Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 66

The Castorian sun was setting behind the hills, painting the vineyards in golden and scarlet tones. I sat on the old stone wall that circled one of the villa’s terraces, idly turning the wine glass in my hand. Below, the valley stretched out like a perfect mosaic of vines, olive trees, and cypresses-a beauty that seemed to mock the chaos boiling inside me after my encounter with Francesca.

“I’ve known Christian since we were kids.”

Her words kept echoing in my mind. Another lie, another layer of secrets. I was tired of finding out that nothing was ever what it seemed when it came to Christian Kensington.

I heard footsteps approaching over the terrace stones and recognized his stride without needing to look. Christian stopped beside me, a sigh slipping from his lips before he sat on the wall, keeping a cautious distance between us.

“Sorry I left you alone with her,” he began, his voice low. “It wasn’t by choice.”

I took a sip of wine, letting the silence stretch between us. I wasn’t about to make things easier for him. Not this time.

“So,” I finally said, still not looking at him, “you and Francesca have known each other since childhood. Not for four years from some wine fair.”

It wasn’t a question. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders slump slightly.

“Zoey, I…”

“I’m tired of lies, Christian,” I cut him off, finally turning to face him. “Every day I discover something new about you that contradicts what you told me before. I’m starting to wonder if anything you’ve said since we met is true.”

He ran a hand through his hair-that gesture I already knew meant discomfort.

“Yes, we’ve known each other since we were kids,” he admitted at last. “Our families’ estates are next to each other. We grew up side by side.”

My grip on the glass tightened.

“Then tell me,” I challenged, locking my eyes on his, “what’s the big secret behind something so simple? Why pretend she was a stranger to you until recently?”

Christian turned his gaze toward the horizon, his face drowned in golden shadows.

“Because the truth… is ugly. And it hurts,” he said quietly. “It’s a story I tried to forget for so long that sometimes I almost manage to believe it never happened.”

“What story?” I asked, my throat tight.

He drew in a deep breath, as if gathering strength.

“Francesca and I weren’t just neighbors. We were childhood friends who became… more. As teenagers, we started a relationship. We were young, reckless, thought we could change the world.” His eyes softened in a way

I’d never seen before. “My mother, ironically, supported us. But our grandfathers… they were bitter rivals. They saw us being together as a betrayal of the family.”

I picked up my glass again, needing something to hold while I absorbed his revelation.

“When we were seventeen, Francesca got pregnant.”

It felt like the world stopped. Of all the things I had imagined, this one had never even made the list.

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