Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 312 Nathaniel's POV With hands that were slightly shaking, I turned my phone screen toward Tori, showing her the message I'd just received. A single word glowed in the chat with Annie, sent just seconds earlier. "Artichoke," I said flatly, watching my sister's confused expression. "What?" Tori blinked a few times, clearly not understanding the significance. "Do you remember that day at the pizzeria in Bath?" I said quickly, my mind already racing. "When Oliver mentioned my favorite pizza?

We joked afterward that it would be our safe word." Tori's expression shifted slowly, from confusion to something closer to disbelief... and disgust. "Ew. She wants you to... be involved?" she asked, grimacing. "Damn it, Tori!" I snapped, my patience finally shattering. "Not like that! Annie is in danger. She would never send that word for any other reason." I was already moving fast toward the hotel reception desk, my thoughts spinning through possibilities, every single one worse than the last.

Tori hurried after me, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble as she struggled to keep up. The images I'd seen earlier were still burned into my mind, but now they looked completely different. If Annie had used our safe word, then something was very, very wrong. Those photos didn't show betrayal. They showed a dangerous situation, possibly a criminal one. I reached the front desk and immediately pulled up a photo of Annie on my phone. It was one we'd taken in Bath. She was smiling, her hair loose, wearing the blue sweater she loved.

need to know what room she's in. This is urgent.' 11 The receptionist studied the photo, her brow furrowing slightly. "Sir, the hotel is extremely full because of the New Year's party. We have hundreds of guests

share private information about our guests," the receptionist replied automatically, clearly reciting hotel policy. "It's against our rules to disclose-" I was already scrolling through my phone before she finished. I found the contact I

Like this 1/3 hotel. You know who she is, I assume. Either you tell me which room Alexandra Kensington is in, or I call Kara right now. And trust me, if I know Kara even half as well as I

this wasn't any other situation. The receptionist looked visibly torn, her eyes darting nervously between me and the phone screen. She obviously knew exactly who Kara Rosemont was. She was the heir to the