Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 525 Nicholas' POV I placed my hand at the base of Miss Parker's waist, feeling the soft fabric of her coat beneath my fingers. The touch was more intimate than I would normally dare with a stranger, but we needed to sell the lie we'd just created. Gwen stiffened slightly under my hand momentarily before relaxing and allowing herself to be guided toward the clinic door. "I'll take care of her, Dr. Marshall," I said, keeping my voice steady as I signed the discharge papers he handed me. "I'll follow all the instructions.

If she shows any worrying symptoms, I'll bring her back immediately." "Good, Nick," the doctor said, handing me a printed sheet with post-head injury instructions and a prescription. "Keep her under observation for the next twenty-four hours. No intense physical activity, avoid screens for long periods, and if she vomits, expériences blurred vision, or becomes excessively drowsy, call me right away." I nodded, folded the papers, and slipped them into my back pocket. My hand was still at Gwen's waist, and I could feel the warmth of her body through the layers of clothing.

Something about it felt... wrong. Not morally wrong, but out of place. Like wearing someone else's clothes. We walked down the narrow hallway of the small clinic-if it could even be called a clinic. It was more of a private practice Dr. Marshall kept to serve the residents of Montelira and the surrounding rural estates. The town was far too small for a real hospital; serious cases were sent to Stonebridge. The cold afternoon air hit us the moment we stepped outside. Gwen shivered beside me and pulled her coat tighter around herself.

I guided her toward my truck-a well-worn white Ram ProMaster, its dents telling stories of years spent hauling wine crates, equipment, and the occasional stubborn goat that had escaped from a neighboring pasture. I opened the passenger door for her, and Gwen looked at the interior with an expression I couldn't quite read. Hesitation? Disapproval? Confusion? She climbed in carefully, using the handle above the door to steady herself. I closed the door gently and walked around, snow crunching beneath my boots. When I slid into the driver's seat, the space felt smaller.

match who she claimed to be. I started the engine and cranked the heater up to full blast, "Are you really

rolled her eyes-a gesture so natural and expressive that for a second she seemed perfectly fine. Then she turned toward the dashboard and started fiddling with the

mind wouldn't slow down. What the hell did I just do? I had told Dr. Marshall that woman was my fiancée. The words sounded strange even inside my own head. I didn't have a

I should've thrown down more salt. Put out non-slip mats. Done something. So when she said I was her fiancé, I understood what she was doing. She was smart. She knew the doctor wouldn't release her without a responsible companion, so she invented one on the spot. I could've denied it-but after the

of music do I even like?" she whispered, her voice thick with genuine confusion. My stomach dropped. She was far more disoriented than she'd seemed back at the clinic. Maybe I'd just stepped into something much bigger than I'd intended, I thought, tightening my grip on the wheel. 2/4 Suddenly, Gwen

music from?" She paused, listening closely. "Why do I understand it?" I glanced at her, then back to the road. "It's Maravinese. Verdanian music." "Verdanian..." she repeated, like she was testing the word. "Do I speak Maravinese?" "Apparently," I said, genuinely curious now. "You understand

Worked on campaigns for small businesses in Castoria and now looking for new clients to build an independent portfolio." It was exactly what she'd said at the clinic, like a recording replaying. "Okay," I said slowly. "Valentian, then." The estate came into view, the lights of the main