Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 444 Marcus' POV I woke up before Madeline, which had become a habit over the past few days. The mountain morning was utterly silent, broken only by distant birds and the low crackle of dying embers in the fireplace. She was curled against my chest, one hand resting on my skin, breathing with the calm steadiness of someone who had slept deeply. I stayed there for a few minutes, just watching her sleep, replaying everything that had happened the night before. There was something different between us now, something in the air.

An intimacy that went beyond the physical, although that part had been... intense. It felt like an invisible barrier had finally fallen. Carefully, so I wouldn't wake her, I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. The hot shower was invigorating after the long night, and I dressed quietly, already knowing I wanted to do something special for her. I stepped outside into the crisp morning air and headed to the main dining hall. The staff was already preparing breakfast, and I managed to convince one of them to let me put together a special tray.

Strong coffee, fresh fruit, still-warm bread, homemade jams, and a few local specialties I knew she loved. When I returned to the cabin, Madeline was still asleep in the same position, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her face relaxed and peaceful. I carefully set the tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, gently touching her shoulder. "Good morning," I murmured as she started to stir. Madeline stretched, her eyes still heavy with sleep but sparkling in a way that made my heart speed up. "Good morning," she replied, her voice rough with sleep.

"You're already dressed?" "I went to get breakfast," I said, gesturing toward the tray. "I figured you might want to eat here, without rushing." She sat up, adjusting the pillows behind her back, and I noticed how the sheet slipped just enough to reveal the delicate curve of her shoulder. It was hard not to get distracted by those small glimpses of her skin. "You went all the way to the dining hall?" she asked, picking up a cup of coffee and breathing in the aroma with satisfaction.

a genuine, relaxed sound that made me smile. "I don't want privileges," she protested. "I can do the same things as everyone else. Except the really extreme ones, obviously." "Too late," I said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm going to spoil you, and you're just going to have to deal with it." "Marcus..." she started, but I cut

in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and I watched the subtle emotions cross her face. Pleasure at the food. Contentment in the intimacy of the moment. And something else, more thoughtful. "Can I ask you something?" she said

about where she was going with it. She hesitated, clearly embarrassed, but went on anyway. "I mean... up until now, we hadn't really consummated the marriage. And now..." I understood

about alignment. About it being official. She hadn't mentioned love. Or

company, her intelligence, the way she'd stood up to Vivian yesterday. I admired her strength and determination. But was it love? Or were we simply being pulled together by circumstance, creating an intimacy born from necessity and proximity? When I asked her to marry me, it had been a protective impulse. A reaction to her vulnerability and my own promise not to let a chance slip by when it appeared. But had that turned into something deeper? Or were we still just playing the roles the situation