Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 576

Chapter 576

Gwen’s POV

“Business?” I repeated, lowering my cup slowly. “What kind of business?”

Nick ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous. His gaze slipped away from mine for a moment, settling on the coffee cup in front of him as if the answers might be written at the bottom.

“It’s complicated,” he began, his voice quieter now. “And honestly, I feel kind of… I don’t know, like I’m taking advantage? Asking you here for this. But I didn’t know who else to turn to, and you mentioned that you-”

He stopped, took a deep breath, then started again.

“We’re in serious financial trouble at the villa,” he said at last, the words coming faster now, like he needed to get them out before he lost his nerve. “Really serious.”

I stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“There’s a loan we took out a few years ago,” he explained, still not quite meeting my eyes. “When my father died, he left… well, he left some debts behind. And the property needed urgent repairs. The roof was leaking, the plumbing was old, and we had to make updates to keep operating legally as an inn.”

His fingers drummed nervously against the table.

“We took the loan thinking we could pay it off little by little with the inn’s income and the winery,” he went on. “But the debts my father left were bigger than we realized. And every time we managed to pay one thing off, something else came up. It just kept piling up over the years. Old debts mixing with new ones, interest growing, until suddenly we were buried and couldn’t get out.”

My stomach tightened. I already knew parts of this story. But if Nick was laying it all out like this, something had clearly changed. And not for the better.

“A representative from the bank came by last week,” Nick said, finally lifting his eyes to meet mine. “They gave us sixty days to catch up or present a viable repayment plan. If we don’t…” He swallowed. “They’ll enforce the collateral. They’ll take the property.”

I saw the pain in his eyes as he said it. The shame of admitting failure. The fear of losing everything.

“That’s why I came to Florentia today,” he continued. “I tried to get another loan from a different bank. I thought maybe I could use one to pay off the other, buy some time.”

“And?” I asked gently.

“They said they’d review my proposal more carefully,” he replied, but his tone made it clear he didn’t believe it. “That they’d get back to me in a few days. But I don’t think it’ll go anywhere. My credit is terrible, I already have an active loan I can’t keep up with, and I don’t have much left to offer as collateral.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Either way, we can’t keep living from loan to loan,” he said. “That doesn’t fix the real problem. It just delays it. We need to do something different. Something that actually changes our situation.”

He paused, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart start to race.

“And that’s when I thought of you.”

I froze.

Had he found out? Somehow, had he discovered that I was a Kensington? That my family had the money, the resources, the power to solve his problems with a single phone call?

Was he about to propose some kind of deal? A percentage of the property in exchange for the Kensington family stepping in to save them financially?

My mind spun in a thousand directions at once. Christian would never agree to something like that. From a purely business standpoint, it made no sense to invest in a property drowning in debt when you could simply wait and acquire it outright at market value. It was basic business logic, not cruelty.

But Nick didn’t want to sell. That much was unquestionable. He had made it painfully clear that he would rather do anything than lose the property his father had built.

“What kind of business do you have in mind?” I asked, my voice coming out tighter than I intended.

Nick didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he thought it was just professional caution.

“Well, you said…” he began, still awkward. “You said when you were there that you were looking for new clients. That you were building your independent portfolio as a consultant.”

Of course. To Nick, I was a digital marketing consultant specializing in rural tourism. Which made perfect sense. It was exactly what I’d told him I did. Supposedly my area of expertise.

“So I thought maybe you could… I don’t know, help us?” he went on, the words tumbling over each other now. “Do whatever consultants like you do for places like ours.”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“I don’t really know how pricing works,” he admitted, and I could see the color creeping up his neck. ” What you usually charge for something like this. But if we could split the payments, maybe over several installments, spread them out over a few months… I think we could manage somehow.”

I stayed completely silent, looking at Nick. At his green eyes, full of hope and vulnerability and something dangerously close to desperation.

He was asking me for help. Professional help. He was offering me work.

And I wanted to help. God, I wanted to help so badly. I wanted to do something, anything, to wipe that worried expression off his face. To make sure he didn’t lose the property he loved. To give Bella the future she deserved.

The huge impossible problem was that I wasn’t a digital marketing consultant specializing in rural

tourism.

I didn’t know the first thing about it. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

I’d worked with marketing at Kensington, yes. I actually loved that part of my job. The wine reality show we’d produced last year had been incredibly fun to plan and execute. The digital campaigns I’d overseen had delivered excellent results.

But the contexts were completely different. Kensington had a practically unlimited budget. If we wanted a massive social media campaign, we did it. If we needed professional photographers, videographers, designers, influencers-whatever it was-we just approved the budget.

And Nick could barely afford my supposed services. He probably had almost nothing to invest in real marketing.

How was I supposed to help him with zero resources? With a nonexistent budget? With-

“I’m sorry,” Nick said suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”

He started to stand, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

“I understand that your services aren’t meant for… for what I can afford,” he continued, his voice heavy with shame and resignation. “It was arrogant of me to think that-”

“No,” I cut in immediately, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before he could fully step away. “No, wait.”

Nick stopped, looking at me in surprise.

“I can help,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before my brain could fully catch up. “I can. In fact…”

I took a deep breath.

“I know exactly how to save Valemont Estate,” I lied.