All Chapters of Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The navy-blue dress I found in the suite's wardrobe was stunning—an elegant Valentino design with an asymmetrical cut that draped perfectly over my body. Christian had provided a complete wardrobe for me, anticipating any possible social occasion. What he hadn't anticipated was that his own mother would be the occasion to fear. I adjusted the delicate necklace at my throat, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. From bridal shop assistant to hostess of a dinner for the Valentian wine elite. Christian entered the room, immaculate in his dark suit. The look in his eyes when he saw me sent warmth rushing through me, momentarily pushing back my nerves. "You look breathtaking," he said, stepping close to brush a soft kiss across my lips. "I'm terrified," I confessed, straightening his pocket square. "I learned the basics about wine working at Sunvale, but that was more marketing and PR. I don't know if it's enough to impress people who've lived and breathed viticulture for generat

"And this is the story behind the Golden Vineyard," Gwen explained, guiding me through a special section of the cellar where the oldest bottles rested in stone alcoves. "It started when my great-grandfather Joseph. Srl lost a bet to a Franconian producer. Out of wounded pride, he decided to create a wine that would surpass the best Bordeaux." We were on the fourth day of my "lessons" with Gwen, and unlike what I'd imagined, we weren't spending all our time tasting wine. Instead, she was introducing me to the rich history of the Kensington family, revealing details Christian had never mentioned. "And did he succeed?" I asked, running my fingers lightly across the yellowed label of a bottle from the 1950s. "Six years later, at a blind tasting in Paraise, the Golden Vineyard came in first place. The Franconian had to admit defeat publicly." Gwen smiled with ancestral pride. "Since then, we've reserved the best slopes for this particular line." I inspected the bottle with renewed i

After Francesca left, I remained on the veranda for a long time, her words swirling in my mind like leaves in a storm. I needed to find out more, to understand what had really happened years ago. Lucy appeared with my coffee, and as she set the table, I decided this was my chance. "Lucy?" I began hesitantly, trying to piece together my limited Valentian vocabulary. "Posso… ask… qualcosa?" She smiled kindly and nodded. "Francesca e Christian…" I hesitated, searching for words. "Molto tempo… insieme?" Lucy frowned, trying to make sense of my broken question. "Francesca e Mr. Christian?" She made a vague gesture with her hands. "Sì, sì. Da bambini. Cresciuti insieme." Grew up together. That much I already knew. I tried to ask something more specific. "Francesca… bambino?" I asked, miming cradling a baby. "Con Christian?" Lucy's face shut down immediately. She shook her head vigorously, crossing herself. "Non parliamo di questo. Tragedia. Tragedia!" She seemed genuinely

The silence that followed had a special quality, as if we were suspended in that moment beneath the stars, with no past and no future. Just the two of us and that shared vulnerability. Of all the things Christian had shown me—the villa, the vineyards, the centuries-old cellars—this place, this moment, felt the most intimate. "Do you come here often?" I asked at last, breaking the quiet. "Whenever I can." He was still gazing at the sky, but I sensed his mind had drifted elsewhere. "Less than I'd like. Business takes up too much time." "The winery." "Yes." A sigh. "The pressure never lets up. My grandfather thinks I'm ready to take full control, but Lawrence and Isabelle have other ideas. The board is divided." "Because of the organic project?" I asked, recalling what Gwen had mentioned. Christian turned his head sharply, his gaze suddenly alert. "How do you know about that?" There was a flicker of suspicion in his voice that I didn't miss. "Gwen mentioned it," I explai

The possibility lingered in the air, almost tangible. Annie's words echoed in my mind like a refrain I couldn't ignore. Break the contract? Turn our charade into reality? It was something I hadn't even allowed myself to consider, too afraid of drowning in false hope. Once again, Elise's words came back to haunt me: "No one will ever choose someone like you." Would a man like Christian Kensington who was wealthy, sophisticated, and heir to a wine empire ever willingly choose to stay with me when he no longer had to? When the deal was done and his grandfather was reassured? "I don't know if he…" "Did you ask him?" "Of course not!" "Then how do you know?" Her tone was exasperated. "Look, if he's showing you special places, giving you jewelry, having amazing sex with you in the vineyards—" "I didn't say it was amazing!" "Please, you didn't need to. It's Valentia. Everything is more sensual there." She waved off my protest. "The point is, those aren't the actions of someone ju