Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109

“Water? Seriously?” Annie’s eyes narrowed, a wicked smile curving her lips. “You’re at the Kensington winery’s party of the year. Are you insane, or should I start calling you Mom?”

I turned to see her striding toward me, two glasses of wine in hand. She offered me one, her brow furrowed.

“Annie…” I rolled my eyes, though her teasing hit closer than she realized. A flicker of unease rippled through me. “If you keep sneaking off with Marcus like that, you’re the one who’s going to end up pregnant first.”

She laughed, taking a generous sip from her glass. “He spent weeks in Euradia. I’m allowed to make up for lost time.”

“Well, I miss Christian too,” I muttered, glancing toward the crowd. “And we can barely get five minutes alone.”

“Not my fault you two aren’t creative enough to find your own dark corners.” Annie smirked behind her glass. Twenty well-spent minutes in a supply closet can work wonders. Ask Marcus.”

“Details I definitely don’t need.” I shook my head, trying not to laugh. The banter was a welcome relief after my unnerving encounter with Edward.

A soft ripple moved through the crowd as Joseph made his way onto the small stage set up near the front, Christian steadying him discreetly by the arm. Like a quiet wave, conversations faded to a hush. No one needed an announcement; respect alone was enough to draw every gaze toward the patriarch.

“Come on, it’s speech time,” Annie said, looping her arm through mine and tugging me closer to the stage.

Joseph waited until the room was fully still. Even at eighty-three, he stood tall, his presence commanding without effort. Beside him, Christian’s posture was formal, but his eyes were searching the room-and found mine almost immediately.

“My dear friends and family,” Joseph began, his voice clear and surprisingly strong for his age. “First, I want to thank you all for being here tonight. Seeing so many beloved faces gathered together is the greatest gift a man my age could receive.”

Smiles and nods rippled through the audience. Joseph took a small sip of wine before continuing.

“Eighty-three years is no small feat.” He grinned, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. “I’ve lived long enough to see the world change over and over again. I’ve seen wars end and others begin. I’ve watched new technologies rise and fade. But most importantly, I’ve had the privilege of seeing this family and this winery grow and thrive through the generations.”

His gaze shifted to Christian, filled with unmistakable pride and affection.

“When Sophie passed, I thought the best part of my life was over,” he said softly, his voice faltering for the first time. “And in many ways, I was right. But what I didn’t realize then was that there was still so much left to witness, so much still worth living for.”

Joseph’s eyes swept the crowd until they found mine. A gentle smile touched his lips, and I knew in that instant he was thinking of our conversation in the cellar.

“The greatest joy of growing old,” he continued, “is watching the next generation take the reins and carry them farther than you ever could yourself.” He turned back to Christian. “My grandson took over Kensington Wineries a few years ago, and he’s made it greater than it ever was under my leadership.”

Christian shook his head modestly, but Joseph lifted a hand to silence him.

“It’s true, and you know it, so don’t be stubborn.” A ripple of laughter swept through the guests-including, to my surprise, a faint smile from Lawrence Kensington himself. “Under your leadership, the winery hasn’t just grown in numbers, but in vision and purpose.”

Then Joseph rested a hand on Christian’s shoulder, the gesture simple but heavy with meaning.

‘And tonight, as a birthday gift to myself,” he said, his smile widening, “I am officially transferring majority ownership of Kensington Wineries to Christian.”

A murmur of shock rippled through the hall.

“At eighty-three, I think it’s finally time to retire completely,” he added with a gleam in his eye, “and leave the reins in the most capable hands I know.”

I saw Christian straighten his shoulders, the flicker of emotion in his expression impossible to miss-a mix of pride, surprise, and something that looked very much like apprehension. He’d been CEO for years, but this was different. This was legacy. Joseph wasn’t just transferring ownership; he was passing the torch, the weight of the family name, the very heart of Kensington, into his grandson’s hands.

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