All Chapters of Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Friday morning dawned under a perfect blue sky, as if nature itself wanted to bless the arrival of the Bennett family at the Kensington estate. I watched from the bedroom window as their car climbed the winding road, my heart pounding with a mix of nerves and relief. After the chaotic week I'd had, seeing familiar faces was a comfort. Christian stood beside me at the main entrance, as elegant as ever, though the subtle tension in the way he kept adjusting his watch betrayed him. "Relax," I told him. "They don't bite." "Your father may not be too fond of me after last time..." I didn't have the chance to answer, because the car stopped and my family spilled out in a burst of energy. Annabelle was the first, practically leaping from the vehicle with an excited squeal, followed by my brother Matthew, who whistled appreciatively at the sight of the mansion. My parents came last — my mother nervously fixing her hair, my father wearing an expression that tried to look casual but coul

Breakfast at the Kensington mansion had an almost unreal air to it. The elegant morning dining room, with its wide windows allowing the sunlight to flood in, looked like something out of a design magazine. I tried to keep my composure as I watched Christian's mother, Isabelle Kensington, cut a slice of bread as if she were performing delicate surgery. She hadn't stopped talking since she'd come down for breakfast, her Valentian accent subtly emphasized whenever it suited her—especially when she spoke about the "importance of family traditions." Every word was carefully chosen, every gesture perfectly calculated. Unlike Joseph, whose nobility came from natural authenticity, Isabelle exuded a forced aristocracy, as if she constantly needed to remind everyone of her position. "It's a shame we only arrived yesterday," she remarked, looking straight at me. "We've had so little time to get to know our son's fiancée." "We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other after the weddin

The silence of the room clashed with the chaos inside my mind. The morning of the wedding had finally arrived, and I sat before the mirror, staring at my reflection as if she were a stranger. The white dress—the very one Christian had bought months ago—fell in soft waves around me, the delicate fabric catching the light that streamed in through the wide windows. "You look absolutely stunning!" my mother exclaimed as she walked in, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "My daughter, a bride." I tried to smile, but even to me it felt forced. It wasn't nerves I felt—or at least not the usual kind of nerves a bride was supposed to feel. It was something more complex, a mix of guilt, anxiety, and, surprisingly, a strange sense of anticipation. "Wow!" Annabelle stopped in the doorway, jaw dropping. "Someone's going to have a heart attack when they see you in that dress, and I'm not talking about Joseph." "Annie!" my mother scolded, though she couldn't hide a smile. They bustled aroun

Christian's eyes never left mine as I walked down the aisle, my father at my side. The mix of emotions on his face was indescribable—surprise, admiration, and something deeper I couldn't quite name. When I finally reached the altar, my father gave my hand one last squeeze before placing it in Christian's. "You are the most beautiful—and most unexpected—bride I've ever seen," he whispered, his genuine smile lighting up his eyes. "I thought it suited the Kensington wine theme," I replied, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. Christian chuckled softly, a sound only I could hear. "Always surprising, Zoey Bennett. That's what I admire most about you. I never know what to expect—only that it will be extraordinary." The officiant began the ceremony, his calm voice echoing between the vines. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over us, creating an almost magical atmosphere. I kept my gaze fixed on Christian, afraid to glance at the crowd and see Isabelle and Francesca's d

I woke with the first rays of sunlight slipping through the half-drawn curtains, my head still heavy from the wine the night before. It took me a few seconds to register where I was—and more importantly, with whom. Christian was still asleep beside me, one arm draped loosely over my waist. His face, relaxed in slumber, looked so different from the carefully controlled expression he wore while awake. Carefully, I slipped out of his embrace and stood. We had a flight to catch to Valentia. The thought still felt surreal, almost laughable. Me, who had never even left Verdania, about to board a plane for a honeymoon in Montelira. Thankfully, I had a valid passport. Edward had once insisted that everyone in Sunvale's PR team keep their documents up-to-date, claiming it was for possible international wine fairs. One of the few useful things he'd ever done for me, in the end. As I dressed, Christian stirred awake, his eyes locking on mine with that same intensity that always unsettled me