Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 534

Chapter 534

Gwen’s POV

Nick went still for a moment, the plate frozen in his hands while the water kept running in the sink. When he finally spoke, his voice came out dry. Almost sharp.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I blinked, startled by the edge in his tone.

“But… we need to talk,” I insisted gently. “We’re engaged. It’s natural to know about each other’s past, isn’t

it?”

He set the plate down harder than necessary, the loud clatter echoing through the kitchen.

“We’ve never talked about exes?” I asked, trying to understand.

Nick turned toward me, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. There was something defensive in his posture now.

“Tell me,” he shot back. “Anything you want to say about your exes?”

The question caught me off guard. I reached for my memory, searching for faces, names, moments. Past boyfriends. Old relationships. Anything at all.

“I don’t think I have any significant exes,” I said slowly. “Because I can’t remember anyone.”

“You have a daughter,” he said, and there was something sharp in his tone. “How could her father not

even be… significant?”

The question hit me like a punch to the gut.

I searched my memory again, this time desperately. There had to be something there. Something. My daughter’s father. The man I’d built a life and child with.

And then it came. That same fragmented memory. A pregnancy test in my hand. Two bright pink lines. Me, younger, laughing, showing it to a man beside me.

But when I tried to focus on his face, it was just a blur. Like someone had deliberately erased that part of

the image.

I tried to go deeper. His name. How we met. Where we lived. The pregnancy. The birth. My daughter being born. Her first smile. Her first words.

Absolutely nothing.

The pain cut through my chest like a sharp blade.

“Well,” I said, and my voice came out bitter, aching in a way I barely recognized. “Apparently I can’t even remember my own daughter.”

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omething

Concern. Maybe compassion.

Then, suddenly, he moved. He crossed the distance in two quick steps and pulled me into his arms.

I froze for a second, surprised, before sinking into his chest. It was solid. Warm. Safe. He smelled like firewood and something masculine that made my stomach twist.

“It’s just a temporary memory lapse,” he said softly, his voice vibrating through his chest where my ear was pressed. “You’ll remember everything soon.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to believe him.

“It’s like being trapped inside myself,” I said, the words spilling out in a rush I couldn’t stop. “Like there’s a glass wall between me and my own memories. I can see shapes on the other side. Blurred outlines. But when I try to reach them, touch them, grab onto them… there’s nothing. Just emptiness. It’s suffocating. Agonizing. Like I’m drowning while everyone keeps telling me I’m breathing just fine.”

Nick’s arms tightened around me, and I felt one of his hands slide up to stroke my hair in slow, steady motions. Comforting. Grounding.

“It’ll pass,” he murmured. “I promise it will.”

I stayed there for another moment, soaking in the comfort he offered, before pulling back slightly. I forced a smile, even though it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. “I’ll recover.”

But even as I said the words out loud, my mind whispered cruel doubts.

What if it wasn’t temporary? What if it never passed? What if I stayed like this forever, trapped in this limbo of non-memories, always searching for pieces of myself I’d never be able to find?

I’d have to go after my life. Rediscover everything. Meet my daughter all over again. Go back to… to where? Go back home.

But where was home? I didn’t even know where I lived.

“Where do I live?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Nick didn’t hesitate.

“Florentia.”

Florentia. Of course.

I smiled and nodded, as if that made perfect sense. Florentia. Beautiful, historic, full of art and culture. Of course I lived there.

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“What else can you tell me about myself?” I asked, looking at him with hope. “About us? I mean… I need to put the pieces of this puzzle together.”

I watched his smile fade.

“You do,” he agreed softly. “But not tonight.”

“But-”

“It’s late,” he went on, his voice gentle but firm. “Why don’t you take a nice hot shower and get some sleep? Tomorrow maybe your memory will be back. Or at least…. you’ll feel better.”

Part of me wanted to push. To demand answers right now. Every detail he could give me about who I was, about who we were together.

But another part of me, the tired part, the overwhelmed part, just wanted to sleep. I wanted to close my eyes and wake up tomorrow as myself again. Whole. Complete. With all my memories right where they belonged.

I smiled. A small smile, but a real one this time.

“You’re right. Tomorrow will be better.”

I turned to leave, my steps carrying me toward the kitchen door. But I stopped in the doorway and turned

back to look at him.

He was still there, leaning against the counter, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Anyway,” I said, my voice softer now, more vulnerable, “I’m glad you were with me when all this happened.”

Nick didn’t answer. He just kept looking at me.

“I mean…” I went on, “I might not remember or be sure about a lot of things. But I’m sure about us. There’s no chance you wouldn’t be the kind of man I’d choose to have by my side for the rest of my life.”

He went completely still, just staring at me with those green eyes, now heavy with too many emotions to

name.

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. I rose onto my toes and pressed my lips to his in a quick, gentle kiss.

“Good night, love,” I whispered against his mouth.

Then I pulled away and left the kitchen, crossing the hallway and heading upstairs to my room.

3/4

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