Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 655 Gwen's POV In the days after the meeting at the gelato shop, something shifted. Subtle. Gradual. Like a thin layer of ice forming over water that used to run free. Nick started sleeping on the couch: "Bella and Martina are using the guest room," he explained the first night, grabbing an extra pillow from the closet. "And I'm going to stay up watching some documentaries about winemaking. | don't want to wake you with the TV." It made sense. It even sounded thoughtful. So | didn't question it, But the second night, he gave the same explanation. Just as casually.

The third night, too. The fourth. Before | realized it, an entire week had passed without him sleeping in our bed. The bed felt too big. | started waking up alone every morning. ---- Nick had already left. Always early. Always before the sun had fully risen. "I need to get to the estate early," he would text when | asked." The contractors start at seven. | want to supervise everything personally." Reasonable. Responsible. The rebuild mattered. But it meant we no longer had breakfast together. No more slow, sleepy minutes at the kitchen table.

No Bella narrating her entire universe while Nick stole fruit from my plate like it was some sacred morning ritual. When he came home at night, it was late. "Long day," he would murmur, dropping his keys on the entry table. "I'm exhausted." And he was. Dust from the construction clung to his clothes. There was a heaviness in his eyes that wasn't just physical. His shoulders stayed tight. His mouth set in a straight line, like smiling required more energy than he had left. We ate dinner together because Bella insisted. Because Martina cooked and called us all to the table.

But the dinners were quiet. Polite. Functional. ---- Nick answered questions about his day with one-word responses. Asked about my work without really listening to the answer. And when | tried to touch him, a hand on his arm, my fingers brushing his when | passed the salt, he moved away. Not obviously. Not cruelly. He just... shifted. Got up to get water. Remembered something he had "forgotten." Checked if Bella had finished her food. Asked Martina if she needed help with anything. Always a reasonable excuse. Our conversations narrowed to logistics.

Efficient. Functional. Empty. What hurt the most was that with Bella, he was exactly the same. He played with her in the pool for hours. Laughed loudly at her silly jokes. Helped with homework patiently. Read bedtime stories in ridiculous voices

and respect. Only with me had he built a wall. It took me days to admit it wasn't just stress. It wasn't just exhaustion from the reconstruction. It was a deliberate choice to keep emotional distance. From me. On the tenth night, | couldn't take it anymore. "Nick," | called when he started to get up from the table after dinner. "Can we talk?"

this tomorrow?" "You're tired every day," | pointed out, my frustration slipping through. "There's always a reason." "It's not a reason," he shot back, finally looking at me, his expression closed off. "It's reality. I'm dealing with the reconstruction, a pending court case, new business issues. I'm exhausted." I could have backed down. | could have let it slide again

see. Like my words had brushed against something he was keeping locked away. ---- He looked away. "| need a shower," he said. And he left. | stayed there, staring at his empty chair, with that awful feeling of being in a full house

like it was a lifeline. "Tell me," she said simply. So | did. Everything. The gradual distance. The repeated excuses. The subtle coldness. The way he was normal with everyone else but me. The way | was starting to feel... inconvenient. ---- Zoey listened in silence, sipping her coffee, nodding occasionally. She didn't interrupt. Didn't try to fix it before | was done. When | finished, she let out a long sigh. "He's