Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 579 Nicholas' POV It was late afternoon, and | should have been checking next week's reservations or helping my mother in the kitchen. Instead, | was leaning against the reception doorway, watching Gwen work. She was talking to a couple of guests who'd arrived the day before. German, if | had to guess from their accents. She asked questions, jotted notes into a small notebook, nodded encouragingly as they answered. She was fully in professional mode. Straight posture. Polite but not overdone smile. Attentive eyes catching every detail.

Nothing like the woman who'd thrown herself into my arms in the cabin during the snowstorm. Nothing like the woman who'd kissed me in the living room weeks ago. This was Gwen the consultant. And it was fascinating to watch. The German couple clearly loved the attention. The woman gestured animatedly, pointing toward the vineyards outside the window, obviously excited about something. Her husband chimed in now and then. That was when Gwen looked up and caught me watching. ---- Our eyes met for a brief moment. She smiled. Not the courteous, professional smile she'd given the couple.

This one was softer. More personal. Just for me. She said something to them, probably excusing herself, then walked over. "Hi," she said when she reached me. "How long have you been standing there watching me like a weirdo?" "| wasn't watching you in a weird way," | said defensively. "! was watching you in a completely normal way. Just... watching." She laughed. "Right. And what does the perfectly normal observer need?" "Actually," | said, straightening from my relaxed position against the doorframe, "I was thinking. Last time you were here, everything was covered in snow.

You barely got to see the property properly. So | thought you might want to see it from a different perspective." Gwen tilted her head, curious. "Are you giving tourists a truck tour now?" she asked, referring to the ones | usually did on weekends. "No," | shook my head. "I was thinking something more private. ---- Just the two of us. Do you know how to ride a bike?" She blinked, clearly not expecting that question. "Yes..." she said slowly, confused. "Why?" "Come with me." | led her around to the back of the inn, where we kept a few old bicycles. Two of them were in decent shape.

checked the tires and oiled the chains earlier, hoping she'd say yes. held her bike steady while she climbed on, making sure she was balanced before letting go. "Ready?" "Ready," she said, still a little unsure but determined. | mounted my own bike and started pedaling at an easy pace, guiding us along a dirt path that cut through the vineyards. | glanced back once to make sure she was following. She was. Riding carefully, but with growing confidence, her gaze already

green now, vines just beginning to bud with ---- spring on the way. The hills rolled gently in every direction, dotted here and there with tall cypress trees and old stone houses | showed her everything as we rode. The oldest vineyards. The small seventeenth-century

tower," | explained when we stopped so she could look more closely, "was part of the old fortification that protected the trade road to Siena. It's more than seven hundred years old, and you can still climb to the top." Gwen got off her bike and stepped closer to the tower, tilting her head

Facebook page no one updates." She stared at me like I'd just confessed to a crime. Nick,' she said slowly, "you have a property with seven hundred ---- years of history, vineyards that look like a painting, a historic chapel, a medieval tower people can actually explore... and you practically don't tell anyone about any of this?" "People who come here see all of it," |

already climbing back onto her bike. "Keep going," she ordered. "I want to see everything." We rode on, heading up a slightly steep trail that led to the highest point on the property. My legs burned a little with the effort, but it was worth it. When we reached the

in the distance, its medieval towers etched against the sky. And straight ahead, the sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, bathing everything in gold and orange. An old oak tree stood there, its thick branches stretching over the clearing. Hanging from one of the lower branches was