Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

- Chapter 575 Gwen's POV | looked at myself in the mirror for the thousandth time, adjusting my jeans for the hundredth, tugging my blouse up, then down, trying to decide if it looked good or if | seemed like | was trying too hard Or not enough. Honestly, | wasn't sure anymore | grabbed my phone and snapped a quick mirror selfie, sending it to Mia with the caption: Is this okay? Her reply came seconds later: | can see the lack of quality in those jeans from here, so... perfect! | rolled my eyes but smiled. It wasn't that bad.

The jeans were comfortable, the blouse simple but pretty, the cardigan light enough for the weather. | looked... normal. Like anyone else heading out for coffee on a Monday morning. Which brought me to the next point. I'd taken the day off from Kensington. Technically, I'd given myself the day off, since that was one of the perks of being COO. | could just announce I'd be unavailable and no one ---- questioned it. Not everyone could do that. | knew that.

But since Nick thought | was a freelance consultant without a fixed schedule, he wouldn't find it strange that | was meeting him at a café during business hours on a Monday. | grabbed my purse, not the Prada | usually carried, but a simpler 'one I'd bought years ago and almost never used, and left the apartment. My nerves grew with every step. In the elevator, | caught myself checking my reflection in the polished metal doors, adjusting the loose, softly wavy hair I'd decided to wear down. In the garage, | had to remind myself not to take my main car.

Dante had been very clear about that yesterday. | chose the smallest, most discreet of the three | owned, the same one I'd used to drive to the inn. During the short drive to the café Dante had shown me the day before, my stomach flipped nonstop. My hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. My heart raced far more than it should have for something as simple as meeting someone for coffee. But it wasn't simple, was it? Because it was Nick.

morning, most people already at work. Just a few retirees and maybe a student or two scattered at the tables. And there he was. Nick was sitting at one of the tables near the window, looking at his phone. He was wearing jeans too, but his were clearly years old, faded in places, and a blue flannel shirt over a white T-shirt. When

only did that with those they felt close to. With casual acquaintances or in professional settings, they preferred a handshake. The two kisses were reserved for friends, family, people who mattered. Which meant Nick was setting the tone. Making it clear he didn't want things

stepped back. "Thank you," | replied, feeling my cheeks warm. "You look good too.' We sat down, and Nick immediately picked up the small menu on the table. "Can | get you something?" he offered. "Or would you rather go up to the counter yourself?" "You can order," | said, remembering Dante's warning. Let him pay. Let him be the gentleman. "A cappuccino with cinnamon and a pinch of

two cappuccinos, two filled croissants, and what looked like a

hands wrapped around his own cup, "how are you? Really. Did you do all the tests the doctor recommended? Are you still having headaches or dizziness?" His tone was genuinely concerned, his green eyes scanning my face as if searching