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Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 718

Chapter 718

Renee’s POV

Friday arrived with the taste of a quiet promise. Well-dressed people. Calculated lighting. Glasses that never stayed empty. Conversations that sounded casual but were really résumés in disguise.

I had received an invitation to an art exhibition in Florentia. Not one of those small events with half a dozen acquaintances and lukewarm wine. This was one of those crowded nights full of rich people and expensive drinks, held in a curated gallery that knew how to make its own name sound like a password.

It was always good to go.

My work had been solving my temporary money problem, but beauty and youth have an expiration date. I wasn’t in the habit of betting everything on a single solution. I had plans.

And yes, a rich husband was still at the top of the list. An excellent option. Because in the end, the world forgives almost anything when you’re in the right place beside the right man.

I went into the living room, where Bella was watching TV.

“Sweetheart, Mommy’s going out tonight,” I said in the sweet voice that works better than yelling.

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She looked up.

“Are you going to work?”

I smiled.

“I’m meeting some people,” I replied. “The babysitter will stay with you.”

Bella grew serious, like she was learning to read the world through what wasn’t being said.

“What time are you coming back?”

“Before you go to sleep,” I lied with the calm of someone offering a blanket.

She accepted the lie the way children do. Because they need to.

The babysitter arrived right on time and I left simple instructions. Nothing excessive.

“Dinner at eight. Bath at nine. Bed at ten,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied.

I crouched down, smoothed Bella’s hair, and kissed her forehead.

“Be good,” I asked, like the problem in our lives was behavior.

She nodded.

I grabbed my bag, my keys, and left.

The drive to Florentia was a road I knew well. The streetlights, the curves, the kind of scenery that stays beautiful even when you’re not in the mood to notice.

I parked nearby and walked to the gallery. The building had that discreet elegance. Old façade, tall doors, staff dressed in black. Everything clean. Everything controlled.

I headed to the coat check, where a receptionist smiled with trained politeness.

“Good evening,” I said.

Chapter 718

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“Good evening, ma’am,” she replied. “Your name?”

I gave it. She checked a printed list and nodded.

“Perfect. One note before you enter. Cell phones are not allowed inside.”

I blinked.

“What?”

She kept her patient smile.

“Gallery policy. The artwork cannot be photographed.”

I glanced to the side and saw other guests handing over their phones with almost offensive ease. Some complained, but they handed them over anyway. Because in the end, no one wants to be the only one who seems difficult.

I took a breath.

“Alright,” I said.

She handed me a small, clear pouch, the kind they use in labs. I slipped my phone inside and she tagged it, sealing it carefully.

“Have a wonderful evening,” she said.

“I will,” I replied, and I meant it.

I walked in.

The gallery was packed. Groups formed and dissolved with ease. Glasses moved from hand to hand. Laughter happened at the right volume. Everyone seemed aware of their own best angle.

I chose the first room as my starting point and began to circulate.

A white, minimalist sculpture with a placard explaining a concept no one there actually wanted to discuss. A massive, almost aggressive painting that was better suited for photos than reflection. A perfect irony, considering the no phone rule.

I stopped near a man in an impeccable suit who spoke about investments like they were philosophy.

“Do you understand art?” he asked, trying to sound interested.

“I understand people,” I replied, smiling.

He laughed, pleased with his own luck.

I stayed just long enough for him to see me as a possibility, not a conversation. Then I moved away, like I’d been pulled elsewhere.

I always preferred to control the pace.

I found a second man. Older. More self assured. An expensive watch and a comfortable kind of arrogance. He asked where I was from. I said I lived nearby, that I had a daughter, that I enjoyed events like this. He liked the package. Beautiful woman. Mother. Present in the right place. The kind of combination that reads as respectable.

I kept his name. His last name too.

If I didn’t leave with at least three promising bachelors’ business cards, they could change my name.

I kept walking, trading short sentences, small laughs, looks that promise without delivering.

I was in my element.

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And that was exactly why it irritated me when I felt, suddenly, that my body detected a presence before I saw it.

I had gone to the bar for a drink. The counter was long, underlit, bottles lined up like trophies.

“A spritz?” he suggested.

“That works,” I replied.

And that was when I heard, behind me, a female voice.

“Tsk,” the voice said, calm and low, like someone commenting on the weather. “Leaving your daughter at home to come to a party.”

I froze for half a second.

Then I turned.

Gwen Kensington was there.

She held a glass of water. Hair immaculate. Makeup perfect. An expensive dress. The full package to make me hate her.

I felt my smile arrive before my body had decided whether it should.

“Gwen,” I greeted, like it was a pleasant coincidence. “If you’ve got another one of those plans to send the police to my house…” I said, keeping my voice low and polite so anyone nearby would hear nothing but conversation, “don’t bother. My daughter is perfectly fine with the babysitter.”

Gwen held my gaze.

“I don’t doubt she’s with the babysitter,” she replied. “But I wouldn’t say she’s perfectly fine.”

“Look, cut it out, Kensington,” I said, my smile turning firmer, more social. “My goal tonight isn’t you.”

She lifted her glass and made a minimal toast with that water, the kind of gesture that wants to look superior.

“Enjoy yourself,” she said.

And I walked away.

I set Gwen aside for the moment.

And went back to my objective.

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