Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 533

Chapter 533

Gwen’s POV

I went down the stairs carefully, one hand on the railing, the other lightly touching the bead necklace Bella had given me. It was comforting, in a strange way, that light, colorful weight against my skin.

The guest dining area was on the ground floor. A wide room with rustic wooden tables and high-backed chairs. The smell coming from inside was incredible. Something roasted, mixed with fresh herbs and warm bread. Several guests were already seated, chatting animatedly as generous plates were served. Classic inn food. Hearty, fragrant, homemade. The kind of food that warms you from the inside out.

I was about to look for a place to sit when I heard my name.

“Gwen!”

I turned and saw Paula waving from the doorway that led to the kitchen. She was wearing an apron over her clothes, her hair pulled into an even tighter ponytail than before.

“Come have dinner with us,” she called, jerking her head toward the back. “In the kitchen.”

I hesitated for only a second before following her. I crossed the guest dining room and stepped through a wooden door toward the back.

The kitchen was enormous. Copper pots hanging from the walls. A central island of worn but well-cared- for marble. A stone fireplace where logs crackled softly. And the table. A long, solid wooden table that looked like it had centuries of history carved into it. It was set for five people.

When I walked in, every pair of eyes turned to me.

Nick saw me first, and his gaze immediately dropped to my neck. To the colorful bead necklace. Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Tenderness. But he didn’t say anything. He just held my gaze a second too long before looking away.

“Martina, this is Gwen. Gwen, this is Martina, your…” Paula tilted her head. “Mother-in-law? Yeah, I’d say mother-in-law.”

There was something in the way Paula said it. A subtle irony. A quiet amusement. But I couldn’t quite place it. It sounded perfectly normal to me.

Martina dried her hands on a dish towel and stepped closer. She was of average height, with gray hair pulled into a loose bun and warm brown eyes that were kind but observant. She wore a simple dress covered by a floral apron.

“Gwen,” she said, her voice soft and maternal. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

She hugged me. A real hug. Not the quick, polite kind between near-strangers. I hugged her back, breathing in the scent of rosemary and lavender that clung to her.

“I have too,” I replied, realizing it was true.

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“Come, sit,” Martina said, gesturing to the table. “You must be starving after everything that happened today.”

I took a seat, and Bella immediately dragged her chair over to sit beside me. Nick took the seat across from me, while Paula and Martina filled the others.

The food was served. Thick slices of roasted meat with potatoes. Herb-roasted vegetables. Bread still warm, butter melting into it. And red wine poured into thick glass goblets.

The conversation flowed easily. Martina asked if I was feeling better, if my head still hurt, if I needed anything else in my room. Paula commented on the afternoon tour, joking about how I’d impressed everyone with my wine knowledge.

“She’s a bit confused because of the fall,” Nick explained at one point, when Martina asked something about my family. “The doctor said it’s normal. It should pass in a few days.”

Martina nodded understandingly, but there was something in her eyes. Concern, maybe. Or curiosity.

At one point, I noticed Bella struggling to cut a particularly stubborn piece of meat. Without thinking, I took her knife and fork and cut it into smaller, easier bites.

“Thank you,” Bella said with a wide smile. “I like having a new mommy.”

The silence that followed was instant. Heavy.

Bella kept going, completely unaware of the discomfort she’d caused.

“I asked for a new mommy a long time ago. Since the other one left.”

My heart clenched. Bella’s mother had died. Of course. Nick was a widower… wasn’t he?

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, touching Bella’s arm.

“It’s okay,” she replied with the brutal honesty of children. “Mommy said she’s happier away from me, right, Daddy?”

The discomfort shifted into something deeper. Something painful.

I looked at Nick and saw the way his jaw tightened. The way his fingers clenched around his fork a little

too hard.

“It’s not like that, sweetheart,” he said, and I could hear the effort it took to keep his voice gentle. “We’ve talked about this before, remember?”

He stood, walked around the table, and crouched beside Bella, stroking her hair with quiet affection.

“Your mom… she just needed a different path. It has nothing to do with you, little one. You’re perfect.”

Bella nodded, but she didn’t look completely convinced.

Martina broke the heavy silence with a bright, decisive voice.

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“Who wants a jam tart?” she announced. “I made Bella’s favorite today.”

“ME!” Bella shot her hand up, instantly distracted.

The rest of dinner passed in a lighter mood. Martina served generous portions of dessert, and the conversation drifted to safer topics. Plans for the property. Interesting guests who had stayed recently. How brutal the winter had been this year.

When we finished eating, Martina stood and held out her hand to Bella.

“Bedtime, little one. Let’s brush your teeth and get you into pajamas.”

“But I’m not,sleepy!” Bella protested, even though her eyes were already drooping.

“I know, I know,” Martina said with infinite patience. “But it’s late, and you need your rest.”

Bella made her rounds, handing out kisses and hugs. When she reached me, she leaned in and whispered in my ear.

“I like you. Stay here forever, okay?”

My heart clenched again.

“I’ll try,” I whispered back.

Martina and Bella left the kitchen, their voices echoing down the hallway until they faded upstairs.

Paula stood as well, pulling off her apron.

“I’m going to help out in the dining room,” she announced. “Some guests probably want more wine or dessert.” She looked at Nick, then at me, and that amused little smile returned. “You two can do the

dishes.”

Before either of us could respond, she was gone.

And then it was just the two of us, alone in the quiet kitchen.

Nick started gathering plates, stacking them carefully, and I stood to help. We carried everything to the large ceramic sink, and Nick turned on the tap, letting the water warm up.

“I’ll wash, you dry?” he suggested, grabbing a sponge.

“Sure,” I said, taking a clean dish towel.

But when he handed me the first washed plate, I almost dropped it. I caught it at the last second, but it was obvious I didn’t have much practice.

On the third plate, I wasn’t so lucky. It slipped completely from my hands and shattered on the floor.

“Shit,” I muttered, crouching down immediately to pick up the pieces.

“Careful,” Nick said, crouching too and grabbing my wrist before I could cut myself. “Let me get that.”

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He carefully collected the shards, then grabbed a broom to sweep up the smaller pieces.

“Not very used to washing dishes, huh?” he said, his tone gentle and amused, not judgmental.

I blushed slightly.

We went back to the sink. This time I was more careful, holding each plate with both hands before drying

“Bella does better at this than you do,” he teased.

He laughed, and I laughed too.

“Bella is very loving,” I said, placing a plate on the stack. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Nick smiled, but it was a tired smile.

“I’m the lucky one,” he said. “She keeps me… grounded, you know? When things get hard.”

“Hard how?” I asked.

He shrugged, passing me another plate.

“Running all of this alone. The inn. The winery. Being a dad. It’s not easy.”

“Alone,” I repeated, taking the plate. “How long has it been like that?”

Nick hesitated, his hands stilling under the water for a moment.

“We’ve never really talked about this, have we?” I said quietly. “What happened to her mother?”

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