Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 64 +25 Bonus The Valentian sun was already high when I opened my eyes, golden rays streaming through the half-drawn curtains. My hand instinctively searched the other side of the bed, finding only cool sheets. Christian was gone. On the nightstand, a neatly folded piece of paper caught my eye. I recognized Christian's precise handwriting immediately. 'Had to take care of some matters at the vineyard. I'll be back for lunch. Feel free to explore the property. Lucy will help with anything you need. - C.' I sighed, caught somewhere between relief and disappointment.

The almost-intimacy in the vineyards last night, the awkwardness in the kitchen, and that quiet promise was a lot to process. I took a long shower, letting the hot water loosen the tension in my muscles. Then I slipped into a light cotton dress. Thankfully, I had plenty of those from Virelia, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Lucy was humming a Valentian tune I didn't recognize while preparing something that smelled divine. Her face lit up when she saw me. "Buongiorno, ma'am!" she exclaimed, gesturing for me to sit. "Coffee?" "Yes, please. Grazie," I answered with my limited Valentian.

She placed a strong cup of coffee in front of me along with fresh rolls, butter, and homemade jam. As I ate, she chatted away in Valentian, not minding at all that I couldn't follow. Her presence was strangely comforting. When I finished, Lucy took my hand and led me through the villa, speaking and gesturing in a way that, surprisingly, I began to follow by context. She showed me rooms I hadn't seen the night before-a library with shelves that reached the ceiling, a sitting room with enormous windows overlooking the vineyards, a terrace covered with flowering vines.

In each space, she pointed to old silver-framed photographs, telling me Kensington family stories in a torrent of Valentian. I didn't need a full translation to understand. In many photos, I recognized a dark-haired, serious- eyed boy who could only be Christian. One especially charming picture showed him around eight years old, holding a bunch of grapes nearly as big as his head, grinning broadly-a smile I rarely saw in the man he had become.

more as a child?" I asked slowly, miming a grin to make myself clear. Lucy seemed to understand. Her face grew briefly sad. She pointed to another photo-Christian with Joseph and a woman who must have been Sophie-then

chest. It was easy to forget that behind Christian's controlled façade was a boy once wounded by neglect. I'd glimpsed that pain in

heard a car pull up outside. Moments later, Christian came in, looking more relaxed than I had ever seen him in Verdania. He wore dark trousers and a simple rolled-sleeve shirt, casual in a way

answered animatedly before leaving us. "I hope she didn't share anything too embarrassing," he said, stepping closer. "Nothing I could fully understand, unfortunately." I smiled, then grew more serious. "She seems to really care about you. Like a grandmother."

the subject, "tonight there's a Harvest Festival in the nearby village. It's a local tradition. Would you like to go?" "Harvest Festival? In July?" "In Castoria, every village has its own calendar of celebrations that goes back centuries," Christian explained. " This one is based on a medieval tradition-it has nothing to do with the actual harvest. There's music, local food, dancing... Nothing

wear." The festival was in full swing by the time we arrived in the little village at sunset. Narrow stone streets were strung with colorful pennants, and torches lit the central square, where local musicians played traditional instruments. Long wooden tables were set up outdoors, where entire families shared meals and wine. Christian greeted people as we passed, introducing me as his wife with a pride that felt almost