Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 622 Gwen's POV The rooftop café was one of my favorite places in Florentia. From one side, you could see the grand cathedral's dome rising over the city. From the other, the river cut through the rooftops like a ribbon of light. And the almond croissants were practically a religious experience. It was Friday morning, before work. | was sitting at a small table with a panoramic view, trying not to show the panic slowly building in my chest Dante sat across from me, sipping his double espresso with the infuriating calm of someone who had absolutely no problems in the world.

"You're acting weird," he observed, studying me over the rim of his cup. "You've been eating that croissant for ten minutes and you've barely taken three bites." | glanced at my plate. He was right. "I'm nervous," | admitted at last. ---- "Nervous about what?" he asked, leaning his elbow on the table. "Nick's coming to Florentia tomorrow," | said, as if that explained everything. And in a way, it did. Dante nodded slowly, processing. "Okay," he said. "And how exactly did you prepare him for... all this?" | grimaced. "That's the problem," | confessed miserably. "I didn't." His eyes widened.

"Fantastic," he said dryly. "So you're just going to let the guy dive headfirst into your secret parallel life that he doesn't even know exists, and you didn't even toss him a float? Brilliant. Outstanding strategy." "That's... more or less the plan," | muttered, tearing off a microscopic piece of croissant. "And you're just going to sit back and watch him drown?" Dante pressed, arching an eyebrow. "No, of course not," | shot back, setting the croissant down ---- harder than necessary. "I just... | don't know how to do this, okay, Dante?

| don't know how to untangle the gigantic mess | created. So maybe... maybe it's better if he just sees things with his own eyes and realizes that maybe... I'm not exactly who he thinks | am." Dante nodded, like he understood. "Reality shock," he summarized. "You know what? It's never a great idea. But go ahead, cousin. At least I'll have a good story to tell at family dinners for the next ten years." | rolled my eyes. "What do you suggest then?" | asked, genuinely desperate for any advice that might actually help.

completely useless but brutally honest. "Out of all the people you could ask for romantic advice," he said slowly, "are you sure I'm your best option?" | laughed despite myself, "Fair point,' | admitted, "I don't know what | was thinking." "Still," Dante went on, turning a

'Surprise! I'm rich!" But there's a difference between you being rich and you being a Kensington..." "know," I cut in. "There's a gap the size of a canyon." "Exactly," Dante agreed. "Having money is one thing. Having power, influence, generations of empire on your shoulders? That's something else entirely." |

home with my stomach in knots. | showered, changed into something comfortable, and positioned myself carefully in my bedroom Neutral wall behind me. Nothing identifiable. Nothing that ---- screamed luxury apartment in the historic center of Florentia. Just like | always did when Nick called. My phone rang exactly at nine, like

he said, that smile melting my defenses instantly. "Hey," | replied, forcing normalcy into my voice. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow," he said without hesitation. | laughed, trying to lighten my own tension. "Who would've thought?" | teased. "Nicholas Valemont excited to visit big, scary Florentia." He laughed for real. "That's not it," he corrected gently. "I'm excited to see another piece of your life. To see where you

hour. About Bella, who was thrilled to spend the weekend baking cookies with Martina. About the estate, which had just received three new weekday bookings, something unusual but promising. About his work. About my work, which | kept describing in the same vague, carefully edited way | always did. About nothing and