Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 525

Chapter 525

Nicholas’ POV

I placed my hand at the base of Miss Parker’s waist, feeling the soft fabric of her coat beneath my fingers. The touch was more intimate than I would normally dare with a stranger, but we needed to sell the lie we’d just created.

Gwen stiffened slightly under my hand momentarily before relaxing and allowing herself to be guided

toward the clinic door.

“I’ll take care of her, Dr. Marshall,” I said, keeping my voice steady as I signed the discharge papers he handed me. “I’ll follow all the instructions. If she shows any worrying symptoms, I’ll bring her back immediately.”

“Good, Nick,” the doctor said, handing me a printed sheet with post-head injury instructions and a prescription. “Keep her under observation for the next twenty-four hours. No intense physical activity, avoid screens for long periods, and if she vomits, expériences blurred vision, or becomes excessively drowsy, call me right away.”

I nodded, folded the papers, and slipped them into my back pocket. My hand was still at Gwen’s waist, and I could feel the warmth of her body through the layers of clothing. Something about it felt… wrong. Not morally wrong, but out of place. Like wearing someone else’s clothes.

We walked down the narrow hallway of the small clinic-if it could even be called a clinic. It was more of a private practice Dr. Marshall kept to serve the residents of Montelira and the surrounding rural estates.

The town was far too small for a real hospital; serious cases were sent to Stonebridge.

The cold afternoon air hit us the moment we stepped outside. Gwen shivered beside me and pulled her coat tighter around herself. I guided her toward my truck-a well-worn white Ram ProMaster, its dents telling stories of years spent hauling wine crates, equipment, and the occasional stubborn goat that had escaped from a neighboring pasture.

I opened the passenger door for her, and Gwen looked at the interior with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Hesitation? Disapproval? Confusion?

She climbed in carefully, using the handle above the door to steady herself. I closed the door gently and walked around, snow crunching beneath my boots.

When I slid into the driver’s seat, the space felt smaller. The cab wasn’t large, and Gwen had a presence that filled it. Maybe it was the way she sat-her posture too straight for someone who’d just hit her head. Or maybe it was the subtle perfume clinging to her, something expensive and refined that didn’t match

who she claimed to be.

I started the engine and cranked the heater up to full blast,

“Are you really okay?” I asked, turning to look at her.

Gwen stared at me for a long moment, those blue eyes studying my face with a disconcerting intensity.

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Then she frowned.

“Why do you keep calling me miss?”

I blinked, unsure how to answer.

“We should have more affectionate nicknames,” she went on, as if she were solving a puzzle. “Like… love. Or baby.” She tilted her head. “What do I call you?”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

“Nick is fine, miss.”

She rolled her eyes-a gesture so natural and expressive that for a second she seemed perfectly fine. Then she turned toward the dashboard and started fiddling with the radio, searching for stations with the

determination of someone on a mission.

I pulled the truck into motion, steering back onto the narrow road that led to Valemont Estate. Snow continued to fall lazily, flakes dancing in the dim afternoon light as the sky darkened.

As I drove, my mind wouldn’t slow down.

What the hell did I just do?

I had told Dr. Marshall that woman was my fiancée.

The words sounded strange even inside my own head. I didn’t have a fiancée. I didn’t have a girlfriend. I barely had time for real conversations with adults that weren’t about wine orders or room reservations.

But she had fallen on the steps of my inn. She was a guest-or at least she was about to be. And when I saw her slip, when I heard that awful sound of her head hitting stone, something twisted hard in my chest with guilt.

Those steps were my responsibility. I should’ve thrown down more salt. Put out non-slip mats. Done

something.

So when she said I was her fiancé, I understood what she was doing. She was smart. She knew the doctor wouldn’t release her without a responsible companion, so she invented one on the spot. I

could’ve denied it—but after the accident on my stairs, it felt like the least I could do.

But looking at her now, listening to her murmur to herself as she flipped through stations…

“What kind of music do I even like?” she whispered, her voice thick with genuine confusion.

My stomach dropped.

She was far more disoriented than she’d seemed back at the clinic.

Maybe I’d just stepped into something much bigger than I’d intended, I thought, tightening my grip on the wheel.

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Suddenly, Gwen stopped on a station. A woman’s voice filled the cab, soft and melodic, accompanied by an acoustic guitar.

“What language is this?” she asked, turning to me with wide eyes. “Where is this music from?” She paused, listening closely. “Why do I understand it?”

I glanced at her, then back to the road.

“It’s Maravinese. Verdanian music.”

“Verdanian…” she repeated, like she was testing the word. “Do I speak Maravinese?”

“Apparently,” I said, genuinely curious now. “You understand it. Are you Verdanian?”

Gwen closed her eyes, and I saw tension gather around her mouth. She was concentrating, digging for something buried deep in her memory. When she opened her eyes again, she started reciting, as if reading from an invisible script:

“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 was exactly what she’d said at the clinic, like a recording replaying.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Valentian, then.”

The estate came into view, the lights of the main villa glowing warmly against the gray sky. I parked near

the entrance and this time took extra care helping her out.

“Careful,” I warned, holding her elbow as she stepped onto the snow.

We climbed the stairs together, my steps slow and deliberate.

“We cleared the ice from the steps,” I explained, feeling the need to fill the silence. “And… I’m sorry. I really am. About the accident. I should’ve been more careful with the maintenance.”

Gwen just nodded, but her face still carried that lost, uncertain look. Like she was trying to fit together puzzle pieces that didn’t quite belong.

Inside, the villa was warm and smelled of burning wood from the fireplace. A few heads turned when we walked in, but they quickly went back to their conversations.

“Your luggage has already been taken up to the room you reserved,” I said, guiding her down the narrow hallway toward the guest wing. “I’ll walk you there, just to make sure everything is… suitable.”

We stopped in front of room number five. It was one of our best, with a view of the vineyards and a private bathroom. I opened the door and stepped aside so she could enter first.

Gwen walked in slowly, her eyes sweeping the space with a level of attention that surprised me. She took in the double bed with its white linen coverlet, the old wooden writing desk, the rustic wardrobe, the windows dressed in raw cotton curtains.

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Her gaze was… critical. Analytical. Like she was evaluating every detail, mentally taking notes. But she didn’t say a word.

I stepped farther into the room, suddenly aware of how small it was. With the two of us inside, it felt even

smaller. More intimate.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I meant it to. “If you need anything- extra towels, blankets-”

Gwen turned toward me and smiled.

It wasn’t the confused, distant smile from before. It was warm. Genuine. One that reached her blue eyes

and made them shine.

Then she stepped closer.

My heart kicked harder as she closed the distance between us with confident steps. Before I could even process what was happening, her arms slid around my neck.

“Thank you for taking care of me, love,” she said, her voice soft and intimate.

And then she kissed me.

Reality hit me like a bucket of ice water.

She hadn’t been lying to get out of the clinic. She genuinely believed I was her fiancé.

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