Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54

The night was surprisingly warm for the Highridge Valley at that time of year. The starry sky stretched like a blanket of light over the property, and the full moon shimmered on the surface of the infinity pool set on one of the mansion’s far terraces-a spot Christian had shown me earlier, assuring me it was rarely used by the family.

“Is this thing heated?” Annabelle asked, cautiously dipping her hand in the water.

“Thirty-two degrees, to be exact,” I replied, slipping off my shoes. “Perks of being a billionaire.”

Annabelle was already tugging off her light dress, revealing the bikini she’d apparently been wearing under her clothes all day, as if she had planned this moment.

“So, is this a bachelorette party?” She raised the bottle of champagne she had “borrowed” from the wine cellar, her mischievous smile glowing under the moonlight. “Kind of lame, don’t you think? No strippers, no embarrassing games…’

“Perfect for me,” I said, stepping into the water still wearing the loose T-shirt and shorts I’d put on after dinner. The heat of the pool against my skin was instantly relaxing.

Annabelle followed me in, champagne bottle still in hand. She had somehow found two glasses in the mansion and was now filling them with surprising skill, even while half-submerged.

“To my sister,” she toasted, pushing a glass toward me. “Who tomorrow will marry an absurdly rich, absurdly handsome, and absurdly complicated man.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, clinking my glass lightly against hers.

“To your sister. Who somehow ended up in the middle of a Valentian soap opera.”

The champagne went down easily, cold against my throat, contrasting with the warmth of the water. I leaned my head back against the edge, watching the stars above.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could hold them back.

Annabelle, who had settled on the other side of the pool, looked at me with an unexpectedly serious expression.

“I think you’ve always been the sensible one in the family. The one who thinks before she acts, the one who plans every step.” She took another sip. “So yes, I’m legitimately shocked by this whole madness.”

“Thanks for the moral support.”

“But,” she lifted a finger, smiling. “I also think that, for the first time in your life, I’m watching you follow your instincts instead of your reason. And that’s… interesting.”

“My instincts?” I almost choked on the champagne. “Annie, this is an arrangement. A six-month contract. I’m not following anything except some… I don’t know, sense of payback.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She refilled our glasses. “And that’s why you’ve got that lost puppy look every time Christian’s around? Because of the ‘contract’?”

I felt my face heat up, and it wasn’t because of the water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” Annabelle rolled her eyes dramatically. “Just like you don’t know why you got all huffy when I said I was going to have some fun with Marcus.”

“Marcus’s a womanizing playboy.”

“But what a playboy!” She sighed dreamily. “And that Valentian accent when he whispers in your ear…”

“Annie!”

She laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet garden.

“Relax, sis. I can take care of myself. Besides, I’ve got to enjoy myself while I’m here, don’t I? Unlike you, who’s got six whole months to have fun with your Kensington.”

I splashed water at her, making her shriek and splash back. For a few minutes, we were just two sisters in a water fight, laughing like kids, forgetting for a moment about the wedding, the Kensingtons, everything.

When we finally calmed down, breathless and with champagne in our hair, Annabelle looked at me with a softer expression.

“Like Francesca.”

“Exactly. And then you showed up, and suddenly he’s breaking all the rules.”

Her words made me pause. Could it really be that Christian saw something in me beyond just a convenient solution to his problem? That some part of him genuinely liked the disruption I brought into his carefully ordered life?

“Or maybe,” I said, forcing myself not to romanticize things, “he’s just making the most practical choice to secure his inheritance.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes, finishing off the last drop of champagne.

“Zoey, Zoey, always so pragmatic.” She shook her head. “Here’s my advice as your little sister: enjoy these six months. Not as a contract, not as a business deal. As an adventure.”

“An adventure?”

“Yes! You’re going to be married to a ridiculously attractive man, living in a mansion straight out of a movie, with access to places most people only dream of seeing.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling with the excitement I clearly didn’t share. “Don’t spend six months counting the days until it’s over. Live every single one like it’s real.”

“Even knowing it’s not?”

“Who knows?” She shrugged, climbing out of the pool in one fluid movement. “Maybe if you pretend long enough, it’ll become real. Or maybe you’ll discover Christian Kensington has more layers than that croissant we had for breakfast.” She held out her hand to me, pulling me out of the water. “Either way, better than spending the rest of your life selling wedding dresses to other women, isn’t it?”

Later that night, as I dried my hair in the guest room, Annabelle’s words kept echoing in my mind. Live every day like it’s real.

It was ridiculous advice, of course. Dangerous, even. Pretending my marriage to Christian was real would only pave the way for disappointment later, for heartbreak when the six months ended and we went back to our separate lives.

But as I got ready for bed on the eve of my wedding, I couldn’t stop the small, treacherous thought that crept into my m

what if…?