Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 609

Chapter 609

Gwen’s POV

It was Christian standing in the doorway of my office.

Mia was the first to react. She shot up from her chair like she’d been electrocuted, hugged our cousin quickly, and before I could even process what was happening, she was already grabbing her phone and

purse.

“I just remembered I have a call with legal,” she announced dramatically. “Like… right now.”

As she passed him, she made a face and mouthed slowly at me: he’s mad.

Of course he was mad.

For him to leave Verdania, cross the ocean, and come talk to me in person? He was furious.

Damn it.

Christian closed the door behind him and only then turned fully toward me.

“I asked you for one thing,” he began without preamble. His voice was low, controlled, which was worse than yelling. “One. Don’t mix your personal life with Kensington business. You know that always ends badly, Gwen.”

I crossed my arms, more to hide the fact that my hands were shaking than out of defiance.

“It would’ve ended worse if I’d used my name,” I shot back, trying to sound reasonable. “At least this way

“At least this way you dragged the entire group into it,” he cut in. He stepped farther into the room and dropped a thick folder onto my desk. The KWJ Holdings logo stared back at me like an accomplice. “If you want to play savior to a bankrupt farmer, fine. That’s your business. But you didn’t burn your money, Gwen. You used a Kensington holding.”

I swallowed.

“I told you I’d reimburse it from my own funds,” I reminded him. “Kensington won’t take a loss. As soon as the operation is structured, I can-”

Christian laughed. Not amused. A short, disbelieving sound that made me want to crawl into a drawer

and shut it.

“You really think this is about wiring money back?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Sorry, board, I impulsively signed off on a 2.3 million dollar acquisition, but don’t worry, I’ll transfer it later’? You signed on behalf of a holding created specifically to protect the group’s strategic investments. You did it without board approval, without legal review, without anyone. That goes on the balance sheet, Gwen. It’s recorded in the minutes. It shows up in audits. In meetings with the banks. Everywhere.”

1/4

He opened the folder and slid several pages toward me.

Seventeen contracts. Seventeen people who now officially owed us money.

“Kensington now owns a portfolio of distressed debt,” he continued. “You know how banks see that? Risk. You know how rating agencies see that? Increased exposure to questionable debtors. And you know how the press would see it if someone decided to talk?” He looked up, locking eyes with me.”

Headline.”

I rolled my eyes, more out of self-defense than disbelief.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Oh, am I?” He braced both hands on my desk and leaned closer. “Let’s play newspaper. I’ll start.” Kensington Group buys debt from struggling families to profit from collections.’ Or maybe: ‘Kensington heiress uses family holding to rescue farmer she’s romantically involved with.’ Which one do you think gets more clicks?”

Heat flooded my face.

“It wasn’t because I’m-” I bit my tongue before finishing that sentence. I took a breath. “It was a good

deal.”

“Even if it were the best deal of the decade, it still needed approval,” he said sharply, pushing the papers aside. “You created a massive conflict of interest all by yourself.”

I sank back into my chair.

“I did what needed to be done,” I muttered. “If that package had gone to the wrong hands, he would’ve lost everything. The farm. The house. Jobs for multiple families. You know how those funds operate.

You know that-”

“I know,” he cut in, softer now but no less firm. “And precisely because I know, I would’ve found another way. One that didn’t involve you sprinting out of Florentia to sign a credit assignment in some small- town bank like it was a movie scene.”

He sighed, straightened up, and ran a hand through his hair. That familiar gesture he used when he was actively trying not to explode.

“Now I have to have every single one of these debts analyzed,” he continued. “Who these people are. What their real situation is. Whether it makes sense to collect, renegotiate, forgive, or enforce. And you know what happens if, in the middle of all that, it leaks that Kensington is foreclosing on a struggling farmer’s land while selling hundred-dollar bottles of wine?”

I knew. I could practically see it. Protests. Hashtags. Furious threads online. Videos of people smashing our bottles in the street.

“I can publicly assume it as a personal investment if necessary,” I tried. “We say it was a structural mistake, that the operation was transferred to one of my own companies. I can-”

2/4

“And you think that erases the paper trail?” He stopped and looked straight at me.

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing solid came out.

Because he was right.

And I knew he was right.

Which only made me angrier.

The room went quiet for a few seconds. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

He took a slow breath and braced both hands on the edge of my desk again.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did, even though I didn’t want to.

“I understand why you did it,” he said, and beneath the steel there was something softer. Something only I knew how to read. “I really do. I understand you better than anyone in this family. But understanding doesn’t mean I agree. And it doesn’t mean it’s okay.”.

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

“Our job is to protect this group,” he went on. “The wineries. The employees. The partners. The name you

profit. I don’t doubt you. But you understand that the story they’ll tell about this is already written in a way that

hurts us.”

carry. You might see opportunity in the garbage you bought. You might even turn part of it into

“Then rewrite the story,” I shot back. “Say I saw opportunity where everyone else saw trash. That I bought risk and turned it into profit. Isn’t that what you do all day?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a tired almost-smile.

“The difference, Gwen,” he said, and the sentence fell between us like a verdict, “is that I don’t fall in love

with my assets.”

The silence that followed felt solid. Heavy. I swallowed, unsure whether I wanted to throw something at him or sink to the floor and cry.

Before I could decide, I heard a discreet throat clear at the door.

I turned immediately,

Zoey was leaning against the doorframe, looking both offended and amused, like she’d been standing there long enough to hear more than she should have.

“Well, I fall in love with mine,” she declared, walking in with the confidence of someone who had long ago stopped apologizing for existing. “Or rather… with mine. Ever since I bought a certain gigolo.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. The tension in the room cracked, at least on my side.

3/4

Zoey walked straight to me and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Hi, sister-in-law.”

I felt Christian roll his eyes behind her, but when he spoke, the iron in his voice had softened.

“Zoey,” he warned gently, “this isn’t personal.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” she shot back, turning to him with her hands on her hips. “You’re siblings. You’re going to stop fighting right now. I’m a mom. I’m very used to putting people in time-out. Do you both want to sit in opposite corners facing the wall?”

The image of the CEO of Kensington and the COO of Kensington Valentia being treated like two misbehaving children was so ridiculous that even Christian lost it.

He laughed out loud. And just like that, half my guilt loosened.

“I’m going to have to lock this woman in the house when I travel for meetings,” he said, looking at me but tilting his chin toward her. “Or she’ll destroy my reputation.”

Zoey shrugged, stepped closer to him, and rose on her toes to kiss the side of his neck. She knew exactly what that did to him.

Then she turned back to me, her eyes sparkling.

“So,” she said brightly, as if nothing heavy had just happened in this room, “Mia mentioned something

about a dinner…?”

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