Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 552

Chapter 552

Mia’s POV

“You have to be out of your mind.”

I paused, staring at the computer screen where Christian’s face filled the frame, wearing that serious, unreadable expression he always used when he wanted something.

“Although, now that I think about it, you’ve never exactly been all there.”

I was sitting at my desk in my apartment in Florentia, still in my pajamas because it was Sunday morning and I had every intention of spending the entire day doing absolutely nothing productive. Clearly, those plans were going straight down the drain.

“Mia, I’m serious,” Christian said from the other side of the video call, his voice carrying that controlled tone he used when he was worried but trying not to show it. “I’ve been trying to reach Gwen since last night.”

“And?” I asked, picking up my cappuccino and taking a sip. “She’s probably busy. You know how she gets when she’s focused on something.”

“She’s not answering her phone,” Christian went on, ignoring my attempt to downplay it. “And the inn where she’s staying… the call won’t even go through. It drops immediately.”

“Welcome to rural Valentia,” I said with a dry smile. “Cell service out there is more of a suggestion than an actual thing.”

“I saw online that Montelira is completely without power,” he said, and now I could see real concern in his eyes. “That’s probably why I can’t get in touch.”

“Obviously,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Christian, we’re in the middle of one of the harshest winters Valentia has seen in decades. It’s snowing even in Florentia, and it almost never snows here. Imagine Montelira, up in the hills. Everything is probably buried under snow. The roads must be a nightmare.”

I set my cup back on the desk and leaned closer to the camera.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m leaving the house right now. I had my lips filled three days ago. My aesthetician was very clear. No extreme cold for at least a week. Do you have any idea how much that procedure cost? And how much it’ll cost me if I ruin everything by driving into a snowstorm?”

Christian didn’t look even remotely impressed by my argument.

“Mia, it’s not just that the call won’t go through,” he said, his voice turning more serious. “When I did manage to reach the inn, before the line dropped, someone answered. A man. He said something had happened to Gwen and that they were trying to contact a family member.”

That made me pause. My hand froze halfway back to my coffee cup.

“Something like what?”

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“The call dropped before he could explain,” Christian said, frustration clear on his face. “That’s why I need you to go there. I need to know she’s okay.”

I leaned back in my chair, processing that for a moment. Then I shrugged.

“You know Gwen,” I said, lifting my coffee again. “She probably twisted her ankle going down the stairs. And she didn’t want to give any family contacts because, well, you told her not to mention the Kensington name, didn’t you?”

I took another sip before continuing.

“She’s not, like, on some secret mission to push those people out and acquire the land for Kensington, is

she?”

“That’s not exactly-” Christian started, but I didn’t let him finish. “You know we don’t do hostile takeovers

and-”

“Of course it is,” I cut in, gesturing with my free hand. “They’re small fish in a sea of sharks, and you want that land. Their property, the winery, all of it. Gwen will get it for you. And you want to blow her cover by sending me after her?”

Christian’s expression hardened. It was the kind of look that made people in boardrooms sweat and second-guess every decision they’d ever made.

“Mia,” he said, his voice like steel now, “I could not care less about business if there’s even a chance that something happened to my sister. You’re going to Montelira right now and you’re going to make sure she’s okay. This is not a suggestion.”

I let out a long sigh, realizing I’d pushed him too far. And no one liked pushing Christian. Not because he was cruel or mean. Quite the opposite. He was a good cousin, a good CEO, treated his family and employees well. But when he wanted something, he was relentless. He had a way of getting exactly what he wanted, no matter how many obstacles stood in the way.

If he wanted this favor from me, if he was using that tone, then there was no way out.

I lowered my voice, trying to sound more reasonable.

“You don’t understand,” I said patiently. “There’s a snowstorm around Montelira. There’s no way I could get there by car. The roads have to be completely impassable. To begin with, I’m not exactly a great driver under normal conditions. Now add snow and ice to that?”

“I know,” Christian said, and something that almost looked like a smile touched his lips. “And that’s exactly why I sent… a driver… to go with you.”

I blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A driver,” he repeated calmly. “Someone who knows how to drive in dangerous conditions. Someone I

trust.”

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“Why does the driver need company?” I asked, confused. “Can’t he go by himself to check if Gwen is okay?”

“Of course not,” Christian replied, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “I trust each of you for a different purpose. Yours is to make sure nothing gets out of hand and to personally confirm that

Gwen is fine.”

He paused before continuing.

“And his purpose is to make sure you both get there. Safely.”

I stared at Christian on the screen, at that determined expression that left zero room for argument. I knew when I was beaten. I knew when it was better to just accept defeat.

Finally, I gave in. I let out a heavy sigh and dramatically dropped my head back.

“Fine,” I said, looking back at the camera. “I’ll get my things. But you’re going to owe me. Big time.”

“Great,” Christian said, and now he actually smiled. A small smile, but it was definitely there. “Because he should be arriving in about…”

The doorbell rang.

I looked at the door, then back at the screen.

Christian was wearing that smug expression now.

“Now,” he finished.

Then he hung up. The screen went black, leaving only my own reflection staring back at me with an expression of pure disbelief.

“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, pushing my chair back.

The doorbell rang again.

I walked toward the apartment door, still in my pajamas, my freshly conditioned hair twisted into a messy bun on top of my head. I hadn’t even bothered putting on a bra because, again, it was Sunday morning and I had planned on doing absolutely nothing.

Plans Christian had just completely destroyed.

I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to meet the mysterious driver Christian had sent. Probably some serious, professional Kensington employee. Someone in a suit with a permanent scowl. Someone who would silently judge me for answering the door in pajamas.

I opened the door.

And froze.

Because standing on the other side, casually leaning against the doorframe with that infuriatingly smug

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smile I knew all too well, was the very last person on earth I wanted to see at that moment.

I slammed the door shut.

Then I shouted into the void, into the universe, into anyone who might be listening, “I am going to kill you, Christian Kensington!”

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