Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 625 Gwen's POV | was just as uncomfortable as Nick, maybe even more. But | kept pretending everything was normal, because | knew he was pretending too. It wasn't. Conversation over the improvised snack felt forced. | asked generic questions about the drive. He answered politely, but there was distance in his voice. We both carefully avoided the enormous elephant in the room. Or rather, the enormous penthouse around us. After we finished eating in awkward silence, | cleaned up the kitchen quickly and turned to him with what | hoped was a natural smile. "Come on," | said.

"I want to show you some places | love in Florentia. Not just the tourist spots. My real Florentia." Nick nodded, looking relieved to have something to do besides standing in my apartment trying not to stare at everything that whispered money. We went down to the garage in heavy silence. ---- When the elevator doors opened, | hesitated for just a second before asking, "Is it okay if we take my car? I'll drive, since | know the city better. | want to take you to a few specific places." "Of course," Nick agreed quickly. "That makes sense." | walked toward the spaces reserved for the apartment.

Three cars sat there. The white Fiat 500 | always drove to the estate. It was perfect for not drawing attention The gray Audi A3 Sportback | used daily in Florentia. It was elegant enough for the city, but nothing flashy. And the silver Mercedes convertible that mostly sat untouched, covered in a thin layer of dust from disuse. | followed through on my so-called reality-shock plan, which was now starting to feel like one of the worst ideas I'd ever had, and walked straight past the first two. To the Mercedes. | unlocked it. The sharp beep echoed through the silent garage.

Nick didn't say a word. He simply got into the passenger seat, buckled his seatbelt with ---- mechanical movements, and stared straight ahead | started the engine. The smooth pur filled the silence We pulled out of the garage, the doorman opening the gate automatically with a polite nod. "First," | said, forcing brightness into my voice, "I'm taking you somewhere | love. It's not touristy. It's where | go when | need to slow down." Nick nodded, still looking out the window.

into an alley most people walked past without noticing. It specialized in first editions and rare books. The owner, Mrs. Catherine, greeted me warmly the second we stepped inside. "Gwen! What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed, hugging me like family. | introduced Nick. Catherine proudly showed us a few

art gallery where I'd

to have dinner there?" | knew it might be too much for the first day. But part of me needed to believe he could stand beside me in this world without feeling small. "Sure," Nick said. ---- | drove us there. It wasn't loud luxury. It was understated elegance. Historic

the door. The moment we stepped inside, Nick stopped. He looked around. The interior was stunning. White linen tablecloths. Candlelight. Original art on the walls. Impeccably dressed waiters. And a clientele that was unmistakably wealthy. Tailored suits Subtle but authentic jewelry. Low, polished conversations. The maitre

through the restaurant. Nick walked beside me, but | could feel the tension radiating off him. ---- As soon as we sat down, he finally spoke. His voice was low. Tight. "You should've warned me." "Warned you about what?" | asked, even though | knew exactly what he meant. "So | could've brought something more... appropriate to wear," he said, glancing down at his simple shirt, regular jeans, practical shoes. Around us, men wore tailored shirts, pressed