Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 573

Chapter 573

Gwen’s POV

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

I stood at the entrance of Bellavita, Florentia’s most exclusive club, staring at the massive line of people waiting to get in. Music pulsed from inside the building, bass so deep I could feel it vibrating in my chest even from the sidewalk.

Mia grabbed my hand, her high heels clicking confidently against the pavement as she led us straight past the line, ignoring the irritated and envious looks from people who had probably been waiting there for hours.

“Come on,” she said, dragging me toward the VIP entrance.

The bouncer at the door, a massive man in a black suit with an earpiece, spotted us approaching. Mia simply smiled at him. That smile she used when she knew exactly the effect she had on people.

He nodded and pulled the red rope aside without hesitation.

We walked straight in.

“There’s no point in getting all done up at the salon in the morning just to spend the night hiding in your apartment,” Mia said once we were inside, raising her voice to be heard over the electronic music dominating the space.

The place was exactly what I’d expected. Colored lights slicing through the darkness. Beautiful people dressed in expensive clothes. Strategically placed bars serving elaborate cocktails. Elevated VIP tables where the truly influential sat, physically and socially separated from the crowd below.

“And besides,” Mia continued, steering me toward one of the VIP areas, “if you want to meet someone

from Florentia’s most powerful families, this is the place.”

“First,” I shot back, leaning closer so she could hear me, “I never said I want to meet someone-” Mia rolled her eyes dramatically. “And second,” I went on, gesturing vaguely at the crowd around us, “I already know most of those faces. From boardrooms.”

My eyes swept the room, immediately recognizing people. Alexander Ferguson, heir to the Ferguson hotel chain, was at a corner table with a group. I’d closed a distribution deal with him just last month. Joanna Banks, from Banks Winery, one of our direct competitors in several markets, was at the bar talking to someone I didn’t recognize.

“Gwen,” Mia said, stopping and turning me to face her, her hands settling on my shoulders, “forget work. Seriously. Just for one night.” Her expression grew more serious. “If you don’t know them outside that context, it doesn’t count,” she added firmly. “You need to stop seeing everyone as a potential business partner or competitor and start seeing them as, I don’t know, normal people. Available men.”

“I don’t know, Mia…” I began, glancing around uncertainly.

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“Just try,” she cut in, squeezing my shoulders. “Seriously, Gwen. You haven’t thought of yourself that way in years. When was the last time you went on a date? Kissed someone? Let yourself feel something romantic for anyone?” She hesitated. “Nick doesn’t count, obviously. You weren’t being yourself with him

“That’s not exactly-” I tried to explain, but my voice didn’t sound convincing, not even to me.

“Matthew?” Mia asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Did something happen with Matthew?”

I rolled my eyes.

“No. Just a few kisses,” I admitted. “I think we tried, but we worked better as friends. Besides, he’s Zoey and Anne’s brother. I didn’t want to mix things up and complicate family relationships.”

“So since the…?” Mia let the sentence trail off, her voice softening.

“Since the… incident,” I finished, feeling that familiar tightness in my chest. “No one who mattered. No one real.”

I paused, then admitted the obvious.

“Just Nick.”

Mia studied me for a long moment, her expression softening into something between understanding and

determination.

“Then let’s see Nick as the man who got you back into the game,” she said, turning me toward the packed club. “He reminded you that you can still feel things. That you still want to feel things.”

She swept her hand broadly, taking in the entire club, all the beautiful, well-dressed people.

“And now you have a whole field of potential suitors,” she finished with a smile. “So pick one and at least try to have some fun.”

I tried. I really did.

We danced. The music was good, the kind of polished electronic sound you only hear in expensive clubs. Mia introduced me to a few of her friends, people I vaguely recognized from social events but had

never actually talked to.

We chatted with a few men. Some were clearly interested, approaching with that confident smile of men used to getting what they wanted. Others were more reserved but still made the effort, striking up conversations about anything they could think of.

I accepted a few drinks. Nothing too strong, because I’ve never been one to lose control, but enough to soften the sharp edges of my constant vigilance.

One of them was particularly persistent. Peter something. Handsome in a classic way, dark hair perfectly styled, strong jaw, an easy, charming smile.

We talked. He was funny, with that dry, sarcastic humor I usually enjoyed. He worked in investments and

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casually mentioned he’d just gotten back from London, where he’d closed a deal worth some absurd number of millions.

We danced. He was good at it, confident without being aggressive, his hands respectful but suggestive in all the right ways.

Then, when we returned to the VIP table to grab our drinks, he leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing my ear so I could hear him over the music.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low, heavy with clear intention. “Talk somewhere quieter? I know a place a few blocks from here. Much more peaceful. More… intimate.”

Before I could answer-and honestly, I wasn’t sure yet whether I would say yes or no-my phone vibrated inside my small purse.

Out of pure habit, always ready to deal with work no matter the time or place, I pulled it out automatically.

It was probably Christian. Or an urgent email. Or some work notification that technically could wait until Monday but that my brain always treated as critical.

I looked at the screen.

It wasn’t business.

It was a message from Nick.

[I’ll be in Florentia on Monday. I was thinking of seeing you. Can we talk?]

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