Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 214 Saturday mornings in London had a kind of magic. The frantic pace of the week softened into something calmer. People wandered the streets without rushing, couples sipped coffee at sidewalk tables despite the cold, and the whole city felt like it had nowhere urgent to be. I decided it was the perfect day to finally visit the famous Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill. Gwen had insisted I needed to go, especially to the antiques section.

According to her, it was "a hidden treasure where you can find anything from rare records to vintage jewelry." I took the tube to Notting Hill Gate and walked through the residential streets until I reached Portobello Road Market. The market was in full swing, with hundreds of stalls stretching down the street. They sold everything from antiques and used books to vintage clothing and handmade crafts. The smell of street food mixed with the familiar scent of old books and incense. It was exactly what I imagined a London market would be. Chaotic, colorful, and completely captivating.

I spent the first hour just wandering and taking it all in, amazed by the sheer variety. One stall was dedicated entirely to vintage hats, another sold old maps of London, and a third displayed an impressive collection of old cameras. It was at a record stall that something caught my eye. Among the hundreds of LPs stacked in wooden crates, I found a copy of the Beatles' "Abbey Road" in immaculate condition. I had always been a Beatles fan.

My dad played their songs all the time when I was a kid, and some of my best memories were Sunday mornings listening to "Here Comes the Sun" while my mom made breakfast. "How much is this?" I asked the vendor, a man in his forties with round glasses and a big beard. He looked at me, then at the record, then back at me, clearly sizing me up. "For you, darling, 150 dollars," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 150 dollars? Even if I wasn't a record expert, that felt steep. "For that price it better come with a Paul McCartney concert. Can't you do better?

I'm a student," I tried, even though that part wasn't true. Desperate times. "One fifty is the best I can do. It's a special edition." I was about to give up when I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Tommy, are you trying to scam tourists again?" I turned, and there was Nate, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. He looked nothing like the suited executive I knew. He looked younger, more relaxed, and definitely more... approachable. "Nate!" Tommy exclaimed, his face lighting up. "My friend!

I didn't know you two knew each other." "We work together," Nate said as he stepped closer to the stall. "And she's not a tourist, Tommy. She's Verdanian, but she lives here now." "Ah, Verdanian!" Tommy grinned for real this time. "Why didn't you say so? I love Verdanians. My ex-wife was from Solara." 1/3 "Really?" I managed to say, still processing the fact that Nate was standing there. "Yeah. Stubbornest woman I ever met, but she made the best beef and bean stew in London." Tommy laughed, then looked at the record in my hands. "This Abbey Road...

for family friends, 120 pounds." "Tommy," Nate said, picking up the record and checking it, "if she goes to your shop in Camden during the week, you'll do it for ninety." "Ninety?" Tommy pretended to be offended. "You're bankrupting me, Nate. But fine, ninety dollars. Only because she's your friend." "Thank you," I said, still a little thrown by the whole exchange. "But you don't have to..." "She does," Nate cut in. "Tommy likes to bump up the price when he feels like it." "It's dynamic marketing," Tommy corrected with a laugh.

his jacket pockets. "I hunt for rare records, mostly. Tommy's one of my most reliable sources."

eyes went wide. "Seriously?" "More or less. I lost count after nine hundred." We walked slowly through the market, and I realized how different he seemed outside the office. There was a softness to him here, a relaxed way of moving and talking that I'd never noticed. "And you?" he asked. "Beatles is your thing?" "My dad raised me on Beatles. I bought this as a gift for him," I said, hugging the record to my chest. "Sunday

of my favorite childhood memories." "'Here Comes the Sun' is one of the best," Nate agreed. "George Harrison was underrated as a songwriter." "Exactly. Everyone focuses on Lennon and McCartney, but Harrison had such a distinct sensitivity." "You know 'Something'? Also his." course. Frank Sinatra said it was the greatest love song ever written." Nate looked at me like he wasn't expecting that. "Not many people

together for months and I had no idea you were into music like this." "True,"

between friends." "Maybe we should fix that," I said, aiming for casual. "How about grabbing a coffee sometime? Not a meeting or a work dinner. Just... coffee. To get to know each other better as people." Nate looked at me for a few seconds, like he was weighing something important. "I'd like that," he said at last. "A lot, actually." "Great." I smiled, warmth blooming

Talking about the Beatles and finding things in common felt like building a new bridge, something more solid than the physical pull that was clearly there. "Hey, Nate?" I said when we reached the end of the antiques section. "Yeah?" "Tha For helping me with Tommy, I mean." aid with a small smile. "That's what

someone I already liked. 日 Comments U Support Share 3/3 hapter 2:5

I added, heading to my desk without offering more details. That was when I saw the two elegant packages were neatly placed beside my keyboard. One was slim, wrapped

shakding slightly. The handwriting was masculine and refined. "For the woman who brings the sum aurywhere she goes. N." 4 smile spread across my face before

read Imported from Japan, Limited Edition 1969, Apple Records." "Oh my God." I whispered, mumming the record slowly in my hands. This was exactly the kind of rare item colectors spent fortunes on. The second box took my breath away. Nestled in the navy velvet was a delicate white-gold

to my desk with thinly disguised excrement Isshowed her the gits, still stunned and struggling to process everything "essis. Anne!" Gwen's eyes widened as she picked up the necklace gently. "This must have cost a fortune." We take about the Beatles on

to a child, "I don't know why you two Keep pretending's just inenasmp. This is not a friend gift." its. We're frenas," insisted, placing the necklace back in the box with absurd care. "Just friends who have meressing conversations about musse." "Annabele. Gwen Jeaned on the edge of my desk, slipping into the tone that meant a reality lesson was 1.3 coming. "Friends