Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 195 I'd just started to relax again, lulled by Nathaniel's calm voice and the easy rhythm of our conversation, when the plane suddenly jolted harder than before. My stomach dropped as if we'd fallen several hundred meters in an instant. Whatever false sense of security I'd built evaporated immediately. "I don't want to die!" I blurted, clutching Nathaniel's arm for dear life. And okay, I couldn't help noticing that I'd been right about the muscles. "You're not going to die," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "How can you possibly know that?" I whimpered.

"I have an extremely important business meeting next week," he said, completely serious. "So I'm not planning to die on this plane. Which means, by extension, you can't die either. See that woman over there?" He nodded toward a couple sitting diagonally from us. "She told her husband when we boarded that she's pregnant with twins. They're not allowed to die either." "Oh, great," I said, breathing hard but managing a shaky laugh. "Good to know you've got direct influence over who lives and dies around here." I took another slow breath-inhale, exhale. No panic.

I let go of his arm and tried to settle back into my seat. Maybe he was right; talking was a distraction. "So, what do you do? Besides acting as God's assistant?" 11 He laughed, studying me for a moment before answering. "Nothing you'd find interesting.' Which could only mean one thing: boring. Probably some stiff, overly polished job. Only someone with a painfully dull profession would spend eleven hours in a suit on a long-haul flight. At least he'd die looking good. I'd die in fluffy slippers with airplane hair. "Do you have kids?" I asked suddenly.

"I never really thought about it until my sister had my nephew, Matt. He's ... perfect. And now I'm going to die without ever hearing a baby call me Mom." "How many?" "What?" "Kids. How many do

for the right opportunity. And when I finally got this chance to move to London, to work for a real company, to prove myself-" "I don't-" "I know I can be good at it!" I cut him off, my voice rising as adrenaline and fear twisted together. "I understand business. I understand people. And I definitely understand wine. My sister and I used to sneak bottles from my dad's cellar when we were fifteen! So honestly, it makes perfect sense she married Christian...and when they finally decide to send me here, to train for real... I'm going to die!" "You're-uh-it's a little hard to keep up," he said, clearly trying not

not going to-" "Did you know I've never had a serious boyfriend?" I interrupted again, words spilling out in a panicked rush. " Never had a real relationship! I always ended up with guys who thought I was just a good time, never someone they'd actually want to build a life with. And now here I am, flying to London, and I'm going to die before I ever meet

just as someone's temporary distraction.". At that moment, the plane jolted so violently I was sure it was the end. The lights flickered, luggage rattled in the overhead bins, and a metallic groan echoed through the

panic mode. "You know what? Forget everything I said!" I burst out, my voice louder than I meant. "If this is my last day alive, I just want to have sex with someone who actually cares about making me come. God, it's been months since I've slept

suite," he said, his voice smooth and mischievous, mean, but at least we're in business class." "1 And then he actually stood up. Unbuckled, straightened his tie, and started walking toward the lavatory like it was the most natural thing in the world. Was this