Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 712

Chapter 712

Matthew’s POV

I should have said no.

Not because of what it was, because I had already learned, in practice, that a child’s life weighs more than any personal discomfort.

I should have said no because of the setting.

Because of the COO chair that still felt too big beneath my back.

Because of the irony of wearing a suit chosen for a meeting and not for… this.

And most of all because only Gwen could put me in a position that required cold blood, a strong stomach, and a very specific kind of courage. The kind that meant stepping into the territory of her worst enemy and not losing control.

I stopped in front of the house and looked at the intercom.

Address confirmed.

My finger hovered for a second.

It was ridiculous. I had dealt with worse. Negotiated with people who smiled while calculating how to destroy you. Walked

through airports with the wrong documents and the perfect excuse. Worked in a country where a single mistake could get you deported.

And still, pressing that button felt hard.

Because I wasn’t there for me.

I was there for her.

For Gwen.

And that was what annoyed me the most.

I respected boundaries. Respected Nick. Respected the marriage. Respected the family she had chosen to build.

But I hadn’t managed to stop feeling.

I had managed to stay quiet.

And in that moment, the problem wasn’t my body. It was the memory of how easy it was, with Gwen, to say yes before reason could finish the sentence.

I pressed the intercom.

A female voice answered, briefly.

“Who is it?”

I gave the agreed upon name. The name that wasn’t mine.

The electric lock clicked.

Door released.

I stepped inside.

Renee appeared at the door before I could knock.

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She was beautiful in a practiced way. Hair in place, precise makeup, expensive perfume. She assessed me like I was an item before I was a man.

“You’re punctual,” she said.

I smiled just enough.

“Professional flaw.”

“Come in,” she said.

I did.

The place was too quiet. Not in a relaxing way. In an intimidating one. No TV noise. No radio: No sound of a child. Which should have been normal, of course. No one in their right mind would leave a child in the middle of something like this.

But maybe Renee wasn’t in her right mind.

I remembered what Gwen had said, low, in the middle of that chaos.

“She told me she gets locked in her room.”

Renge closed the door and turned toward the stairs.

“Come on,” she said.

I followed, keeping my expression neutral.

She opened a bedroom door.

I recognized it before I could even register details. The stronger scent of perfume. A bed made too perfectly for someone who actually lived there. Pillows arranged like a set piece.

Renee took off her coat with a slow, deliberate movement.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said.

I didn’t.

I sat on the edge of the armchair, not the bed.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Are you shy?”

I let out a short laugh.

“No.”

Renee stepped closer.

!

And for a second, it almost turned comical. Her advancing with the confidence of someone who had never heard no, and me dodging with the careful politeness of someone trying not to turn this into a scandal.

She placed her hand on my chest.

I caught her wrist with courteous firmness.

“Tonight I’d rather… talk,” I said.

Renee stopped.

She looked at me like I had just said I wanted to pay to listen to poetry.

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“Talk,” she repeated.

I kept my expression neutral.

“Yes.”

This was common, right?

Men who paid just to talk.

Men who wanted company and silence, not a body.

So why was she looking at me like that?

Renee stayed quiet for two seconds, and I felt the cold weight of her assessment.

“You’re… different,” she concluded.

I shrugged like it was charm.

Some people like that.

She gave a small, suspicious smile.

Sat down on the bed and crossed her legs calmly.

“Alright,” she said. “We’ll talk.”

I took a slow breath.

The plan needed time.

The plan was simple in theory. Gwen would call the police anonymously, saying she had reason to believe a minor might be in an unsafe situation at that address.

The police would arrive. Catch it in the act. Official report. Undeniable evidence.

I would be there, conveniently enough, to give a statement about what I saw. Or what I heard.

And I wouldn’t need to explain much. I could say I was there for a private meeting. That I had no connection to any ongoing dispute. Which was true enough. In Valentia, I wasn’t committing a crime by being there.

What mattered was the child.

Renee started talking.

At first, small things.

Where I was from.

What I did for work.

If I was in Montelira on business.

I answered without committing to anything.

She watched every word like she was looking for a crack.

And I thought. Why wasn’t the plan moving?

Why were the police taking so long?

The clock on the nightstand ticked through too many minutes.

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Renee tilted her head, impatient.

“You’re not very talkative,” she commented.

I smiled.

“I’m listening.”

She stood.

“Then listen to this,” she said.

Her hand went to my belt.

I stopped her again.

“Wait….”

“So you’re telling me you came here to… make friends?” she shot back, her voice losing some of its professional sweetness.

I saw the exact moment the luxury profile dropped and the real woman showed up, imitated at not being in control of the scene.

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Chapter 701

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