Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 33

Chapter 33

“Confirm with the Cabernet promoters that they’re supposed to be at station three, not two,” I instructed Lisa, while adjusting the small Sunvale pin on my navy blazer.

The event hall was flawless. The soft lighting created a sophisticated atmosphere, highlighting the wine displays and the infographics about the winery’s production process. The first guests would be arriving in ten minutes, and my team moved with coordinated efficiency, making the final adjustments.

“Zoey, Edward wants to see you in the lobby,” one of the assistants said as he passed by.

I found my boss near the main entrance, nervously adjusting his tie. Edward Mendez was a man in his early forties, with an energy that made it hard for anyone around him to stand still.

“Ah, Zoey!” His face lit up when he saw me. “Everything’s perfect. You’ve exceeded my expectations once again.”

“Thank you. The team worked hard.”

“The team followed your instructions.” He smiled, but there was something calculating in his eyes that I’d begun to notice more and more over the past few weeks. “Listen, I need you to pay special attention to the Association’s representatives. The president, Robert Sanders, is crucial for our expansion plans.”

“I’ve already assigned Lisa to accompany him throughout the event.”

“Excellent.” He checked his watch. “And what about the Kensingtons?”

That uncomfortable feeling returned. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, Edward’s insistence on the Kensingtons always left me uneasy.

“Christian Kensington himself confirmed,” Edward said, watching me closely as if studying my reaction. “Along with his export director.”

I kept my expression neutral, though my heart sped up. In just a few hours, I’d be face to face with Christian. After three months. Ninety-two days, to be exact. Not that I’d been counting.

“I’ll assign someone appropriate to receive them.”

“Actually…” Edward placed a hand on my shoulder. “I thought you could do it yourself. Considering your… previous relationship with him.”

The way Edward always mentioned my past with Christian grated on me. Ever since the interview, when he’d remarked that “personal connections can open professional doors, I’d been trying to prove my worth as more than just “Kensington’s fiancée.”

“Of course. No problem.”.

Edward gave my shoulder a light squeeze before moving off to greet the first guests as they arrived.

During the first hour of the event, I managed to keep my mind occupied with a thousand operational details. Lisa needed guidance with a difficult sommelier. One of the interactive displays malfunctioned. An influential critic arrived early and demanded immediate attention.

It was while I was explaining the oak notes in our Special Reserve to that critic that I felt it. That unmistakable sensation of being watched. Of being watched by him.

I turned slowly, and there was Christian Kensington, standing near the entrance. Impeccable in a charcoal suit that looked like it had been sewn directly onto his body. His hair perfectly styled, his stubble at that precise balance between careless and refined. Beside him, an older man carried a folder and appeared to be taking notes on a tablet.

“Sure, boss. But he’s heading this way, so… good luck holding onto that professionalism.”

My entire body tensed. Christian had finished his circuit of the hall and was now walking with purpose straight toward me. Each step closed the physical distance that had stretched between us for three months, while my heartbeat grew faster and faster.

The last time we had been this close, his lips were on mine, his hands on my waist, inside that Porsche parked in front of my house. Before he said no. Before he left.

I took a deep breath, lifting my chin slightly. I wasn’t that desperate Zoey anymore, begging him to come inside. I was a competent professional, running an important event, building a new career.

“Miss Bennett,” Christian said at last, stopping in front of me-so close I could catch the faint scent of his cologne, the same one he wore that night by the pool.

“Mr. Kensington,” I replied, proud that my voice came out steady, even while every inch of me seemed to recognize his nearness.

For a moment, we just stood there, measuring each other, taking in the subtle changes three months had brought. He looked thinner, with faint shadows under his eyes. Had he not been sleeping well? Did he think of me in the same dark hours of the night when I thought of him?

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice lower, almost intimate.

A simple question, but weighted with so much meaning. With so many possibilities. I thought about saying no- about not reopening old wounds, about keeping the safe distance those three months had built. But maybe Christian wasn’t thinking about any of that. Maybe this was just professional, about wines or the event.

“Of course,” I answered, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Follow me.”