for a long moment, searching for something I wasn’t even sure existed. His jaw tightened slightly, tension flickering around his mouth.

Then he looked back at the doctor and said, in a completely neutral voice, “Yes. Miss Parker is my

fiancée.”

D

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