Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The question hung between us, heavy and unavoidable. Christian held my gaze for a long moment, as if weighing how much truth I deserved to hear. Then, surprisingly, he smiled-not that confident smile he showed the world, but something softer, almost resigned.

“It’s not something you get over overnight.” He threw my own words back at me, and somehow, that hurt more than any other answer could have.

I looked away, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the carpet under our feet. Christian stepped closer, though he still kept a respectful distance. 1

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he clarified. “I don’t feel love for her. Not anymore. But I feel the mark she left.” He ran a hand through his hair, that telltale gesture I had come to recognize as discomfort. “Her betrayal didn’t just affect my family’s business. It affected my ability to… trust.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. This wasn’t the confident CEO or the skilled charmer. This was just a man, scarred by love gone wrong, like me.

“I understand that more than you realize,” I murmured, the anger I’d been carrying slowly dissipating.

Christian sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slightly hunched. It was a posture I had never seen on him before.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted at dinner,” he said, staring down at his hands. “It was… inappropriate.”

“It was,” I agreed, though without hostility. “But I understand why.”

He looked up at me, surprised.

"You do?”

“Seeing Alex and Francesca on the same night couldn’t have been easy,” I explained, taking a seat in the armchair across from him. “And then… well, you saw us on the stairs.”

Christian nodded slowly.

“It wasn’t just that.” He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “It was seeing the way he looked at you. Like he still had some claim over you.”

“He doesn’t,” I said firmly, with more conviction than I actually felt. “No matter what confusing feelings I still have, Alex lost every right to me the moment he chose Elise.”

A comfortable silence settled between us. It was strange how, in the middle of all these lies and deals, we could still find moments of almost brutal honesty with each other.

“Tomorrow will be a long day,” Christian said after a while, changing the subject. “The event with the influencers.

I rolled my eyes instinctively.

“You don’t sound very excited about it.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s Elite PR’s idea. Apparently, we need young people with millions of followers posting pictures of wine glasses to ‘revitalize our image.””

The disdain in his tone made me smile.

“You don’t agree?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Christian stood and walked to the window. “I understand the importance of social media. But Kensington has four generations of tradition. I wanted something that reflected our history, our authenticity. Not just a generic backdrop for selfies and hashtags.”

“What do you mean, generic?”

He gestured vaguely.

“An ‘Instagrammable picnic’ among the vineyards. Balloons, colorful pillows, fairy lights. It could be any brand, any product. None of that says ‘Kensington.”” He shook his head. “But Marcus insisted we needed a stronger social media presence, and Elite PR is ‘the best in the market right now.””

“The best?” I let out a scoff. “Please. They’re pathetically generic-you said it yourself.”

Christian looked at me curiously.

“And who would you suggest then? If not the trendiest agency around?”

“Me.”

The word slipped out before I could think better of it. Christian turned fully toward me, eyebrows raised.

“You?”

He kept watching me, his eyes searching my face as if trying to find something.

“You keep surprising me, Zoey Bennett.”

Something in the way he said my name made my heart race. There was an intimacy in that moment that had nothing to do with our bodies and everything to do with the parts of ourselves we rarely showed the world.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said, breaking the moment. “Tomorrow we’ll have to smile and pose for dozens of influencers. We’d better rest.”

Christian nodded and stood.

“I’ll set up the couch.”

Like the nights before, he grabbed a pillow and blanket to make do with the sofa. As I headed into the bathroom to change, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much had shifted in just a few days. Not only between Christian and me, but inside myself.

When I returned, wearing a more modest nightgown than the ones before, Christian was sitting on the couch, looking at his phone.

“All set for tomorrow?” I asked.

He lifted his eyes, and for a moment, something flickered across his face-something I couldn’t quite place.

“All set.”

I slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

“Good night, Christian.”

“Good night, Zoey.”

In the dark, I heard him settle onto the couch. For some reason, the distance between us felt greater than ever, despite the intimate conversation we had just shared. Or maybe… precisely because of it.

Sleep was slow to come, my mind replaying our words. “It’s not something you get over overnight.” He still had feelings for Francesca. And I still had feelings for Alex. Two wounded people, pretending at something that didn’t exist, while hiding truths too painful to fully reveal.

What a strange pair we made.