Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 421 Marcus' POV "I'll help you with the pasta," I offered, taking off my coat and rolling up the sleeves of my shirt while Madeline arranged the ingredients on the kitchen counter. "That would be great," she said, but there was something different in her voice. Something I couldn't quite identify. We started working side by side. I measured the flour while she cracked the eggs. It was a simple, domestic routine. Something that should have felt completely normal. But almost immediately, I noticed Madeline was acting... strange. First, she dropped an egg on the floor.

When she bent down to clean it up, she stayed in that position far longer than necessary, in a way that emphasized the curves of her body. When she straightened up, we were suddenly very close, and she lingered there a few seconds before stepping away. "Sorry," she murmured, though she didn't look sorry at all. We kept working, and the little "accidents" kept happening. Madeline brushed against me several times while reaching for ingredients. She asked for my help grabbing a bowl from a shelf she could have easily reached on her own, positioning herself so I had to lean over her.

When she mixed the dough, her movements were unnecessarily slow and fluid. "It's hot in here, don't you think?" she said, sliding a hand along her neck in a deliberately unhurried motion. I glanced around the kitchen, which felt perfectly normal for a winter day. "A little," I answered absently, focused on kneading the dough. She let out a soft sigh, one that seemed to carry far more meaning than the moment required. When I turned to grab the rolling pin, I caught her watching me with an intensity that made me frown. "Everything okay?" I asked. "You're acting kind of...

searched for the right word. "Energetic?" She laughed, but there was a hint of frustration in the sound. "Energetic," she repeated, as if the word completely missed the point. We kept working, and her strange behavior only escalated. She licked

to think about. It was impossible not to notice. Of course it was. But Madeline and I hadn't crossed that line since the Maldives. Since Apollo and Aphrodite. So I did my best not to read too much into it, because

index finger into the sauce and holding it out to me. The gesture was unmistakably suggestive, yet somehow my brain still refused to fully catch up. I tasted the sauce from her finger, acutely aware of how closely she was watching my mouth. "It's perfect," I said. She smiled. And that smile had nothing to do with seasoning. That was when it happened. The most obvious "accident" of all. As she stirred the sauce, somehow a generous splash of tomato landed directly on the white

and took it off completely, standing there in the middle of the kitchen wearing nothing but jeans and a black lace bra. That was the exact moment it finally clicked. Madeline

this much of an idiot?" Her expression changed instantly. The sensual smile vanished, replaced by pure mortification. Her eyes filled with tears so fast it startled me. "I know my body is changing because of the pregnancy," she said, her voice trembling, "but I didn't think I looked that ridiculous. You didn't have to laugh in my face." "What?" I asked, completely confused. "Madeline, that's not-" But she was already crying, covering her face with her hands.