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 experience living in London. Talking to him was surprisingly refreshing. There were no hidden motives, bold comments, or personal questions disguised

never have had anywhere else." "The wine industry is fascinating," Henry agreed. We were in the middle of discussing cultural differences between Verdania and Franconia when Gwen's phone rang. Or at least, that was what she made it look like. "Oh, sorry." She glanced at the screen like she'd been waiting all day for

into a dramatic mask of concern. "Sorry, but I have to go back immediately." She grabbed her bag with theatrical urgency. "Serious issue with the documents from this morning. You two finish lunch, please." "Gwen, I can go with you-" I started. She cut me off. "No, no! Relax and enjoy your lunch. Henry can keep

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 he mentioned casually that he'd be at the Kensington party on Friday. "Kensington always hosts excellent events," he said. "Though

sure you know more people than you think," I replied lightly. "Perhaps." He smiled. "But it would certainly be more pleasant with someone as charming as you by my side." I didn't give him a direct answer, but I didn't shut it down either. There was something about Henry that put

on my way," he said. I doubted that. But he made the lie sound sweet. On the walk, he made subtle observations about how rare it was to meet someone who balanced professional competence with such natural grace.