Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 527 Nicholas' POV I went down the stairs with heavy steps, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. On Gwen's fragile body, unconscious in my arms. On how surprisingly light she'd felt when I carried her to the truck, like she was made of something too delicate for this world. On those intense blue eyes staring up at me with a mix of confusion and certainty that made no sense at all. On her long legs slipping off the gurney when I tried to help her get settled. And the kiss. Shit. The kiss. It hadn't been that kind of kiss. The kind that steals your breath and makes the world stop.

It had been almost a peck. Quick. Chaste. Innocent. Her lips had touched mine for no more than two seconds before Bella appeared in the doorway. If my daughter hadn't shown up and interrupted us... I shook my head hard, pushing the thought away. Of course I would have done the same thing. Pulled back. Explained. Set boundaries. I wasn't the kind of man who took advantage of a confused, vulnerable woman who'd just hit her head. But the memory of her soft lips against mine refused to leave. 'Focus, Nicholas. She's a guest.

A temporarily confused guest who'll be gone in a few days.' I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left, following the hallway toward the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread hit me before I even pushed the door open. Rosemary. Olive oil. That perfect golden crust only my mother ever managed to get just right. The kitchen was the heart of the property. Big and warm, with marble countertops worn smooth by time, copper pots hanging on the walls, and a massive stone fireplace that kept the space cozy even on the coldest winter days.

Bella was perched on the tall stool by the central island, swinging her legs, flour on her nose and a grin stretched from ear to ear. And my mother. Martina Valemont. Sixty-two years old and pure energy. She was pulling the last batch of bread from the pan, wearing the floral oven mitts I'd given her. "So, you're engaged to the new guest, Nick?" she fired off without even looking at me, though I could hear the barely contained laughter in her voice.

as I walked over to the basket of still-warm bread on the counter. I grabbed one, lightly burning my fingertips, and tore it

her legs and tilted her head to the side, messy curls falling over one shoulder. "Is the lady crazy?" she asked, with the brutal honesty only kids have. I laughed again, softer this time, and stepped closer to run a gentle hand over her head. "No, sweetheart. She's just... hurt. And Daddy's taking care of her."

eyebrows lifting so high they nearly disappeared into the gray hair twisted into a loose bun. I felt my face heat up. Great. I'm blushing. At thirty-three years old, I'm blushing like a teenager caught doing something stupid. "I'm just following medical advice," I muttered, grabbing another piece of bread and shoving

you're making excuses. The girl is beautiful. I saw her..." "I'm not making anything up," I argued, though even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded. "Dr.

of woman who would have a lawyer ready to sue us if she wanted to. So let's just... keep things friendly. It's only a few days. That's