Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 535

Arincisindenly, a violent blast of icemold waterterthit meistraight in the facece.

I stcscreanted. Asharp started screanarfreezingavate scaled my hair my blouse severelyttingh@he handiidid showeri’d accidentally activatededasasconded directly at me and the pressurewas str enenato tratockmefoff balancece.

Itrictecotstspeparack, but my foot stippedachtheheavétotoor.

didn’t they?

Maybe I’d find photos. Maybe I’d find information about my daughter. About where I worked. About my life before this black hole that now existed where my memory should be.

But for now… for now I needed to do exactly what Nick had suggested. Take a hot shower. Sleep. And hope things would sort themselves out.

I pulled a clean nightgown from my suitcase and headed into the bathroom.

It was small. Old. Rustic in a way that was probably considered charming, but to me it just felt… tight. The walls were white tile with faded blue details. The ceramic floor had cracks that spoke of decades of use. And there was a narrow little window that looked out over the back courtyard.

In one corner there was a simple white porcelain bathtub with one of those old-fashioned shower setups. The kind where the showerhead is inside the tub, hanging from a metal rod, and you have to stand in the tub to shower. There was also a handheld sprayer attached to the wall, the kind with a hose you can pull off and aim anywhere.

The faucets were confusing. They weren’t the modern, intuitive kind I apparently was used to. There were two separate knobs. One marked with a C for Calda (hot) and the other with an F for Fredda (cold). And then a few other controls I had absolutely no idea how to use.

For a moment, I had a flash.

A sleek bathroom. Marble everywhere. A huge, modern bathtub that could almost pass for a small pool. Recessed lighting. Massive mirrors. Luxury in every detail.

Was that… my home?

My apparently expensive clothes matched that image. So did the fact that I clearly had no idea how to wash dishes. But my profession, a freelance consultant struggling to build a portfolio, didn’t fit at all.

Another inconsistency to add to the growing pile.

I shoved the thought away. Not now. Not when my head already hurt and my entire body was begging for

rest.

I turned back to the faucets, studying them for a moment before deciding that filling the tub would be more relaxing than standing under the shower. I reached for what I thought was the tub control.

I turned it.

And suddenly, a violent blast of ice-cold water hit me straight in the face.

I screamed. A sharp, startled scream. Freezing water soaked my hair, my blouse, everything. The handheld shower I’d accidentally activated was pointed directly at me, and the pressure was strong enough to knock me off balance.

I tried to step back, but my foot slipped on the wet floor.

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For one second, I was suspended in the air, arms flailing uselessly.

Then I fell.

I landed hard on my butt with a dull, painful thud that shot up my spine. The water kept spraying from the showerhead, now hitting the wall and splashing everywhere.

I sat there on the cold, wet bathroom floor, completely soaked. My hair dripped into my eyes. My silk

blouse clung to my body like a second skin.

And then I started laughing.

Not a polite,little laugh. A full-blown, hysterical fit of laughter. Uncontrollable. It bubbled up from deep in my chest and burst out of me. I laughed until it hurt, until tears streamed down my face, mixing with the

water from the shower.

It was all so absurd.

Waking up with no memory. Not knowing basic things about myself. Not even being able to take a shower without causing a disaster.

“Definitely my lucky day,” I muttered to the empty bathroom, my voice dripping with irony.

And I kept laughing, sitting there on the wet floor, while the cold water continued to rain down around me.

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