Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Kensington Villa was lit only by the silver glow of the moon and the stars scattered across the Castorian sky. Our feet, still stained purple from grape juice, left marks along the stone path as we walked side by side, our shoulders brushing now and then.

“I’m ruined,” I said, glancing at my white dress now covered in violet stains. “I don’t think this will ever come out.”

Christian laughed, the sound easy and genuine.

“Think of it as an authentic Castorian keepsake,” he replied, his gaze running over me in a way that made me blush. “Besides, purple suits you.’

“Does it, really?” I teased, twirling to show off the full damage. “Maybe I’ll start incorporating wine stains into all my outfits from now on.”

“Just don’t let Isabelle find out,” he joked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “She’d have a heart attack if she knew the new Mrs. Kensington showed up in public looking like she rolled around in a barrel of Nebbiolo.”

“Your mother would have a heart attack just from knowing I’m breathing,” I shot back, earning another laugh from him.

By now, the night was deep, the silence broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of vines swaying in the breeze. As we neared the entrance to the estate, a sudden impulse took hold of me.

Instead of heading toward the house, I tugged Christian by the hand toward the vineyards. His eyes widened in surprise, but he let himself be led.

“Zoey?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

I stopped between two rows of vines, the moonlight casting patterns of light and shadow across the ground between us. I drew in a breath, gathering courage.

“I’ve been thinking about our… interruption last night,” I admitted, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Actually, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. The moon, the vineyards, you…”

Before I could lose my nerve, I stepped closer and pulled him into a kiss. Christian responded instantly, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him. His hands slid up my back, one tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.

For several minutes, we lost ourselves in each other, the sweet taste of wine still lingering on our lips. When his hands began to roam more boldly, trailing up my side, my heartbeat surged with anticipation.

Surprisingly, it was Christian who pulled back first, breathing hard.

“I want to show you something,” he said, his voice rough. “Something special.”

“Now?” I asked, confused and a little frustrated by yet another interruption.

“Now.” He gave me an enigmatic smile, lacing his fingers with mine. “Trust me.”

He led me to a small shed near the estate’s entrance, where he pulled out two old bicycles with wicker baskets on the front.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I laughed, looking at my stained dress and then at the bike.

“It’s the traditional way to get around here,” he assured me, adjusting the seat on one of them. “And the best way to get to where I want to take you.’

I was speechless, staring at the rows of young vines that now carried my name.

“But our marriage…” I began, not knowing how to finish.

“It’s real, for as long as it lasts,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “And these vines will remain, no matter what happens after.”

Something tightened in my chest. The idea that years after our contract ended, something with my name would still be growing here, bearing fruit, was strangely moving.

“I chose this specific variety because it reminds me of you,” he continued, stepping closer. “Like I said, tart at first, but with a hidden sweetness that only reveals itself to those patient enough to find it.”

Our eyes locked, and in that moment, all the complications of our arrangement-all the secrets and half-truths -seemed to fade away.

“In that case,” I said, stepping toward him, “I think we should christen this place properly, with what seems to be another Kensington family tradition.”

With a boldness I didn’t even know I had, I moved on him with determination, grabbing his shirt and yanking him so hard the buttons popped off, scattering across the vineyard floor.

“Oops,” I said, not the least bit sorry, running my hands over his now-bared chest. “Pretty sure I can’t afford that.”

Christian looked at me with a mix of surprise and growing desire, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice two octaves lower as he pulled me hard against him. “I’ll make you pay another way.”