Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 292 "Artichoke with Sicilian lemon?" I repeated, trying to sound casual while my mind raced to process the information. "That's a pretty... exotic flavor." Before I could say anything else about that unsettling coincidence, the waitress smiled and leaned slightly toward our table. "Oh, it's been one of our house specialties for years," she explained with clear pride. "People are skeptical the first time, but anyone who tries it never forgets it. It's a unique flavor... really memorable." "It's true," Sarah agreed, nodding emphatically.

"It's the kind of flavor you either absolutely love or absolutely `hate. No in-between. I've seen people make a face just hearing the description." "Only Nate loves it," Tori added in that slightly provocative tone I was beginning to recognize, taking a sip of her sparkling water. Nate laughed, but I caught something faintly nervous in his expression, like the sudden spotlight on his peculiar favorite was making him uncomfortable. His shoulders had a tension they didn't have minutes earlier. "If it were just me, it wouldn't be a house specialty," he said, trying to redirect the attention.

"Clearly other people appreciate bold culinary choices." As we debated the menu options, I chose a classic margherita, trying to keep things simple while my brain was in absolute turmoil. Oliver kept up the teasing, clearly delighted with the whole conversation. "Artichoke doesn't even sound like a real food," he said, laughing as he made an exaggerated face. "It sounds like... some secret code word for emergency.

'Houston, we have an artichoke!'" Nate laughed genuinely this time, turning toward me with that smile that usually made my stomach somersault, except now it carried an entirely different weight. "Then that'll be our word," he said, taking my hand across the table with that natural tenderness that usually unraveled me completely. "Gross," Tori cut in with her usual humor.

into lighter, teasing territory, with Oliver inventing increasingly outrageous scenarios in which we'd need to use our "artichoke safe word." Sarah added her own hilarious suggestions, and even Tori tossed in sarcastic comments that had everyone laughing harder. But I could barely follow the

a growing list that was starting to feel statistically impossible to ignore. The fact that Wanderer knew my full

Nate brought to my house "from the team," the exact same arrangement Wanderer had left on my desk. And now this. The same specific, unusual pizza flavor. The same very niche passion hardly anyone else shared. I tried to stay present, to pretend I was engaging in the friendly lunch chatter around me, but it felt like everything was happening behind a thick fog. The laughter sounded distant, voices muffled, like I was underwater struggling to reach the surface. "Annie?" Sarah's worried voice snapped me abruptly back

prayed looked convincing. "Just... trying to decide what to drink. So many options." When the pizzas finally arrived carried by the servers on trays that smelled absolutely heavenly, Nate lit

harmoniously with delicate curls of Sicilian