Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 106

Chapter 106

I found Joseph in the private wine cellar, a space that felt almost sacred within the Kensington estate, reserved for the rarest and most precious bottles. The air was cool and perfectly controlled, carrying the rich scent of aged oak and old wine-a fragrance that seemed to hum with history. Stone walls lined with shelves held bottles worth more than luxury cars, a quiet testament to the family’s legacy and pride.

Joseph sat in an old leather armchair, the kind that had probably been there for decades, studying a dusty bottle under the soft amber light. Even at eighty-three, there was a commanding strength in his posture. His hands, weathered by time and work, cradled the bottle with the same reverence a priest might give to a relic.

“Joseph?” I said gently, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up, and his whole face brightened. The lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled, the kind of smile that carried a lifetime of warmth.

“Ah, Zoey! Come, come. I want to show you something.”

I stepped closer, my heels clicking softly against the stone floor. He was holding a bottle so old that the label had nearly disintegrated, its edges yellowed and curling with age.

“What is it?”

“Kensington Reserve, 1947,” he said proudly. “The first wine my father made after returning from the war. I was only five, but I remember him crying when the first barrel was opened.” His fingers brushed the bottle gently, as if soothing a fragile creature. “I’ve kept this one for decades. It’s the last one left.”

“It belongs in a museum,” I said, genuinely awed.

“No, no.” He shook his head with firm conviction. “Wine is meant to be drunk, to celebrate life. And who knows if I’ll have another birthday to toast?” His tone was serene, but the quiet finality in his words made my throat tighten. “Life is finite, Zoey. Mine has lasted longer than most men get.”

“Don’t say that, Joseph,” I protested softly, a pang of emotion rising in my chest. “You’ll have plenty more birthdays ahead.”

He smiled again, that wise, knowing smile of a man who’d long made peace with the idea of endings.

“Maybe so. But either way, I’m opening this one tonight-to celebrate eighty-three years well lived. And I want you to be the first to taste it with me.”

I blinked, surprised by the honor.

“Me? But shouldn’t Christian, or Marcus-

“They’ll get their turn.” He waved a dismissive hand, as if brushing away something trivial. “But you… you’ve brought something back to this family, to my grandson. Something I thought he’d never find again.”

My throat constricted. His words slipped past every defense I’d built, landing right where I was most vulnerable.

“Joseph, I…”

“You know,” he said, his gaze drifting toward a framed photograph on the wall-a younger version of himself

beside a smiling woman amid blooming vineyards. “When Sophie was alive, this house had music. Not the kind played by hired musicians, but the music of laughter, of life being lived out loud.”

He touched the glass over her face gently, his expression softening with love and loss.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify