Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Joseph’s question hung in the air, heavy as lead. ‘Do you really love him?’ Five simple words that knocked the wind out of me, as if I’d been punched in the stomach.

My mind spun in a whirlwind of thoughts. Lying to Christian’s grandfather about how we first met was one thing, but declaring love? That was different. Deeper. More intimate.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My palms grew sweaty, and I could feel the weight of Joseph’s intense gaze pressing on me, waiting for an answer. The truth? No, I didn’t love Christian. How could I? Our relationship was a farce, a business deal dressed up as romance. But then…

Why did the memory of him lying beside me during the storm come to mind? Why did I suddenly see the vulnerability in his eyes when he talked about Francesca? Or the way he held my hands when he confessed he’d grown up practically alone?

“Grandpa,” Christian cut in, his calm voice breaking through the heavy silence. “Some things are too important to be laid bare like this.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Christian smiled-that smile, the one he only ever wore in genuine moments -and placed his hand over mine.

“But if you need confirmation…” he went on, turning to me. “I think it’s pretty clear what we feel for each other.”

Before I could process his words, Christian leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t like the teasing kiss from days ago, nor the fiery moments we’d shared in the pool. This was different. It was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were truly asking permission. As if he was respecting my boundaries, yet still putting something real into the gesture.

When he pulled back, my heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves or fear.

“I see my grandson has finally found someone special,” Joseph said, a glint of approval in his eyes. “I’m pleased, Miss Bennett. Very pleased.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kensington,” I managed to murmur, still feeling Christian’s lips lingering on mine.

“And when do you plan to make it official?” he asked bluntly. “The vineyard would be the perfect setting for an autumn wedding. Perhaps May? Before the harvest.”

May? That was only three months away! A chill ran down my spine. Our arrangement didn’t go that far. This was only supposed to be about this trip, just these days of pretending…

“We haven’t set a date yet, Grandpa,” Christian replied smoothly.

“Don’t wait too long,” Joseph warned, his voice softened by a paternal tone. “At eighty-two, I don’t have the luxury of waiting forever to see my only grandson married.”

Before the conversation could veer into even more dangerous territory, we were interrupted by Marcus, who approached quickly.

“Grandpa Joseph, sorry to intrude, but the president of the Winemakers’ Association just arrived and is asking for you.” He cast a quick glance at us. “Something about exports.”

Joseph nodded, as if he had already expected it.

“Well, duty calls.” He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Zoey. I hope we can talk more during your stay.”

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