Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 566

Chapter 566

Gwen’s POV

The meeting had already been going on for an hour and a half, and I had barely registered half of what was being discussed.

Numbers flashed on the projection screen in front of me. Sales charts. Forecasts. Market analyses that would normally have me completely absorbed, asking questions, suggesting adjustments, optimizing strategies.

But today, my mind was miles away.

Or more specifically, about seventy-five miles away, in the Castorian hills, at a small inn surrounded by vineyards and a fireplace that crackled softly at night.

My phone vibrated discreetly in my lap under the table. I glanced down quickly, hoping no one noticed.

It was a photo.

Bella, wearing a ridiculously oversized hat that was clearly Nick’s, covering half her face. She was smiling in that way only kids can. The caption read: She insisted the hat made her look older. I agreed because I’m a good dad.

I couldn’t help it.

I laughed. A soft but genuine sound that slipped out before I could stop myself.

That was when I realized Mia was watching me from across the table, one eyebrow raised in clear suspicion. Beside her, the sales manager kept presenting data about market penetration in mid-range

restaurants, completely oblivious to my slip.

I quickly put my phone away, straightened my posture, and switched back into business mode.

Paying attention.

Or at least pretending very convincingly that I was.

When the meeting finally ended, forty-five torturous minutes later, Mia caught me in the hallway before I could escape to my office.

“Lunch,” she announced. Not as a question. As a command. “Now.”

“I have a lot of work-” I started to protest.

“Which you clearly can’t focus on, since you spent the last hour and a half smiling at your phone like a lovesick teenager,” Mia shot back, already grabbing my arm. “Let’s go.”

We ended up at our favorite trattoria two blocks from the office. A small, familiar place with the best carbonara in Florentia and owners who knew us well enough not to bother us when we wanted privacy.

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We had barely sat down and ordered when Mia attacked.

“So,” she said, grabbing a piece of bread and generously drenching it in olive oil, “how are things?”

“Things?” I played innocent, knowing exactly what she meant.

“Gwen, please.” Mia rolled her eyes. “It’s been what? A month?”

“About that,” I replied casually, taking a sip of my sparkling water. “Not like I’ve been counting.”

I had.

Every single day.

Thirty-two days since I’d left Valemont Estate. Thirty-two days since that night in the living room had turned into something much more in his bed. Thirty-two days since I’d woken up in his arms and had forced myself to get up, get dressed, go down for breakfast, and pretend everything was normal before getting into the car with Mia and Dante and coming back.

“And how are things with Nick?” Mia asked, going straight to the point like she always did.

“Normal,” I said, grabbing my own piece of bread just to give my hands something to do. “They’re… normal. We’re friends. He sends me pictures of Bella sometimes. Some funny memes. Says he thought of me when he saw something that would make me laugh. But… that’s it.”

“Gwen,” Mia said, fixing me with the look she used when she thought I was being especially dense, “there is no such thing as friendship after wild sex.”

My face heated instantly.

“It wasn’t… that wild,” I muttered.

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Mia raised an eyebrow. “Because you got back in the car the next morning looking like someone who had been completely-”

“That sounds interesting.”

We both turned at the same time to find Dante standing beside our table, wearing his trademark smug smile.

“No one invited you,” Mia said.

“And yet, here I am,” Dante replied cheerfully, pulling out a chair and sitting down anyway. “So, were you explaining to Gwen about the myth of post-sex friendship?”

“Exactly,” Mia confirmed.

“I completely agree,” Dante said, attacking his plate of lasagna. “Actually, I’ll go further. There’s never friendship between straight men and women. It’s always either before sex or after sex. There’s no in- between.”

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Mia wrinkled her nose in disapproval.

“That’s sexist and outdated.”

Dante shrugged, completely unfazed.

“Proof is, I don’t have female friends. Zero. Every single one eventually either was something more or will

1. It’s just a matter of time and opportunity.”

“That just proves you’re a jerk,” I shot back.

Dante laughed, clearly not offended in the slightest.

“You mean… a charming jerk?” he corrected, winking.

“No,” I said firmly. “Definitely just a jerk.”

But he was already shaking his head and circling back to the main topic.

“Listen, I’m going to give you advice from someone who understands women… and men who are into women,” Dante said, his voice turning surprisingly serious for a moment. “The guy likes you. It’s obvious. But he’s not leaving his mountains. He’s basically a… hermit. Completely rooted in that place.”

He paused to take a sip of wine.

“So the solution is simple. Rent a room there. Go see the kid. You miss her, don’t you? I know you do. Eventually, the two of you will end up having a real conversation about what you want… or having sex. Probably both.”

Mia nearly choked on her juice trying not to laugh.

“Surprisingly,” she said, staring at Dante in genuine shock, “his advice is actually good.”

I sat there, pushing my pasta around with my fork without really eating, thinking it over.

“I do owe Bella a visit,” I admitted finally. “I promised I’d come back. But it’s not that simple. I don’t think I have room for a relationship right now. I have too much work. Too much responsibility. Kensington Valentia doesn’t run itself. And long-distance relationships are complicated. They take time and energy

I’m not sure I have.”

“You never think you have room,” Mia pointed out gently but firmly. “There’s always an excuse. Always something more important. More urgent. More necessary. But deep down, you know it’s just fear.”

Before I could answer, Dante jumped in again.

“And who said anything about a relationship?” he asked, waving his fork dramatically. “Weren’t we talking about sex? Like, literally three minutes ago?”

I couldn’t help laughing. A real laugh that eased some of the tightness in my chest.

“Neither relationships nor casual sex nor anything,” I said. “Can we just finish lunch now? I have a lot of

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work this afternoon and an important meeting at three with Sapori d’Italia.”

“Yes, boss,” Dante said with a crooked grin, giving me a fake military salute.

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled too.

We finished lunch talking about safer topics. Anything that didn’t involve my love life or impossible men who lived in distant mountains.

But as we walked back to the office, one thought kept circling in my mind.

Should I take their advice?

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