Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 657

Chapter 657

Gwen’s POV

I looked at him.

At the man I loved, standing at the top of that tower, holding the open velvet box, the ring catching the ruthless Castorian sunlight.

Vulnerable. Exposed. Fear still flickering in his eyes, and beneath it, a fragile hope trying not to die.

My chest tightened.

For days, I had watched Nick pull away. Build walls. Create distance because of Renee. Because of the poison she knew exactly how to drip into the cracks.

Not anymore.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air that smelled like earth and ripening grapes.

“Then ask me,” I said. My voice came out steady. Clear. A decision. “Put the ring on my finger.”

He blinked, like I’d just yanked the foundation out from under his excuses.

“But Renee-*

“Forget Renee,” I cut in, the anger in my voice surprising even me. “Forget her plan. Forget what she wants. What she expects. What she predicted you would do.”

I stepped closer.

“If you love me,” I continued, softer now but no less intense, “if you want me as your wife, if you want to build a life with me… then ask me. Here. Now. The way you always wanted to.”

He swallowed. The wind lifted a strand of his hair and tossed it across his forehead.

“Even knowing it’s exactly what she wants?”

I held his gaze.

“Especially knowing that,” I answered. “Because I’m not going to let that woman control our decisions.

I’m not going to let her steal our moments. I refuse to live a life where we’re constantly reacting to Renee like she owns the script.”

I stopped inches from him.

“We live our life. We make our choices. And we deal with the consequences together.”

Something gave in his expression. Like a rope pulled too tight finally loosening.

The tension in his shoulders eased. His jaw unclenched. And for the first time in days, he smiled for real.

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“You never let yourself break, do you?” he said, and there was tenderness there. Admiration. “Always strong. Always determined.”

I let out a small laugh, emotion pressing at my throat.

“Oh, I break,” I admitted. “All the time.”

I shrugged lightly.

“I just don’t let it decide for me.”

Something shifted in his eyes. Recognition. Like he finally understood that my courage wasn’t the absence of fear. It was moving anyway.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Nick lowered himself to one knee.

He opened the box fully, revealing the delicate ring he’d been carrying like a secret and a promise.

“Gwen…” he began. His voice trembled at the edges, but there was steel in the center. “When I saw you lying in that hospital bed, lost somewhere between life and death… I was terrified.”

He held my gaze like he needed proof I was here.

“Truly terrified,” he repeated, swallowing hard. “Of losing you forever. Of the woman you are being trapped somewhere I couldn’t reach. Of never hearing you laugh at my terrible jokes again… or argue with me about wine like the fate of the world depends on it.”

A quick, helpless smile flickered and disappeared.

“But you started coming back,” he continued, and there was pride in his voice now. “Piece by piece. Fragment by fragment. Even when it hurt. And in the middle of all that chaos, I realized something.”

He drew in a steady breath.

“I loved you in every possible version of you. With all your memories or none. Knowing your past or not. As Gwen Parker or Gwen Kensington. Rich, broke, powerful, vulnerable… none of that changes what you

are to me.”

Emotion slipped through the cracks. His eyes shone..

“Because the essence…” His voice faltered, and he forced himself to keep going. “The essence of who you are never changed. Not even when everything else was gone.”

The wind picked up, and I felt goosebumps rise on my arms.

“You’re brave,” he said, like he was listing undeniable facts. “Stubborn. Brilliant. Kind even when the world doesn’t deserve it. Strong even when you’re breaking inside. You’re… everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

His fingers tightened around the box like it was the only thing holding his heart in place.

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*So, Gwen Parker Kensington…” He lifted his head, conviction steady again. “Will you marry me? Will you build a complicated, imperfect, beautiful life with me? Will you be my wife… and let me be your husband?”

My chest ached.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like the entire tower could hear it.

The tears came without permission, and I didn’t try to stop them.

I tried to speak and nothing came out. My throat was too tight.

“Yes,” I said, my voice thick but clear in intent. “Yes. I will. I accept everything.”

Nick took the ring from the box with near reverence. He held my hand like it was sacred and slid the gold onto my ring finger so gently I barely felt the touch, but the impact was absolute.

I felt everything.

The weight. The meaning. The this is real now.

I looked down at the ring shining on my finger.

The same ring I had worn when I was lost.

Except this time, it wasn’t temporary shelter.

It was a choice.

Nick was still on one knee, looking at me like I’d just given him air back.

I pulled him up, almost dragging him to his feet.

And I kissed him.

Hard. Desperate. Urgent.

Like the days of distance had been a kind of thirst.

He kissed me back instantly, like he’d been waiting for permission to exist again. His hands slid to my waist, tightening, pulling me closer until there wasn’t space left for doubt.

The kiss deepened. Less desperation now. More promise.

Promise of a future. Of shared mornings Of nights without distance. Of a life built side by side, even when it was hard.

“I’m filthy,” Nick murmured against my lips when he finally managed to breathe. “Construction dust sweat, I probably smell terrible-”

“I don’t care,” I cut in without hesitation.

And in a rush born somewhere between anger and relief, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

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His smile was quick. Surprised and happy all at once. He lifted me easily, his hands firm on my thighs as he braced me against the cool medieval stone wall.

The roughness of the stone through my thin shirt. The contrast with the heat of his body. The cold wind against our faces while the sun warmed everything else.

I barely registered any of it.

I was too busy kissing my fiancé.

My fiancé.

The word bounced around in my mind with a bright, almost childish joy.

We kissed until we ran out of air. Until our bodies protested. Until we had to stop because breathing was a biological requirement.

I rested my forehead against his. We were both breathing hard, hearts racing like they were trying to catch up to each other.

I kept my legs wrapped around his waist. My hands laced behind his neck, possessive, like the world had tried to take him from me and I was finally allowed to say no.

I looked into his eyes. Saw love there. Obvious. Unprotected.

And I didn’t understand how I had survived even a single day without it.

“We’re getting married,” I said, testing the words like a rare wine. Savoring them.

Nick smiled. That smile that had undone me from the start.

“We’re getting married,” he confirmed.

And kissed me again.

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