Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 300 I said goodbye to my sister and set my phone carefully back on the little side table, sinking deeper into the warm, perfumed water. Steam drifted around me in soft curls, the whole room wrapped in that dreamy, fragrant haze that made me feel like I was floating on a scented cloud. From somewhere in the kitchen, I could faintly hear sounds-Nate, probably putting together our improvised meal, arranging everything with the same quiet attention to detail he always had.

Minutes slipped by peacefully, marked only by the soft whir of the hydromassage jets and the distant hum of London below. But slowly, I started to register something: he was taking longer than usual. My original plan for this bath-well, the bath had only been phase one of a very specific sequence I'd carefully crafted in my head. The idea was: relax in the tub while he finished up in the kitchen... then have a much more physical, deliciously intimate "workout" once he joined me.

Except an absolutely crucial part of this carefully curated plan was missing: the gorgeous Englishman who was supposed to be joining me any minute. And now the water was starting to cool just enough to lose that perfect melt-into-it temperature. Plus, honestly, as luxurious as this bath was, I preferred his company to being alone. I rose slowly from the tub, water streaming down my body as I reached for the soft, ridiculously expensive towel Nate always kept warming on the heated rack.

bedroom, feeling the cold marble floor give way to the plush rug spread over the polished wood. I found Nate in the room, standing near the king-size bed, holding his phone like it was a bomb about to go off. Something in his posture stopped me

I called softly, taking a cautious step toward him. "Are you okay?" He looked frozen, staring at the phone screen like he'd seen a ghost or read the worst possible news.

real fear, and a resigned kind of determination that terrified me more than any words could have. Without

confession, of a truth about to be exposed. My feet moved before my mind caught up, carrying me back toward the bathroom with each step echoing far too 1/2 loudly in the suffocating silence that had settled between us like a heavy curtain. I picked up my phone with hands that had started to shake, though I didn't fully understand why yet. A cold premonition was

connection with someone I thought was a mysterious, poetic stranger. My last message was still there on the screen, staring back at me-the one I'd sent during our stay in Bath, when all those little coincidences had finally become impossible to ignore. [Tenth question: is your name Nathaniel Carter?] And right below it,