Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 622

Chapter 622

Gwen’s POV

The rooftop café was one of my favorite places in Florentia.

From one side, you could see the grand cathedral’s dome rising over the city. From the other, the river cut through the rooftops like a ribbon of light. And the almond croissants were practically a religious

experience.

It was Friday morning, before work. I was sitting at a small table with a panoramic view, trying not to show the panic slowly building in my chest.

Dante sat across from me, sipping his double espresso with the infuriating calm of someone who had absolutely no problems in the world.

“You’re acting weird,” he observed, studying me over the rim of his cup. “You’ve been eating that croissant for ten minutes and you’ve barely taken three bites.”

I glanced at my plate.

He was right.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted at last.

“Nervous about what?” he asked, leaning his elbow on the table.

“Nick’s coming to Florentia tomorrow,” I said, as if that explained everything.

And in a way, it did.

Dante nodded slowly, processing.

“Okay,” he said. “And how exactly did you prepare him for… all this?”

I grimaced.

“That’s the problem,” I confessed miserably. “I didn’t.”

His eyes widened.

“Fantastic,” he said dryly. “So you’re just going to let the guy dive headfirst into your secret parallel life that he doesn’t even know exists, and you didn’t even toss him a float? Brilliant. Outstanding strategy.”

“That’s… more or less the plan,” I muttered, tearing off a microscopic piece of croissant.

ou’re just going to sit back and watch him drown?” Dante pressed, arching an eyebrow.

No, of course not,” I shot back, setting the croissant down harder than necessary. “I just… I don’t know how to do this, okay, Dante? I don’t know how to untangle the gigantic mess I created. So maybe… maybe it’s better if he just sees things with his own eyes and realizes that maybe… I’m not exactly who he thinks

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I am.”

Dante nodded, like he understood.

“Reality shock,” he summarized. “You know what? It’s never a great idea. But go ahead, cousin. At least I’ll have a good story to tell at family dinners for the next ten years.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What do you suggest then?” I asked, genuinely desperate for any advice that might actually help.

Dante grinned, that dangerous grin that meant he was about to say something completely useless but brutally honest.

“Out of all the people you could ask for romantic advice,” he said slowly, “are you sure I’m your best option?”

I laughed despite myself.

“Fair point,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Still,” Dante went on, turning a little more serious, “I’ll tell you what I don’t suggest: don’t take him to Kensington. Not yet. It’s too big. Too corporate. Too intimidating.”

He paused to take another sip of coffee.

“Start with what’s just yours,” he advised. “I mean, the second he walks into your apartment he’s basically going to see a giant banner hanging in your living room that says ‘Surprise! I’m rich!’ But there’s a difference between you being rich and you being a Kensington…”

“I know,” I cut in. “There’s a gap the size of a canyon.”

“Exactly,” Dante agreed. “Having money is one thing. Having power, influence, generations of empire on your shoulders? That’s something else entirely.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of that truth settle over me.

“Are you sure you want to do this without any warning at all?” Dante asked, his voice genuinely concerned now.

I looked out at Florentia stretching beneath the morning light.

“No,” I admitted. “I’m not sure about anything.”

That night, after work, I went home with my stomach in knots.

ed, changed into something comfortable, and positioned myself carefully in my bedroom.

Neutral wall behind me. Nothing identifiable. Nothing that screamed luxury apartment in the historic center of Florentia.

Just like I always did when Nick called.

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My phone rang exactly at nine, like we’d planned.

I answered the video call, and his face filled the screen. Smiling. Relaxed.

“Hey,” he said, that smile melting my defenses instantly.

“Hey,” I replied, forcing normalcy into my voice.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” he said without hesitation.

I laughed, trying to lighten my own tension.

“Who would’ve thought?” I teased. “Nicholas Valemont excited to visit big, scary Florentia.”

He laughed for real.

“That’s not it,” he corrected gently. “I’m excited to see another piece of your life. To see where you live, where you work, your favorite spots. All of it.”

My heart tightened in my chest.

“I’m excited too,” I said, and it was true.

Even if my excitement was tangled up with absolute terror.

We talked for almost an hour. About Bella, who was thrilled to spend the weekend baking cookies with Martina. About the estate, which had just received three new weekday bookings, something unusual but promising. About his work. About my work, which I kept describing in the same vague, carefully edited way I always did.

About nothing and everything at the same time.

Eventually, reluctantly, we said goodbye.

“See you tomorrow,” Nick said, that soft smile still on his face.

“See you tomorrow,” I echoed.

I ended the call.

Then I just sat there on the bed, staring at the phone in my hand.

Dante’s words replayed in my head.

Letting him dive in without even a float.

Lofood and walked to the window. Florentia glittered below, glowing under the night sky. My city. My life.

Nick didn’t know.

I rested my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes.

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Tomorrow he would be here. He would see my enormous apartment. The three cars in my garage. My routine. Everything I had hidden so carefully.

live The

And then what? Would he just… understand? Accept it? Forgive every lie by omission?

Or would he look at me with the disappointment I feared most?

I took a deep breath and went back to the bed.

Picked up my phone again.

Maybe… maybe if I warned him first. If I gave him time to process before seeing it with his own eyes.

I opened our messages and started typing.

[Before you come, there’s something about me you need to know.]

I stared at the words.

Deleted them.

Typed again, trying a different approach.

[Nick, I haven’t been completely honest about certain parts of my life.]

Deleted that too.

Tried once more.

[I need to tell you something important before tomorrow.]

Deleted.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, frozen by indecision.

In the end, I sent only: [Can’t wait to see you in Florentia.]

I tossed the phone onto the bed and dragged my hands over my face.

I could postpone the truth a little longer.

Just one more day.

Just until he saw it for himself.

But I knew, with the same certainty I knew the streets of Florentia with my eyes closed, that I couldn’t hide it forever.

r later, he would find out who I really was.

The only choice I had left was whether he would hear it from me… or from someone else.

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