Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 65

The voice sliced through the air like a knife, instantly shattering the intimacy that had built between us. Christian stiffened beside me, his entire body going rigid. When I turned, I came face to face with the familiar figure of Francesca Montgomery.

She was as stunning as ever: perfectly tousled waves of dark hair, sun-bronzed skin, a summer dress that looked deceptively simple but no doubt cost a fortune. Her smile didn’t reach the calculating eyes that assessed

“Francesca,” Christian greeted, his voice reverting to that cold, controlled tone I’d rarely heard since arriving in Valentia. “What a surprise to see you here.”

She laughed, a musical sound laced with false charm.

“Surprise? You know very well my family always spends summers here, Christian. Just as yours does.” Her gaze flicked to me. “Zoey, darling, how lovely to see you again. The wedding was so… unusual. I barely had a chance to speak with you.”

“Francesca,” I replied with a nod. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’

“Valentian summers are a family tradition,” she said, stepping closer. “Christian surely remembers a few we enjoyed together, don’t you, amore?”

Christian remained impassive, but I could feel the tension radiating off him.

“That was a long time ago,” he said curtly.

“Not that long.” Francesca’s smile curved, her eyes never leaving his. “Remember this very festival, last year? That night in my family’s wine cellar?”

A muscle ticked in Christian’s jaw.

“How could I forget?” he shot back, his voice icy. “It was the same night I found Kensington files on your computer.”

Her smile faltered briefly before returning.

“Details, details. Business aside, we always had something special.”

“That’s over, Francesca,” Christian said firmly. “As you well know, I’m married now.”

“Yes, such a sudden marriage.” Her eyes slid back to me, scanning me head to toe. “I barely knew her name, and suddenly you’re at the altar with her.” (1

“When you meet the right person, there’s no reason to wait,” I said, threading my fingers deliberately through Christian’s.

Francesca laughed, the sound sharp as shattering glass.

“How romantic. And you came to Castoria, exactly where we used to spend our summers. What a… coincidence.”

“I think you’re the one who came here just to provoke,” I shot back. “It won’t work.”

Her eyes narrowed, the mask of civility slipping for a fraction of a second.

Before she could answer, an elderly man hurried over, speaking in rapid-fire Valentian. I caught only a few words-barrels, problem, ceremony.

Christian frowned, replying fluently before turning to me.

“There’s a problem with the wine barrels for the main ceremony,” he explained. “I need to help.”

“Go,” I encouraged, squeezing his hand. “I know how much this festival means to the community.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promised, hesitating as his eyes flicked to Francesca.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I reassured him with a smile.

Christian nodded and followed the man, disappearing into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Francesca dropped all pretense of politeness.

I felt my face drain of color, but forced my composure.

“Our marriage has no expiration date, Francesca.”

She threw her head back and laughed.

“Darling, don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve known the Kensingtons long enough to understand how they operate. “She smoothed a perfect strand of hair. “Let me guess… six months? A year at most?”

My silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“You know what fascinates me most?” she went on, circling me like a predator. “That you actually seem to believe something real is happening. I saw the way you looked at him. Almost made me pity you.”

“I don’t need your pity,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.

“Of course not.” She smiled, but her eyes remained cold. “And do you know why? Because he always comes back to me in the end. Always.”

Something in her certainty made my stomach sink, but I refused to show it.

“Things have changed.”

“Changed?” Her perfectly arched brow lifted. “I cheated on Christian. I stole from him. I humiliated him publicly. And yet, every time we cross paths, I see it in his eyes-the feeling is still there.” She leaned in, whispering as though confiding a secret. “He’ll never forget me. Because we were each other’s first. This place, these summers-that’s us. You’re just… a pause. A temporary obligation.”

Her words pierced like darts, finding insecurities I hadn’t even known I carried.

“When the old man dies and your little contract ends, you’ll go back to your mediocre life selling wedding dresses. And Christian will go back where he belongs.” She shrugged elegantly. “At my side. That’s how it always ends.”