Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 139 The smell of grilled meat in my parents' backyard took me straight back to childhood-those Sundays that were practically sacred, filled with family chatter and my dad's famous barbecue. Today was no different, except now Christian was sitting in one of those old plastic chairs by the grill, listening intently to my dad's stories. It was almost funny seeing him there-this man who usually moved through black-tie events and five-star restaurants-so completely at ease in our modest backyard. Polo shirt, jeans, a beer in hand. He looked like he'd been born for it.

My dad had insisted Christian stay close to the grill to "supervise," which, of course, meant being bombarded with anecdotes and unsolicited advice about seasoning. "Zoey," my mom called from the kitchen doorway, carrying a tray of salads, "your pregnant-lady food is ready. And before you ask, yes, I washed everything three times." I smiled, taking the tray from her. Ever since we'd told my parents about the pregnancy, my mom had somehow managed to become even more protective than usual-something I didn't think was possible.

"Christian," I called, walking toward the grill, "come have some salad. "Zoey, the man's on barbecue duty," my dad protested, flipping a cut of picanha. "Can't abandon his post now." "Roberto," my mom scolded, "let the poor boy eat properly. He's still recovering from an accident." Christian stood and brushed his hands off before leaning in to kiss my cheek and taking the plate I offered. "Actually, I'm really enjoying learning your dad's barbecue secrets," he said, earning a proud grin from my father.

"But Zoey's right, I need to eat well if I'm going to take care of her and the baby." My heart swelled at how naturally he said it-our baby. Ever since the ultrasound, he'd been even more attentive, if that was even possible. "Go easy on the meat," I warned when he came back a few minutes later, pláte already empty. "Remember what the doctor said about moderation." "Zoey," Annabelle said, appearing beside me with a laugh, "you're gonna starve the poor man. He's huge, he needs protein." "Thank you, Annie," Christian said with a grin.

"Finally, someone with common sense." "The problem isn't the meat," I said, smiling despite myself. "It's the fat." "The fat's the best part," Matthew chimed in, snatching an especially juicy piece from the grill. "You can't waste it. That's a crime against barbecue." The afternoon slipped by in easy laughter and overlapping conversations, that familiar feeling of home wrapping around me. Christian fit right in, helping my mom carry dishes in from the kitchen and trading jokes with my dad like they'd known each other for years.

me," Annie whispered after lunch, once the guys had drifted into a heated debate about soccer and Mom was cleaning up the plates. I followed her into what used to be our shared bedroom. It was hers now, but traces of our teenage

leaning back on my elbows. "By the way, why didn't you invite Marcus today?" Annie's expression shifted slightly, her smile faltering. "I didn't want to bring Marcus into the family stuff

and I had met. "What do you mean, Annie?" "You know," she said, waving a hand vaguely, "someone like Christian. The kind of person who looks all wrong on paper but ends up fighting to be right. Someone who'll surprise me the way he surprised you." I frowned slightly, trying to figure out exactly where she was going with this.

amazing, don't get me wrong. He's funny, kind, he treats me well. But sometimes it feels like we're just having fun, you know? Like we're two friends who hang out and sleep together. And it's not like he's trying to change that." "Have you talked to him about it?" "How do you talk about something you don't even fully understand yourself?" she said with a humorless laugh. "I

for love. You don't have to find your own 'gigolo' just because I found mine." "I know," she said quickly. "That's not it. It's just... seeing you guys makes me realize I want something

spoils this baby rotten. I'll teach them every trick your mom bans you from trying." "Annie," I started, but she was already crouching a little, talking to my belly. "And I'll

+25 Bonus I'll be the favorite aunt." "Well,