Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 572

Chapter 572

Gwen’s POV

The salon was calm for a Saturday morning. Nothing like those crowded, noisy places packed with people waiting their turn. This was the kind of establishment that required appointments booked weeks in advance, though not for a Kensington, of course.

I was reclined in a plush chair, a heated cap over my hair while a treatment mask worked its restorative magic after the disaster of the night before. Mia was in the chair beside me, also waiting on her own treatment, scrolling through her feed with the kind of intense focus that meant gossip or serious stalking.

The background music was soft, almost unnoticeable. Just the two of us and two other clients in the entire salon, each in a private station separated by elegant frosted-glass dividers.

“So you gave up on going?” Mia asked suddenly, without looking up from her phone, as if we were mid- conversation when in reality we’d been silent for several minutes.

“Of course I gave up,” I replied, adjusting the soft towel around my shoulders. “I was wrecked, Mia. Covered in mud from head to toe. Soaked. Freezing. I was not exactly in a state to show up at someone’s door at three in the morning.”

Mia finally looked up from her phone, studying me with an expression that was half amusement, half

genuine concern.

“Dante is still complaining about how you completely trashed his car,” she said with a small smile.

“He’ll survive,” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway,” I continued, closing my eyes and trying to relax as the heat sank into my scalp, “I don’t even know where I got the insane idea to drive to Montelira in the middle of the night. Alone. Without telling anyone.”

I shook my head slightly, careful not to shift the cap.

“Was getting stuck in the snow a few weeks ago not enough?” Mia asked with a laugh. “Apparently you and Castoria’s weather have a complicated relationship. This whole adventurous streak doesn’t suit you.

It never has.”

“In my defense,” I said, “it wasn’t raining when I decided to leave the house.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t make your decision any less impulsive or irrational.”

I went quiet for a moment, listening to the gentle music and the distant murmur of the other clients’

conversations.

“I know,” I admitted at last, my voice lower. “But that call really got to me.”

“What call?” Mia asked, frowning.

“Exactly!” I exclaimed, opening my eyes and turning to look at her. “The lack of a call.”

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I corrected myself, trying to better explain what I was feeling.

“It’s like… after everything we went through together, we have nothing to say to each other. Nothing beyond trading a few random memes once in a while. I mean, literally our communication over the past thirty days has been him sending photos of Bella and me replying with heart emojis.”

Mia studied me for a long moment, her expression softening into something that almost looked like pity.

“But you have to admit, Gwen,” she said gently, “you really don’t have anything in common.”

Something tightened painfully in my chest. An almost desperate need rose up to contradict her, to prove her wrong.

“We do have things in common,” I shot back, maybe more to myself than to Mia. “Wine, at the very least. We’re both passionate about it. We appreciate the artistry behind it.”

Mia raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Sure,” she said, her tone calm but blunt. “Because he knows you’re a Kensington, right? He knows you work in the industry professionally. He knows you probably forget more about wine in a day than he learns in a year.”

She paused, letting that hang between us.

“Oh, wait,” she added with gentle sarcasm. “He doesn’t know any of that. To him, you’re just a tourist who happens to like wine. And let’s be honest, Gwen, he’s a backyard winemaker who uses the property more for tourism than for serious production.”

I could see where this was going, and I didn’t like it.

“Mia…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, lifting her hands in a placating gesture, “but you know Christian was right. from the start. That property would be far better used in the Kensingtons’ hands. We have the resources, the expertise, the connections to actually turn that place into something big.”

“That’s not fair,” I said immediately, feeling the urge to defend Nick even though he would never hear this conversation. “It’s not like Nick wants something big. He likes the simplicity of what he has. He likes knowing every guest by name, making wine the way his father taught him, raising Bella in a quiet place, far from the chaos of the city.”

“And what do you like?” Mia asked, her voice still gentle but relentless. “Designer clothes you don’t think twice about buying. Dinners at Michelin-star restaurants. International business trips in first class. Spas like this one we’re in right now that charge three hundred dollars for a conditioning treatment.”

I couldn’t argue with her. Everything she said was true. It was my life. It was who I was.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt, “don’t they say opposites attract? That differences can be complementary instead of divisive?”

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Mia laughed. It wasn’t cruel or mocking. It was genuine, almost affectionate.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice softening. “Maybe. Maybe opposites really do attract and can make it work.”

She paused, looking me straight in the eye.

“But in relationships like that, one of the two always ends up giving more. Making more sacrifices. Changing more of who they fundamentally are.

“Is it going to be you?”

日

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