Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Alex’s words lingered in the air between us, heavy with insinuation. My body reacted in a contradictory way-a shiver at the treacherous memory of sensations my heart hadn’t completely forgotten.

Before I could form a response, a cold, controlled voice cut through the moment.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Christian stood at the base of the staircase, staring at us with an expression I had never seen before. His eyes- usually warm when they met mine-were hard as stone. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid.

Alex smiled, stepping back but showing not the slightest trace of embarrassment.

“Just reminiscing with your fiancée,” he said with studied casualness. “Zoey and I have… a lot of history.”

Christian crossed the distance between us with measured steps, placing himself at my side. His arm slid around my waist possessively, his fingers pressing lightly against the thin fabric of my dress.

“History. Exactly that,” Christian replied, his tone glacial. “Something that belongs in the past.’

He shot me a quick but intense glance before fixing his eyes back on Alex.

“The guests are gathering in the dining room. I suggest you join them, Mr. Pereira.”

The use of his last name was a subtle reminder that Alex wasn’t part of the inner circle. Alex seemed to notice, his smile faltering for just a second before recovering.

“Of course.” He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “See you inside.”

As he walked away, Christian didn’t relax. His fingers remained firmly at my waist, as if afraid I might run after Alex the moment he let go.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice still tense.

“Yes, I…”

“Come on.” He cut me off, guiding me toward the dining room. “We shouldn’t keep the guests waiting.”

Dinner was an elegant torture. Seated between Christian and Marcus, I could feel the icy distance radiating from Christian beside me. He spoke animatedly with everyone else at the table-his grandfather, the investors, even Elise, who looked particularly pleased with herself that night. But with me, he exchanged only what was necessary -brief, polite words, nothing more.

Across the table, Alex didn’t bother to disguise his glances. Whenever no one was looking, he watched me over the rim of his wineglass, his gaze occasionally drifting down to my neckline-or curling into a smile that carried far too many intimate memories.

Francesca was there too, seated as far from Joseph as possible. His expression visibly hardened every time she spoke, a clear sign he hadn’t forgotten or forgiven her betrayal of the Kensingtons. Still, she carried herself with calculated elegance, occasionally glancing in our direction, watching the dynamics with clinical interest.

“So, Zoey,” Joseph broke my silent observation. “Christian tells me you have an eye for detail. What do you think of our art collection?”

It was the perfect cue for a safe topic of conversation, one that allowed me to breathe for a few minutes, away from the suffocating tension between Christian and me.

During dessert, I suddenly felt something brush against my leg under the table. A foot sliding slowly up my calf. I nearly choked on my lemon sorbet, my eyes instantly searching for the culprit. Alex smiled from his seat, a smile that made it painfully clear this was no accident.

I jerked my leg back abruptly, nearly knocking over my glass. Christian glanced at me, a silent question in hist eyes, but quickly looked away, turning back to his conversation with a Chinese investor.

The night seemed to drag on endlessly until, finally, the guests began saying their goodbyes. Christian remained the perfect host until the very last of them had left-except for Alex and Elise, who were staying in one of the guesthouses on the property.

When we finally went up to our room, the silence between us was almost deafening. I closed the door behind me, watching as Christian yanked at his tie with sharp, impatient movements.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked at last.

He looked at me as though he had momentarily forgotten I was even there.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” I crossed my arms. “You spent the entire night treating me like I was invisible. What did I do?”

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