Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 624 Nicholas' POV | turned off the engine and sat there for a second, hands still gripping the steering wheel, like | could throw the car into reverse and pretend I'd driven to the wrong city. I didn't. The garage was too clean and organized. Expensive cars filled the spaces around me. Mine looked like it had wandered in by mistake. | followed the signs to the elevators, trying to ignore the creeping sense that | didn't belong here. The panel was stainless steel, polished like a mirror. Above the buttons, a small screen asked for a code.

| remembered what the doorman had said, pulled out the slip of paper he'd handed me, and typed it in. A discreet beep. The penthouse button lit up. The doors slid closed, and suddenly it was just me and my reflection. Stubble. Simple shirt. The kind of exhaustion that never really leaves. For a second, Renee's message flashed through my mind again. ---- 'You have no idea who Gwen really is.' | closed my eyes and took a slow breath. | knew enough. | knew who she had been with me. For now, that was what mattered. The elevator chimed and the doors opened.

The penthouse corridor was silent, thick carpet swallowing my footsteps. Only one door at the end | rang the bell before | could overthink it A few seconds later, the door opened. Gwen stood there Barefoot. Jeans. A simple white T-shirt. Her hair pulled up ina messy bun. No heels. No designer dress. Just Gwen. "Hi," she said, smiling. The same smile from the estate, just ina completely different setting, "You made it." The knot in my stomach loosened slightly. "I made it," | said, unable to stop my eyes from drifting over her shoulder. "Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Welcome to...

the chaos." ---- | walked through the door and stopped. The apartment was flooded with natural light. Massive windows opened up to Florentia. Terracotta rooftops, domes, bell towers. A postcard view. Light wood floors. A large neutral-toned couch piled with cushions. Modern art on the walls. Framed photos. A bookshelf lined with wine books, marketing titles, novels, and even a children's book. It wasn't flashy or screaming for attention. But every detail whispered expensive. "You live... here?" The question slipped out before | could stop it.

awkward half-smile. It's a family apartment, so... But yes. I'm the one living here right now." Family Right There was a whole part of her story I'd never fully seen. "You never..." | started, but the words died in my throat. ---- She bit her lip. "| know," she said quietly. "It's a

my arm. "Let me show you the view." She led me to the glass doors that opened

What scared me was something else. This stopped being a stopover and became... a base. And | arrived carrying a weight that felt paralyzing." | tried to picture that version of her. Lused to stand right here," she continued, glancing down at the streets below, "looking down there and trying to figure out where \fit." "And now?"

nothing but some tourist-packed restaurant." "You

information, I've managed not to starve for years," she said, then added more honestly, "with a very well-stocked freezer, obviously." "That sounds much more believable," | teased. She motioned for me to follow her back inside. "Come on. I'll improvise something now, and then I'll show you the part of Florentia that actually matters. Not just the part with the

glass dish covered in plastic wrap, then reach into the fridge. Several containers were neatly stacked, labeled in handwriting | knew wasn't hers. ---- These weren't takeout boxes. They were real dishes. Homemade food. She heated the tomato sauce in