Hired a Gigolo Got a Billionaire (Zoey and Christian) novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

The silence that followed had a special quality, as if we were suspended in that moment beneath the stars, with no past and no future. Just the two of us and that shared vulnerability. Of all the things Christian had shown me-the villa, the vineyards, the centuries-old cellars-this place, this moment, felt the most intimate.

“Do you come here often?” I asked at last, breaking the quiet.

“Whenever I can.” He was still gazing at the sky, but I sensed his mind had drifted elsewhere. “Less than I’d like. Business takes up too much time.”

“The winery.”

“Yes.” A sigh. “The pressure never lets up. My grandfather thinks m ready to take full control, but Lawrence and Isabelle have other ideas. The board is divided.”

“Because of the organic project?” I asked, recalling what Gwen had mentioned.

Christian turned his head sharply, his gaze suddenly alert.

“How do you know about that?”

w was a flicker of suspicion in his voice that I didn’t miss.

“Gwen mentioned it,” I explained quickly. “During our lessons. She showed me that old ledger in the cellar.”

Vineyard Book.” His expression eased a little, but not completely. “Gwen talks too much.”

“She was just trying to help me understand the family business better.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“There are things that need to stay inside the company, Zoey.” Histone was gentle, but there was a firmness beneath it. “The organic project is… delicate. Especially considering your past experience.”

“My past experience?”

“At Sunvale.” He said the name like it tasted faintly bitter. “A direct competitor.”

A chill twisted in my stomach.

“Christian, I worked in PR. I have no interest in-‘

“Sorry,” he cut me off, running a hand over his face. “I’m being paranoid. It’s just that… this project means a lot to me. It’s my vision for Kensington’s future. And I’ve been… betrayed… before.”

Francesca. It was always Francesca. Her shadow seemed to stretch over us even miles away.

“I understand,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral, though the insinuation had stung. “But now that I know… couldn’t you at least tell me more? I am genuinely interested.”

He hesitated, then slowly nodded.

“It’s a reconversion project. We want to transform at least a third of the vineyards into fully organic production within five years.

His eyes

lit

up as he spoke, passion shining through. “No pesticides, no herbicides, fermentation with wild yeasts. Wine made

the way it was centuries ago.”

“That sounds… revolutionary.”

“And risky.” He sat up, pouring more wine into our glasses. “The initial profit margins are lower. The first harvests see more losses. Lawrence thinks it’s just a romantic whim of mine.”

“And you?” I asked, accepting the glass he handed me. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s the future.” He stared into the ruby liquid in his glass. But more than that, I think it’s the right thing to do. For the planet, for the land that has sustained our family for generations.

It was fascinating to see him like this completely immersed in his passion.

“What inspired you?” I asked.

His gaze drifted into the distance.

“Definitely.” His tone was light, but I caught the undercurrent of relief.

Gathering courage, I asked, “And us? Do you have plans for… after

There was a lot of weight in that after. The end of our arrangement. The end of six months.

Christian was silent for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer.

“I never thought much beyond the winery,” he said finally. “It’s always been my priority. My purpose. Building something for the future, even if…”

“Even if what?” I prompted when he trailed off.

“Even if there’s no one to inherit it.”

Something cold settled in my chest.

“You don’t want… children?” The question slipped out in almost a whisper.

Christian turned his gaze away, fixing it on some far-off point in the vineyards below.

“I learned early that business and families rarely mix well. Lawrence and Isabelle are the perfect example.” His voice had a distant quality. “I don’t want to have a child just to fulfill some dynastic expectation. To hand down a name or a company. The way I was raised.”

“But not all parents are like yours,” I argued softly. “Some families are… different.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, a gesture that betrayed the casualness he tried to project. “But the business world is ruthless, Zoey. I see what it does to relationships, to families. I see what it did to my parents. I’m not sure I want to risk passing that along.”

His words hit me with a finality that left me breathless. It wasn’t a direct rejection of the idea of children, but it was clear they weren’t part of the future he envisioned.

And for some reason, it hurt more than it should have. After all, our marriage had an expiration date. Any thought of children was absurd.

“It’s getting late,” Christian said, glancing at his watch. “We should head back. We’ve got a few busy days ahead before returning to Verdania.”

As we packed the basket and dismantled the telescope, a strange melancholy washed over me. The night had begun like a fairytale, but it ended with the harsh reminder that reality and fantasy rarely align.