Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 237 "Want to grab lunch together today?" Gwen asked on Thursday, appearing at my desk with that determined energy I knew too well. "I need to de-stress and talk about the party before the office chaos swallows us." "Sure," I said, saving the document I was working on. "Where do you want to go?" "That little Franconian place on the corner, Le Petite Maison. It's perfect atmosphere for a girls' talk.' "1 I expected a quick, relaxing lunch. A small break from the growing frenzy around the Kensington party.

My mind was still a mess between whatever was happening with Nate and the ghost of Wanderer, so any distraction sounded perfect. The restaurant was warm and charming. Soft décor, low chatter, the kind of place that made even a simple salad feel glamorous. We sat by the window, watching people pass by as we talked. "So," Gwen said after we ordered. "How are you feeling about tomorrow? Excited to meet your mystery date?" "Honestly? Kind of nervous," I admitted. "Are you sure this is a good idea? After the last round of disasters..." "Trust me." Gwen leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.

"This one is different. Very different." We were knee-deep in talk about dresses and expectations when the bell over the door chimed. Someone stepped inside. Gwen glanced toward the entrance and lit up with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, Henry!" she exclaimed, waving. "What an incredible coincidence!" I turned and saw Henry Blackwell walking toward us in a perfect suit and that polite, charming smile I remembered from Kensington meetings. He looked genuinely surprised to see us. But the look on Gwen's face told me this "coincidence" was about as spontaneous as a board meeting.

"Ladies," Henry said as he reached the table. "What a pleasure to run into you. His eyes settled on me, and he gave a warm, courteous smile. || "It is wonderful to see you again, Annabelle. That presentation on the Verdanian market was unforgettable for the clarity you brought to the data. Very impressive." "Thank you," I said, feeling my cheeks warm at the compliment. "Henry, you can't have lunch alone," Gwen declared. "Join us. We were just talking about tomorrow's party." "I wouldn't want to intrude..." "You're not intruding," she insisted, practically shoving a chair out for him.

about my work and seemed genuinely curious about my experience living in London. Talking to him was surprisingly refreshing. There were no hidden motives, bold comments, or personal questions disguised as flirting. "And how have you been

when Gwen's phone rang. Or at least, that was what she made it look like. "Oh,

please." "Gwen, I can go with you-" I started. She cut me off. "No, no! Relax and enjoy your lunch. Henry can keep you company." She gave me a look so conspiratorial she might as well have winked.

I said. "Sometimes a little too much." "But in this case, I'm grateful for it." Henry's tone was gentle. "It's rare to chat without the pressure of meetings and contracts." Our conversation slid back into an easy rhythm. He talked about Franconia. About wanting to learn more about Verdania. And then

a subtle suggestion there, but he didn't push. It was exactly the kind of respectful approach I rarely encountered. "I'm sure you know more people than you think," I replied lightly. "Perhaps." He smiled. "But it would certainly be more

sweet. On the walk, he made subtle observations about how rare it was to meet someone who balanced professional competence with such natural grace. They weren't cheap lines or invasive remarks-they were elegant, sincere 2/4 compliments that made me feel seen. At the entrance,