Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 70

Chapter 70

I woke to the warmth of the Castorian sun on my face, a sharp contrast to the cool morning breeze. For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, soaking in the peacefulness wrapping around me. Christian’s body was pressed against mine, his heat a comforting shield against the world. Then I noticed something strange-voices. Several voices, speaking rapid Valentian, close by.

My eyes flew open, panic crashing over me like a bucket of cold water. We were still in the vineyard, completely exposed! A quick movement beside me told me Christian was already awake. He had tossed his torn shirt over me, covering me only barely.

“Good morning,” he said, sounding annoyingly calm for someone who’d just been caught sleeping naked in the middle of his vineyard by his workers.

“Christian!” I hissed, tugging the shirt higher to cover more of myself. “There are people here!”

He smiled, a half-amused grin that, in any other situation, would have melted me on the spot.

“Yes, I noticed. The workers arrive at dawn to tend the vines.”

“And you’re perfectly fine with this?” I demanded, mortified, as I tried to spot my lingerie and dress without revealing more of myself.

“After their initial shock when they saw us, no one dared come closer,” he replied, running a hand through his tousled hair. “They’re actually keeping a respectful distance.”

I craned my neck and saw he was right. A few rows away, men and women worked quietly among the vines, deliberately avoiding looking in our direction.

“Why didn’t you wake me so we could leave?” I asked, still struggling to process just how humiliating this was.

Christian reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face with surprising tenderness.

“Because you were sleeping so peacefully,” he said simply. “I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.”

Something in his gaze disarmed me completely. He seemed different this morning-more open, more vulnerable somehow.

“I was dreaming,” I admitted, heat rising up my neck. “Something good.”

“With me in it, I hope,” he teased, leaning closer.

“Maybe,” I replied, stealing a quick kiss and momentarily forgetting how compromising our situation was. “But I think we need to get dressed and head back.”

Christian nodded, but before standing, he called out loudly in Valentian, utterly unbothered by his half-naked state. His authoritative voice echoed through the vineyard, and at once, the workers moved even farther away.

“What did you just say?” I asked, seizing the chance to grab my clothes.

“Just that we need a few minutes of privacy,” he said, slipping back into his pants with his usual elegance. “And that there will be a generous bonus for anyone who keeps this incident to themselves.”

I couldn’t help laughing nervously as I slipped into my lingerie and tried to restore some dignity to my wine- and dirt-stained dress.

“You really never lose your composure, do you?” I asked, watching him button his shirt as effortlessly as if nothing had happened.

“Not in public,” he replied, his intense look reminding me that last night, in my arms, his composure had completely unraveled.

The walk back to the villa was surprisingly lighthearted. We left the bicycles behind, choosing instead to stroll hand in hand. Every so often, we traded glances and smiles carrying the memory of the night before.

But the moment we reached the entrance of the estate, my good mood evaporated. Isabelle Kensington was standing on the veranda, perfectly dressed despite the relatively early hour, her aristocratic face set in calculated disdain.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, her cold gaze sweeping over our disheveled state. “We were wondering where you had spent the night.”

“Forty people is nothing elaborate?” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Isabelle turned her razor-sharp eyes on me.

“For Kensington standards, dear, that’s practically an intimate gathering,” she replied with feigned gentleness. “Naturally, you will be the hostess.”

My stomach dropped. I could barely tell red wine from white, and now I was supposed to host forty Valentian wine experts?

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. I hardly know the local customs and-”

“Precisely why this event is so important,” she cut me off. “As the new Mrs. Kensington, you have obligations to fulfill.”

Christian stepped forward, partially placing himself between us.

“Mother, this is-”

“Dinner will be at eight. I suggest you both be ready.” Her gaze fell once more on my wine- and dirt-stained dress. “And you, Zoey-wear something more… appropriate.”

With a final icy smile, she turned and swept back up the veranda steps, leaving us in tense silence.

“She’s trying to humiliate me,” I murmured once Isabelle disappeared into the house.

Christian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyes, which only moments ago had been light and carefree, now burned with an intensity that surprised me.

“We’ll face her together,” he said, squeezing my hand in his. “And maybe even have a little fun with it.”