Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71

The navy-blue dress I found in the suite’s wardrobe was stunning-an elegant Valentino design with an asymmetrical cut that draped perfectly over my body. Christian had provided a complete wardrobe for me, anticipating any possible social occasion. What he hadn’t anticipated was that his own mother would be the occasion to fear.

I adjusted the delicate necklace at my throat, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. From bridal shop assistant to hostess of a dinner for the Valentian wine elite.

Christian entered the room, immaculate in his dark suit. The look in his eyes when he saw me sent warmth rushing through me, momentarily pushing back my nerves.

“You look breathtaking,” he said, stepping close to brush a soft kiss across my lips.

“I’m terrified,” I confessed, straightening his pocket square. “I learned the basics about wine working at Sunvale, but that was more marketing and PR. I don’t know if it’s enough to impress people who’ve lived and breathed viticulture for generations. I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

“You could never make a fool of yourself,” he assured me, cupping my face in his hands. “And I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

We went down together to the great hall, where Isabelle had somehow organized a reception worthy of an embassy in less than a day. Fresh flowers adorned elegantly set tables, waiters moved among the guests with trays of white wine, and a small orchestra played Valentian classical music in the background. Around forty people mingled in clusters, the refined murmur of conversation falling silent for a moment as we entered.

“Showtime,” Christian whispered in my ear, his hand steady at my back.

The hours that followed were a test of my nerves. I was introduced to more winemakers, importers, critics, and sommeliers than I could possibly count. I tried desperately to memorize names, estates, special vintages, and alliances, but it all began to blur together in my mind.

From across the room, Isabelle observed with eagle eyes, noting every small mistake-a forgotten name, a misstep about a wine region, a comment about flavor that revealed my lack of expertise.

Despite my nerves, I gradually began to relax with Christian at my side. He was attentive, always ready to rescue me when a conversation veered too technical, and he seemed genuinely proud to introduce me as his wife.

We were speaking with an elderly couple who owned a neighboring winery when a stir at the entrance drew everyone’s attention.

“Christian!”

A young woman with long dark hair and wide eyes darted into the hall, ignoring the formal setting entirely. She couldn’t have been more than her early twenties, and there was something familiar in her radiant smile and the way she moved.

To my surprise, Christian’s face broke into a rare, public smile. He stepped forward, meeting her halfway, and the young woman practically threw herself into his arms in a joyful embrace. He lifted her slightly off the floor, spinning her once before setting her down again.

“I thought you were in Virelia!” he exclaimed in Maravinese, clearly for my benefit.

“And miss the chance to see Isabelle have an aneurysm from throwing an event together in less than twenty- four hours?” she laughed, a sound so infectious it drew smiles from those around. “Never!”

Then she turned to me, her curious, bright eyes studying me. There was a confidence in her gaze that reminded me of Christian, but with a vibrancy he rarely allowed himself to show.

“You must be Zoey,” she said, extending her hand. “Finally, someone interesting in this family!”

Christian’s hand pressed gently at my back, a genuine smile softening his features.

“Zoey, this is my sister, Gwen.”

My surprise must have shown, because she laughed again.

“The bastard, as Isabelle loves to call me when she thinks I’m not listening,” Gwen added, with not a trace of bitterness. “Isabelle hates me with every beat of her aristocratic heart.”

“Then we already have a lot in common,” I blurted before I could stop myself, clapping a hand over my mouth, eyes wide.

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