All Chapters of Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

My feet carried me away from the terrace before I even realized what I was doing. Away from the stunned stares and the heavy silence Alexandra had left behind like a grenade. I found a side staircase at the back of the mansion that led down to the garden. A quiet corner far from the noise and the people. I sat on the cold marble step, the chill of the stone cutting through the heat of humiliation still burning in my face. Tears threatened, but I forced them back. I wasn't giving Alexandra that satisfaction. I drew a slow breath and tried to steady the tremor in my hands, the tight ache in my chest from a mix of shame and anger. "Annie!" Zoey's voice echoed down the hallway. Worried. Determined. I heard her heels tapping against the marble as she searched for me. "Annie, where are you?" "Here," I answered, my voice thinner than I meant. A few seconds later she appeared, her dress brushing around her legs as she moved toward me. The look on her face told me she wasn't just wo

Zoey and I walked back into the party with steady steps. Our arms were linked, a quiet show of solidarity that gave me strength with every stride. "You sure you're okay?" Zoey whispered, her fingers tightening around my arm in a soft, protective squeeze. "I'm okay," I said, managing a small smile. That was when Henry appeared. He stepped out from a small group near the main staircase and headed toward us with that natural elegance he carried so effortlessly. His expression held a hint of worry, the kind that came from genuine concern, not social curiosity. "Annabelle," he said as he reached us, his voice calm and polite in the way I'd come to expect from him. "May I speak with you in private for a moment?" Zoey picked up the cue instantly. "I'll go find Christian," she murmured, giving my arm another supportive squeeze. "See you in a minute, okay?" "Yeah," I said, watching her disappear into the crowd. Henry waited patiently until we were standing in a more discreet cor

The party carried on after Christian and the COOs finished speaking. The lights returned to their usual glow, conversations loosened again, and the soft clinking of champagne glasses filled the air. I tried more than once to find a moment to talk to Nate. It felt like the universe had decided that any chance of a private conversation between us needed to be blocked at all costs. Every time I thought I had a window, something happened. The first time, when I spotted him stepping away from a group near the bar, an important Eisenwald investor swooped in with a pack of executives trailing behind him. Nate shifted into that polished professional mode I knew so well, and all I could do was stand there with my wine glass, watching him disappear into business talk. The second time, when I finally saw him alone near the main balcony, Zoey materialized out of thin air and latched onto my arm. "Annie, come on! There are some people Christian wants you to meet," she said as she dragged me

Nathaniel's POV I stared at my phone screen for the tenth time in the last five minutes, rereading Annie's message. Sunday morning light drifted through my apartment window, but I could barely focus on anything except the words glowing back at me. I'd reinstalled the app after accidentally overhearing Annie confess to Zoey that she'd started using it again to talk to me. Or... the other me. The conversation had happened in the corner of the apartment, but I was close enough to catch a few key words. Once I realized she'd re-downloaded the app specifically to find me, I couldn't help it. I downloaded it again and found the message waiting. Annie: [Probably someone who challenges me. Or maybe I just like messing up my own life, because that's what you do. You show up and my mind turns into complete chaos, and I don't know why. For a few minutes, I can even forget about him... and that should be good, but it also scares me. I should delete this app again, but instead I'm here, drunk

Nate's office was quiet except for the soft tapping of keys and the distant hum of activity outside. We'd been working for almost two hours, reviewing a crucial project for next week's investor meeting. The focus it required should've kept everything clean and professional. It should have. But the air between us carried a tension neither of us acknowledged. It felt like the Kensington party had sparked an invisible current, turning every accidental glance, every time our hands almost brushed while passing documents, into something heavy with meaning. The glass walls didn't help. I could see people walking through the hallway, some sneaking curious looks our way as if trying to figure out what was happening in here. Ever since the party, it felt like the whole office had gone back to watching me with thinly veiled interest. Like I was some exhibit at a zoo. "The third-quarter numbers need adjusting here," I murmured, pointing at a section of the spreadsheet and trying to keep my