Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 618

Chapter 618

Nicholas’ POV

The next morning, I pulled two old bikes out of the shed. Christian had accepted my invitation to see the vineyards up close, and I was more nervous than I cared to admit.

As nice as he’d seemed at dinner, he was still Gwen’s older brother. Protective. And after the disaster the night before, with my ex-wife barging in and turning everything tense and ugly, I couldn’t help worrying about the impression that had left.

Did he think my life was a mess? That I brought too much trouble into Gwen’s world?

“Ready?” I asked, adjusting the handlebars on one of the bikes.

Christian smiled and grabbed the other one with easy confidence. “Always.”

We rode down the dirt path between the rows of vines, the morning sun still soft and golden. The air was crisp, carrying that familiar scent of damp soil and fresh green leaves.

Christian pedaled beside me, his gaze sweeping over everything with genuine focus. It wasn’t the distracted glance of a tourist snapping pictures.

“Sangiovese?” he asked, like he was confirming something he already knew.

“Yeah,” I said, impressed he could tell just by looking. “Pretty much everything here is Sangiovese.”

He stopped his bike and got off to take a closer look. He brushed his fingers over the leaves, studied the clusters just beginning to form, and checked the spacing between the vines.

“The terroir here is interesting,” he said. “Limestone soil, good drainage. That’s gold for Sangiovese.”

I blinked at him, surprised by the technical depth. “You really know your wine.”

“A little,” he replied modestly.

We kept riding, heading down toward the older sections of the property. Christian asked about pruning techniques, irrigation schedules, pest management. Not casual questions. Informed ones.

“Funny,” I said after a while, “Gwen knows a lot about wine too. Is that a family thing or something?”

He hesitated for the briefest second before answering.

“Something like that,” he said lightly, though it was clear he didn’t want to go into detail.

I figured that was the end of it. But after a few minutes of comfortable silence, the only sounds our tires crunching against gravel, he added, “Our grandfather owns a property in Castoria. Some vineyards too. Nothing unusual for someone who grows up around farmland here.”

I nodded, letting that sink in. It made sense. It explained the knowledge, the interest, the easy familiarity

with it all.

1/4

We stopped at the highest point on the property, where you could see nearly the entire stretch of vineyards below. Christian got off his bike and looked around, thoughtful.

“Have you ever considered organic certification?” he asked. “With this size, it would be doable. And the market pays a lot better.”

“I have,” I admitted. “But the conversion’s expensive. If something goes wrong in the middle of the process, I’m stuck without a harvest and without income.”

He nodded, not even slightly offended by my honesty. “True. It’s a risk. But you could do it in phases. Start with a smaller section. Test it. Learn from it. Document everything so when you’re ready to apply for official certification, you’re already halfway there.”

I spent the next half hour listening to practical, surprisingly useful suggestions.

“You’re doing good work here,” he said at last. “Especially with limited resources. A few small adjustments in management and these grapes could yield a lot more.”

I smiled, a little self-conscious.

“Our vineyards are simple,” I said honestly. “But they carry history. My mother always says this land is the soul of our family. If we lose it, we lose everything.”

Christian went quiet for a moment, studying the view with that thoughtful expression again.

“Have you ever considered lightening the weight without losing the soul?” he asked finally.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not talking about selling the whole property,” he continued. “I’m talking about joining a larger group. Bringing in a big name as a partner. Making Valemont a label within a stronger portfolio. You stay here. Your name stays on the bottle. But there’s a powerful last name behind it, holding up the financial

structure.”

I ran my hand along the trunk of one of the oldest vines, almost like I was soothing it.

“I’ve seen what those big groups do when they get their hands on small land like this,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “They promise support, but in the end, they only care about their bottom line. They standardize everything. Strip away the identity. And when they’re done, maybe the place makes more money… but it’s not the same. It’s not ours anymore.”

Christian didn’t respond right away. After a few seconds, he reached out, plucked a nearly ripe grape, and popped it into his mouth, thinking.

“Yeah, maybe,” he admitted. “A lot of big players only see numbers.”

He chewed slowly, his gaze sweeping across the rows of vines.

“But sometimes you find people who are just as passionate about this as you are. People who understand it’s not just grapes. It’s history, Family, Identity,”

2/4

For a second, I thought he was defending some investor. Some client.

But the more I thought about it, the more obvious it became.

He wasn’t talking about a company.

He was talking about his sister.

About Gwen.

About the life he probably believed I couldn’t give her.

I straightened my shoulders, that familiar mix of wounded pride and quiet insecurity rising in whenever someone spoke like they understood my reality better than I did.

my

chest

“Look,” I began, turning fully toward him, “I know you worry about what your sister’s getting herself into.”

He didn’t interrupt. Just watched me, waiting.

I swallowed but didn’t back down.

“If Gwen chooses to stay in my life, I’ll give everything I have to make sure she has the life she deserves. I’ll never let her lack what I can truly give. Respect. Loyalty. A home. People who genuinely care.”

The words came out heavier than I’d planned. It was supposed to be a casual reassurance to an overprotective brother. Instead, it sounded like a vow.

“I don’t worry about anyone’s ability to ‘provide’ for my sister,” he said calmly, and somehow that calm felt more dangerous than yelling. “Gwen is more than capable of building the life she wants and deserves on her own. What concerns me is that, for reasons I don’t fully understand yet, the life she wants right now is one that includes you.”

The air caught in my chest.

He raised a hand in a peaceful gesture. “Don’t get me wrong. I like you. I really do. It’s obvious you love this place. You love your family. You love Bella. That counts for a lot.”

My shoulders loosened a little, but not enough to feel comfortable. Not with the sense of being carefully

evaluated.

Then he smiled. Not a polite photo smile. A smile that said he meant what came next.

“But,” he added, “if you break my sister’s heart, Nicholas, I’ll make sure I become the kind of problem you

don’t want to have.”

I swallowed but held his gaze.

“You don’t have to worry,” I said, more serious than I’d intended. “That won’t happen. If Gwen ever cries because of me, I want it to be because life turned out better than she imagined. Not because I was a

coward.”

3/4

He studied me for a long second, as if weighing every word.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Good,” he said at last. “Then we have an understanding. You take good care of her… and you gain a brother-in-law you can count on for the rest of your life.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and laughed, relief finally breaking through.

“That’s a deal I’ll sign without reading the fine print.”

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