All Chapters of Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Chapter 311 - Chapter 320

The first thing I registered as I started to come back to consciousness was the crushing headache, like someone was repeatedly hammering the inside of my skull. Then came the dizziness. It was a sickening, rolling sensation, as if the world were spinning in slow, uneven circles, paired with a desperate urge to vomit that intensified every time I tried to move even slightly.I tried to orient myself, blinking several times to focus my vision, which felt blurry around the edges. Where was I? The last clear memory I had was being at the Rosemont party, talking to Tori, feeling progressively worse… and then nothing. A complete blank. The gap in my memory scared me almost as much as my physical condition. I slowly looked around, every movement of my head sending fresh waves of pain through my skull. I was in a room. A hotel room, from what I could make out through my hazy vision. The curtains were closed, blocking out any natural light that might've helped me tell what time it was. A sin

Nathaniel's POV The scene that unfolded when we entered the bedroom was something I'd carry with me for the rest of my life. A man was on top of Annie, forcing himself on her while she tried to fight him off with weak, uncoordinated movements. It was obvious she was under the influence of something. Her reactions were slow and her strength was limited, but she was still fighting with everything she had left. What I felt in that moment went far beyond anger. It was something primal and overwhelming, a raw fury that swallowed me whole and wiped out any trace of rational thought. I didn't hesitate. I didn't think. I lunged at him like a wounded animal protecting its mate, grabbing him by the shoulders with a strength I didn't know I possessed and ripping him off Annie. He hit the floor hard, the sound echoing through the room, his eyes wide with shock. Before he could react or even try to get up, my fist connected with his face with everything I had. The impact was brutal. I f

Nathaniel's POV I went upstairs carrying a tray with light sandwiches, a bottle of cold water, and fresh juice. I'd kept it simple with whole-grain bread with turkey, mild cheese, a few crackers. Nothing that might upset Annie's stomach while she was still recovering from whatever had been slipped into her drink. I found her sitting up in bed, wearing one of my T-shirts that was far too big on her, and a pair of pajama pants I'd lent her. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she looked calmer, though I could still see the leftover tension in her shoulders and the faintly unfocused look in her eyes. "How are you feeling?" I asked softly, setting the tray on the nightstand and sitting beside her, careful and slow. "Better," Annie said, taking one of the sandwiches and biting into it. "Thank you for this." I kept my voice low and my movements deliberate, predictable, like I was around a wounded bird that might startle at anything sudden. I wanted her to feel completely s

Before either of us could move toward the door, Tori sprinted through the kitchen, calling out cheerfully, "I've got it! Family backup!" Nate and I exchanged confused looks, but the sound of familiar voices and laughter drifting in from the entryway quickly cleared things up. A few minutes later, Oliver and Sarah appeared in the kitchen, beaming and carrying a pizza box that had very clearly survived a long journey. "Surprise!" Oliver announced, setting the boxes down on the counter. "We brought cold artichoke and Sicilian lemon pizza. Courtesy of a three-hour drive from Bath." Sarah laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair back into her ponytail. "Sorry about the state of it. We thought bringing Nate's favorite was a great idea. We did not factor in London traffic." "How did you—?" I started, but Tori popped up behind them, looking a little guilty. "I called them," she admitted, fidgeting with her hands. "I figured you two could use a good distraction. And family always hel

Nathaniel's POV The winter garden in my house was my favorite refuge during London's colder months. The glass walls offered a stunning view of the outside garden, even when the weather didn't allow us to actually enjoy it. That night, the soft lighting created an intimate, welcoming atmosphere, a sharp contrast to the lively laughter drifting in from the main living room where everyone else had gathered. Christian and I had naturally drifted away from the group, wine glasses in hand, looking for a quiet moment to talk. It was rare for us to spend time together simply as friends, without the weight of professional responsibilities that usually shaped our interactions. I settled into one of the comfortable wicker chairs, watching as Christian took a seat across from me at the small coffee table where he set down his glass. For a few minutes, we sat in companionable silence, enjoying the calm and the muted hum of conversation coming from inside the house. "When you think back to o