Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 15

Christian immediately shifted back into his polished façade. The brief glimpse of vulnerability was gone.

"We'll get through this quickly," he said, buckling his seatbelt. "The forecast in the South is perfect."

I fastened mine too, realizing the moment had slipped away. He wasn't going to finish that story now. The wall was back up.

As the plane jolted, my mind wouldn't stop racing. I found out she was… what? Cheating? Was that it? Christian Kensington, the man who seemed to have everything… knew what betrayal felt like too?

And more importantly: what did that mean for me, for us, for this bizarre arrangement we'd gotten ourselves into?

The turbulence lasted only a few minutes, but it was enough to shift the atmosphere between us completely. Christian pulled out his laptop and buried himself in work, answering emails with a concentration that felt deliberate. It was as if he wanted to make sure there was no space for our earlier conversation to continue.

The rest of the flight passed in a silence that was almost comfortable. I lost myself staring out the window as the landscape slowly changed beneath us: coastline giving way to rolling green mountains, patchwork fields painted like a canvas, tiny towns nestled in valleys like miniatures.

When we finally began to descend, the pilot announced our arrival at the Kensington private airstrip. I pressed closer to the window, awestruck. Below us stretched what looked like a private kingdom: endless hectares of vineyards perfectly lined across gentle hills, rolling as far as the eye could see.

"All of this is yours?" I asked, unable to hide the wonder in my voice.

Christian glanced from his laptop to the view.

"The family's," he corrected. "Four generations of Kensingtons built this."

There was undeniable pride in his tone—mixed with something heavier, almost like a burden.

The landing was smooth, and as soon as the plane came to a stop, Christian packed away his laptop and stood.

"Ready?" he asked, holding his hand out to me.

I wasn't. How could anyone be ready to walk into a world like this? But I slipped my hand into his anyway, feeling the warmth of his fingers against mine.

We stepped down the jet's staircase into a perfect day in the Highridge Valley. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of earth and ripe grapes. In the distance, a mansion rose from the top of a hill—walls pale and stately, dark roof, surrounded by lush gardens. It looked like something out of a period film.

A woman in her fifties waited beside a sleek black Land Rover.

"Mr. Kensington, welcome back," she greeted warmly. Then her eyes shifted to me—curious, but kind. "And this must be Miss Bennett."

Christian placed a possessive hand on my back.

"Zoey, this is Carmen, our housekeeper. She practically raised me."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, miss," Carmen said, her voice carrying a light accent I couldn't place. "We've heard so much about you."

I forced a smile, wondering exactly what they'd heard.

"The pleasure's mine."

"Lunch will be served in one hour," Carmen informed us as she led us toward the car. "I thought you might want to freshen up first."

The drive from the airstrip to the mansion was short, but long enough to leave me even more impressed. The estate was even larger than it had looked from the air. Immaculate vineyards stretched in every direction, workers moving between neat rows of vines, and in the distance I spotted what had to be the winery itself—a cluster of buildings blending traditional architecture with sleek modern design.

When we arrived at the mansion, I was greeted by a grand entrance hall: marble floors, a sweeping double staircase, and artwork that looked like it was worth more than my entire future. Christian guided me upstairs, his hand never leaving the small of my back, as though he expected me to bolt at any second.

"This is my suite," he said, opening a massive wooden door.

The room was bigger than most apartments. A king-sized bed dominated the center, complete with a canopy and linens that looked softer than clouds. Huge windows framed views of the gardens and, beyond them, endless vineyards stretching to the horizon. A stone fireplace warmed one corner, flanked by plush armchairs, and doors on either side hinted at a closet and a bathroom.

My bags were already there, placed discreetly near a console table.

"It's… big," was all I managed.

Christian smirked, clearly amused by my reaction.

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