Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 43 Christian's words kept pounding in my head as I got ready to leave. "It's not like she's really the kind of woman for someone in my position." Each syllable was a small wound reopening, over and over again. I dressed carefully-dark jeans, a tailored blazer, and a simple blouse. Not what I would have worn if I were still representing Sunvale, but enough to blend in at the event without drawing attention. My plan was simple: go to the complex, check if Kensington's presentation went smoothly, and then leave. No confrontations, no drama.

Just the confirmation that my warning about the sabotage had worked. I took a taxi to the convention center, watching the Highridge Valley landscape roll by through the window. The irony wasn't lost on me-how such a beautiful place could be the backdrop to so much pain. The driver, sensing my silence, kept quiet for the whole ride. By the time I arrived, the event was already in full swing. Colorful booths, people circulating with glasses of wine, sommeliers explaining notes and textures...

It felt almost surreal to be there now as an anonymous spectator, without a badge, without responsibilities. But the truth was, I didn't like it. It felt hollow. And I hadn't even started facing the reality that I was unemployed and might soon have to beg for my old job selling wedding dresses again. I kept to the shadows, slipping discreetly around the edges of the hall. I spotted Lisa, my former assistant, looking overwhelmed as she tried to coordinate something at the Sunvale booth. A pang tugged at my chest. Guilt, maybe? I hadn't had the chance to explain to her why I left so abruptly.

most elegant and sophisticated at the event. In contrast to Sunvale's over-the-top splash of colors, Kensington leaned into earthy tones, fine wood, and soft lighting, evoking the atmosphere of their

eyes met across the crowded hall, and for an instant, the world around us seemed to disappear. Something flickered in his eyes-surprise, confusion, and maybe... remorse? I was the first to look away, retreating behind a column. My heart was racing, and I had to take several deep breaths to steady myself. I came here for a

minutes in the auditorium. I followed the small crowd making its way there, keeping to the back rows, almost hidden in the shadows. The minutes ticked by slowly as the auditorium filled. I saw Marcus coordinating the tech team, checking final details. Christian stood at the corner of the stage, reviewing something on his tablet, completely focused. Now and then, his gaze swept across the audience, as if searching for

time. Christian took the microphone with the ease of someone born for the spotlight. His voice carried effortlessly through the auditorium as he spoke about Kensington's history, their traditional methods, and the innovation they sought for the future. The multimedia worked flawlessly, with no sign of technical glitches. Elegant slides complemented his words, videos of the vineyards conveyed the unique atmosphere of the estate. My warning

a second, he faltered -an almost imperceptible pause to most, but unmistakable to me. Then he continued as if nothing had happened, his tone professional and controlled. I waited until the end of the Q&A before slipping out discreetly. My mission was accomplished-the