Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 736

Chapter 736 Extra 5

Christian’s POV

The bar at Rosemonte Club had that carefully dim lighting that made every decision feel more thoughtful than it really was.

Dark wood. Leather. Glass polished to perfection. A piano playing softly in the background, like the music had been trained not to interrupt important conversations.

I was there because Marcus had dragged me out of my own echo.

After the jump, I’d come back down to earth with the ridiculous feeling that something had unlocked. Like, for a few seconds, I remembered I wasn’t made only of control.

Marcus sat across from me, already holding a drink, watching me with a kind of patience he didn’t use often.

Cousin patience.

The kind that knew you before the title.

“Alright,” he said, setting his glass down with a firm tap. “Now that we have drinks… say that again. Slowly.”

I watched the ice spin in my glass.

Watched the reflection of the lights in it like I might find the right answer there. The right phrasing. A less absurd version of

what I’d said out on that landing field.

There wasn’t one.

I looked up.

“I’m stepping down as CEO of Kensington.”

Marcus didn’t react right away. He just stared at me for a few seconds-long enough for the piano to hit two soft notes. Then he inhaled slowly, like he was trying not to explode.

“I think,” he said, his voice way too controlled, “we need stronger drinks.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“I know,” he said.

And the way he said “I know”–that’s what got me. Because he wasn’t mocking me.

He was worried.

I leaned back into the leather seat and dragged a hand over the back of my neck.

“I’m… bored,” I admitted. The word fell wrong coming out of a man who had everything. “And I’m tired of working this much.”

Marcus let out a low, almost offended laugh.

“Okay. Then take a vacation.”

“I know. Maybe…” I agreed, because the obvious answer is always there. The problem is, it rarely fixes what’s actually broken. But when I come back, it’ll all still be there. The same meetings, the same reports, the same people with the same problems, the same demands-like the entire world decided to depend on me to function.”

Marcus took a sip and grimaced.

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“That’s not it,” I cut in, because I didn’t want him turning this into a joke. Not when it was burning inside me. “I like what I do. I’ve always liked it. I’ve always been good at it. But… the last time I actually felt excited was with the organic line. That feeling of building something new. Taking a risk. Watching it grow. And now everything’s stable again. Everything’s… routine.”

The word came out with a hint of contempt.

Routine.

The same thing I called peace when I was with Zoey.

The same thing that, at work, felt like a cage.

Marcus leaned forward.

“First,” he said, counting on his fingers like he always did when he was about to be annoyingly logical, “you can’t do anything drastic.”

I almost smiled.

“What do you consider drastic? Because jumping out of a plane already was.”

“I’m talking about you stepping down,” he said firmly. “Second: Grandpa would kill you.”

I swirled my drink.

“Grandpa’s wanted to kill me before. I survived.”

Marcus pointed at me like I’d just handed him ammunition.

“Yeah, but not for this. Look around, Christian. I’m running the Sullivan Parks, Gwen just got married and had a baby…”

The mention of Gwen pulled a quick image into my mind. That look she had-the one that always said she knew exactly what she was doing, even when she was exhausted. She had this almost irritating ability to carry the weight of the world without complaining.

“…Mia is more interested in buying handbags and messing with Matthew,” Marcus went on with a resigned sigh, “so who exactly are you handing this role to? Dante?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Dante doesn’t even have experience,” Marcus added before I could say anything, like my silence alone was dangerous.

I leaned my elbow on the table.

“I have Nate.”

Marcus stared at me like he was about to explain something painfully obvious to a stubborn child.

“Have I mentioned Grandpa would kill you?”

“You have.”

“I’ll say it again. Nate might be your best friend, he might be brilliant, he might be carrying this company on his back right alongside you… but Grandpa would never allow someone who isn’t officially a Kensington to be CEO.”

I pressed my tongue against my teeth, annoyed.

It was true.

Grandpa wasn’t just tradition-he was structure. And worse, he had a radar for anything that even smelled like loss of control

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Marcus leaned back, studying me.

“And besides… maybe what you need is just… something new.”

I let out a breath through my nose, almost laughing.

“Like what? We already have everything.”

Marcus lifted a brow, like he was waiting for me to list it.

So I did. Because that’s what I do when I need to prove the problem is real.

“We have the premium line, we have the Valemont line, we have the organic line, we even have grape juice. There’s nowhere left to expand that would actually feel new. Unless we create something that—”

I stopped mid-sentence.

Not because I lost my train of thought.

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