Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 67

As we walked back to the festival, a comfortable silence settled between us. The revelations about Christian’s past with Francesca still weighed on my mind, but somehow, I felt he had truly opened up to me, showing a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.

The village’s central square was even livelier now, lit by hundreds of colorful lanterns strung between centuries- old buildings. A local band played traditional Valentian music, and the aroma of regional food mingled with the sweet scent of ripe grapes.

“Do you still want to stay?” Christian asked, his cautious look suggesting he half-expected me to want to return to the villa after our conversation.

“Yes,” I answered with more firmness than I’d anticipated. “I’m not letting anything ruin our night.”

A genuine smile lit up his face-that rare kind that reached his eyes and softened his features.

“In that case, I think we arrived just in time,” he said, pointing toward a small crowd gathering around a huge wooden vat. “It’s almost time for the pigiatura.”

“The pi-what?”

“Pigiatura. The tradition of stomping grapes with your feet to make wine,” he explained, guiding me through the crowd with a hand at my waist. “An old practice hardly anyone keeps anymore, but at this festival it’s preserved as part of the celebration.”

When we got closer, I saw the vat brimming with plump, dark grapes. An elderly man in a straw hat was speaking animatedly in Valentian, gesturing toward the audience.

“He’s saying that, as every year, we need a couple to begin the pigiatura,” Christian translated, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Traditionally, it has to be a couple in love, to bring luck to the harvest.”

Before I could process what was happening, people around us started pointing and calling out, their eyes fixed on us.

“Kensington! Kensington e sua sposa!” several voices cheered.

“What’s going on?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat as every gaze in the square turned toward us.

“They want us to be this year’s couple,” Christian said, looking almost shy-an expression I had never seen on his face before. “Do you mind?”

I hesitated only a second.

“Why not?” I replied with a smile. “When in Rome, do as…”

“Actually, we’re in Castoria,” he teased with a half-smile, as the crowd practically pushed us toward the vat in their excitement.

The old man welcomed us warmly, showering us with rapid Valentian. Christian replied in the same language, and soon the crowd erupted in applause.

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