Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 17

Christian's silence hit me like a slap.

"I'm not sure if she'll be there in person, but—"

"Of course she'll be there," I cut him off, standing abruptly. "She said she'd send the 'best team.' Of course that includes her. Elise would never pass up the chance to be in the spotlight at an event like this."

Christian sighed, pushing aside his half-finished glass of wine.

"Zoey, even if she is, does it matter? You're my fiancée now. You're with me."

"Easy for you to say when you weren't the one who walked in on your fiancé with your best friend."

Something softened in his gaze.

"I know it's hard. But don't let them keep that power over you."

I dug my nails into my palms, fighting the urge to crumble.

"I need some air."

"Come with me." Christian stood, holding out his hand. "There's something I want to show you."

I hesitated, but eventually slipped my hand into his. I needed the distraction—anything to keep from spiraling about Elise showing up tomorrow.

He led me through the gardens and onto a trail that sloped gently down the hill. The afternoon sun bathed the vineyards in golden light, the whole scene so beautiful it didn't feel real.

"These are the oldest vines on the estate," Christian explained, his voice calmer the further we got from the house. "Some of them are over eighty years old."

We walked between the rows, the air rich with the sweet scent of ripe grapes. Every so often, Christian would stop to point something out: a perfect cluster, the way the leaves shifted with the breeze, the texture of the fertile soil beneath our feet.

"You really love this place, don't you?" I asked, noticing the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about the vineyards.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

"It's more than a business or an inheritance. It's… part of who I am."

There was a sincerity in his words that caught me off guard. This was a different Christian—the man beneath the arrogance and calculation I thought defined him.

"And you," he went on, pausing to look straight at me. "You're not who they said you were."

Something tightened in my chest.

"What do you mean?"

"You're stronger than they thought. More resilient." His gaze was steady, sincere. "And definitely more interesting."

I didn't know what to say. A part of me wanted to believe him—to believe that all of this, he, was real. But the rational part, the part that had already been broken once, stayed on guard.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into something unexpectedly pleasant. Christian showed me more of the estate, telling me stories from his childhood here: moments with his grandfather among the vines, his first lessons in winemaking. Little by little, the weight of Elise's shadow lifted, replaced with a genuine curiosity about the man at my side.

By the time the sun began to set, we were heading back to the mansion. Dinner was shared with Marcus and a few key staff from the winery, and I somehow managed to get through the whole evening without thinking about the next day's event.

Until it was time to sleep.

Christian closed the door to the suite behind us, and suddenly all the thoughts I'd shoved to the back of my mind came rushing back. Not just Elise and the looming event—but the fact that we'd be sleeping in the same room. In the same bed.

He watched me for a moment, that mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't worry, Zoey. I'll stay on my side of the bed… unless you ask me not to."

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