All Chapters of Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Chapter 571 - Chapter 580

Gwen's POV The salon was calm for a Saturday morning. Nothing like those crowded, noisy places packed with people waiting their turn. This was the kind of establishment that required appointments booked weeks in advance, though not for a Kensington, of course. I was reclined in a plush chair, a heated cap over my hair while a treatment mask worked its restorative magic after the disaster of the night before. Mia was in the chair beside me, also waiting on her own treatment, scrolling through her feed with the kind of intense focus that meant gossip or serious stalking. The background music was soft, almost unnoticeable. Just the two of us and two other clients in the entire salon, each in a private station separated by elegant frosted-glass dividers. "So you gave up on going?" Mia asked suddenly, without looking up from her phone, as if we were mid-conversation when in reality we'd been silent for several minutes. "Of course I gave up," I replied, adjusting the soft towel aro

Gwen's POV When my apartment buzzer rang at ten Sunday morning, I'd already been ready for half an hour. I'd chosen my outfit carefully: beige tailored trousers, a white silk blouse, a structured blazer, and nude pumps. Casual but elegant. Perfect for a Sunday in Florentia. I opened the door and found Dante looking me up and down with an expression that clearly said I'd done something wrong. "Seriously?" was all he said. "What?" I asked, glancing down at my clothes. "Is it bad?" "Gwen, you're dressed for a board meeting," he said, walking in without waiting for an invitation. "Not to pretend you're a normal person going out for coffee with a guy." "I don't know how to dress like a normal person," I shot back, closing the door. "That's why I called you." Dante went straight to my closet, opening the doors like he owned the place. "My God," he muttered, staring at the perfectly organized rows of designer clothes. "Is there anything in here that costs less than five hundre

Gwen's POV "Business?" I repeated, lowering my cup slowly. "What kind of business?" Nick ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous. His gaze slipped away from mine for a moment, settling on the coffee cup in front of him as if the answers might be written at the bottom. "It's complicated," he began, his voice quieter now. "And honestly, I feel kind of… I don't know, like I'm taking advantage? Asking you here for this. But I didn't know who else to turn to, and you mentioned that you—" He stopped, took a deep breath, then started again. "We're in serious financial trouble at the villa," he said at last, the words coming faster now, like he needed to get them out before he lost his nerve. "Really serious." I stayed quiet, letting him continue. "There's a loan we took out a few years ago," he explained, still not quite meeting my eyes. "When my father died, he left… well, he left some debts behind. And the property needed urgent repairs. The roof was leaking, the plumbing

Gwen's POV The car climbed the winding road toward Valemont Estate, and with every curve my stomach tightened a little more. It wasn't travel nerves. It was anxiety over what I was about to do. Pretend to be something I wasn't. Lie to people who trusted me. Try to save a business without truly knowing how. I parked in the familiar courtyard and, before I could even turn off the engine, I heard a high-pitched shout. "Gwen!" Bella burst through the front door, her bare feet slapping against the ground, her dark hair flying behind her like a flag. She didn't even give me time to properly get out of the car before throwing herself into my arms. "Hi, my love," I said, hugging her tight, that familiar ache filling my chest the second I was close to her. "Did you miss me?" "So much," she mumbled against my neck, her little arms wrapped around me. "You took forever to come back." "I know, I'm sorry," I said, pulling back just enough to see her face. "But I'm here now." Nick a

Gwen's POV "The idea is simple," I began, looking at the three faces around the table. "We're changing the location of tomorrow night's dinner. Guests can be taken up in the tour truck or go by bike, whichever they prefer. No extra costs. The food stays exactly the same. Martina's amazing cooking. Just served somewhere different." We were sitting in the villa's kitchen, gathered around the large wooden table, steaming cups of tea in everyone's hands, the clock on the wall creeping toward ten p.m. Nick sat across from me, Martina to my right, Paula to my left. All of them watching me with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism. "And the guests are going to eat on the ground?" Paula asked, her voice heavy with doubt and irony. "Because I don't remember there being any tables up there." "We can improvise some tables using the wood and barrels you keep in the shed," I replied quickly. "But picnic-style setups with blankets are actually a great idea, Paula, thank you." I said