Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 574

Chapter 574

Gwen’s POV

When my apartment buzzer rang at ten Sunday morning, I’d already been ready for half an hour. I’d chosen my outfit carefully: beige tailored trousers, a white silk blouse, a structured blazer, and nude pumps. Casual but elegant. Perfect for a Sunday in Florentia.

I opened the door and found Dante looking me up and down with an expression that clearly said I’d done something wrong.

“Seriously?” was all he said.

“What?” I asked, glancing down at my clothes. “Is it bad?”

“Gwen, you’re dressed for a board meeting,” he said, walking in without waiting for an invitation. “Not to pretend you’re a normal person going out for coffee with a guy.”

“I don’t know how to dress like a normal person,” I shot back, closing the door. “That’s why I called you.”

Dante went straight to my closet, opening the doors like he owned the place.

“My God,” he muttered, staring at the perfectly organized rows of designer clothes. “Is there anything in here that costs less than five hundred dollars?”

“Probably not,” I admitted.

He glanced at me over his shoulder.

“If you needed fashion advice, why didn’t you call Mia?” he asked, already rummaging through my clothes.

“Have you met a bigger trust-fund princess than Mia?” I replied, leaning against the doorframe. “She’d dress me exactly like her. And you… well, you’ve dated all kinds of women, right? You must know the styles, the places they go, how they act…”

“True,” he agreed with a smug grin. “I’m basically an expert in women across all socioeconomic levels.”

“How romantic,” I said dryly.

Half an hour later, we were inside a fast-fashion store in downtown Florentia, the kind of place I had never, ever set foot in before.

Everything felt so… cheap. The racks were crammed with clothes, the price tags making my eyes widen. Twenty dollars for a blouse? Thirty for pants?

“If it’s that cheap, it can’t be good,” I muttered, touching the fabric of a dress and grimacing.

“Gwen,” Dante said in a warning tone, “half the population dresses like this. It’s normal. It’s fine.”

I grabbed a few pieces without much conviction and headed to the fitting room while Dante waited

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outside. I tried on a simple navy-blue dress, nothing special. I stepped out to ask his opinion and found him leaning against the wall, smiling at a pretty sales associate who was very clearly interested.

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“Dante,” I called flatly.

He didn’t even look at me, just kept talking to her, making her laugh at something he’d said.

“Dante!” I repeated, louder.

Finally, he turned and gave me a quick once-over.

“No,” he said simply.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Too boring,” he explained, then gestured vaguely toward the sales associate. “Get something like what she’s wearing.”

I looked at the girl, who was wearing a much bolder floral dress, with a neckline that definitely drew attention.

“Of course it looks good on her,” I said, tugging Dante by the arm and pulling him away from the poor woman. “She has… you know… more…”

I made a vague gesture toward my chest.

“Boobs?” Dante supplied with a wicked grin. “You can say the word, Gwen. You won’t burst into flames.”

“Shut up and focus,” I ordered, shoving him back toward the waiting area.

Eventually, I found something acceptable. Jeans, not the designer kind that cost eight hundred dollars, and a simple but pretty blouse. I also bought a light cardigan, since the forecast said it would be cool.

We headed back to the car with my shopping bags. Dante started the engine but didn’t pull out right

away.

“So where are you planning to take him tomorrow?” he asked.

“His message sounded… casual. Like coffee would be fine. I was thinking that elegant café downtown,” I suggested. “Or maybe the one right on the main square…”

“Wrong,” Dante cut in. “Big mistake.”

“Why?”

“Because those places are for rich tourists and locals trying to impress,” he explained. “You want to seem normal? You need different places.” He pulled into traffic. “I’ll show you exactly where to take him.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting in a neighborhood café. Not the polished kind I usually went to. This place was simple, with slightly worn wooden tables and a handwritten menu on a chalkboard wall.

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carried everything back on a tray.

“So,” Dante said, “basic rules. Don’t mention expensive brands. Don’t talk about international travel unless he asks directly. Probably avoid wine too, because… you only know the pricey stuff. And most importantly, stay Gwen Parker.”

“I know that,” I said, picking up my coffee.

“Do you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because you just suggested taking him to cafés that charge eight dollars for an espresso.”

“I doubt you don’t show off for women,” I teased, biting into my cornetto. “With your Range Rover and your fancy clothes.”

“Of course I show off,” he admitted shamelessly. “But I know how to balance it. I know when to flex and when to tone it down. I know which restaurant will impress a girl and which one will scare her off.”

He paused, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

“And your balance, Gwen, with a guy who has explicitly said he hates people like us? It’s way down here.” He gestured around the café. “Exactly in places like this.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Eating at an expensive restaurant once in a while doesn’t make someone a billionaire,” I argued. ” Anyone can treat themselves occasionally.”

“For Nick, it practically does,” Dante said. “He’s drowning in debt, Gwen. Kensington looked into everything when Christian was thinking about buying the property. The guy can barely cover his monthly bills, let alone ‘treat himself’ to fancy restaurants.”

“I’d pay,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “Lunch, coffee, whatever. It’d be nothing for me…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Dante cut in sharply, pointing at me. “He’s old-school. He’ll pay. He’ll insist on paying even if it means living on instant noodles for the rest of the week.”

He leaned forward.

“And if you pull out one of your black cards in front of him,” he went on, “he’ll run. Literally. You’ll confirm everything he believes about rich people. That we’re all arrogant and don’t understand the value of money.”

I went quiet for a moment, stirring my coffee even though I’d added sugar ages ago.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admitted finally.

“Pretend to be someone you’re not?” Dante asked.

“Lie to Nick,” I corrected, lifting my eyes to meet his.

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