Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50

The last day of the event arrived with a frenetic energy. After an entire day juggling wedding preparations and Vivian’s endless demands, the intersectoral conference’s closing almost felt like a relief-despite the new mission we now faced.

“Remember, you two need to look natural,” Marcus instructed as we walked toward the complex. “Like a couple who overcame a rough patch and is stronger than ever.”

“We know,” Christian replied, his tone edged with irritation. “This isn’t the first time we’ve pretended to be together.”

Marcus raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m just saying there’s a lot at stake. Reporters will be everywhere,”

Christian reached for my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with a familiarity we shouldn’t have had after three months apart-if we’d truly been apart.

“We’ll be fine,” he assured, though it wasn’t clear whether he was speaking to me or Marcus.

As we crossed the parking lot, I mentally repeated the story we’d rehearsed. No, we hadn’t really broken up. We’d simply gone through an intense professional period that had kept us apart. But now that we were finally together again, marriage couldn’t wait. Perfect Simple. Convincing.

Except that every time Christian touched my hand, or placed his palm at the small of my back, or leaned close to whisper in my ear, my whole body remembered that kiss in the cellar.

The main hall of the event buzzed with activity. Exhibitors dismantling booths, participants exchanging last- minute cards, journalists chasing their final interviews. As soon as we entered, I felt several gazes turn our way, followed by thinly veiled whispers.

“Christian Kensington and his fiancée,” murmured a man with a professional camera, not discreet enough for us not to hear.

Christian gave my hand a light squeeze, a silent reminder that we were in this together. I forced a smile as we moved through the hall, pausing occasionally to greet people.

“Mr. Kensington!” A reporter from a wine magazine hurried up, microphone in hand, a cameraman trailing close behind. “What a surprise to see you two together again! Rumor has it-”

“The rumors are true,” Christian answered with an easy smile, sliding his arm around my waist. “We’re engaged and we’re getting married next weekend.”

The reporter’s eyes widened, the scoop practically gleaming in her gaze.

“But the breakup-”

“That was a misunderstanding,” I cut in, stepping into my role. “We were going through a very demanding professional period.” The words felt strange in my mouth, but I forced myself to continue. “Now that we can finally be together, we see no reason to wait.”

Christian’s arm tightened slightly around me, as if approving of my performance. The reporter, however, didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“And this has nothing to do with Joseph Kensington’s health? We’ve heard he was recently hospitalized.”

I felt Christian tense beside me. Joseph’s condition wasn’t public knowledge.

“My grandfather is recovering well, thank you for asking,” he replied, tone cordial but firm. “And yes, he’s looking forward to the wedding, just like we are.”

A few more questions followed about the winery, the event, our future plans-each answered with polite smiles and carefully polished half-truths. When the reporter finally stepped away, Christian leaned close to whisper in my ear, “You’re doing well.”

His warm breath against my skin sent shivers down my body, and I wondered if he had noticed.

The afternoon rolled on with more of the same. More questions about our relationship, more public displays of affection. A kiss on the cheek here, a smoldering look there. Every gesture felt both rehearsed and dangerously natural.

During a quiet moment, I slipped away to the bathroom, needing a break from the curious stares. But when I stepped back out, I stifled a groan of frustration at the sight of who was waiting in the hallway.

Francesca leaned casually against the opposite wall, flawless in a white dress that highlighted her effortless elegance. Her smile, when her eyes met mine, was anything but friendly

“The famous Zoey Bennett,” she said, pronouncing my name as if it were a private joke. “The woman who finally captured Christian’s heart.”

I lifted my chin, refusing to show any discomfort.

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