Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 87 The reflection in the mirror stared back at me with a mix of fascination and strangeness. The deep burgundy dress Christian and I had chosen in Serene Port fit perfectly, the delicate fabric accentuating curves I hadn't even realized I had. "You look stunning," Annabelle said, appearing behind me in the reflection. She wore a navy-blue dress with a daring neckline that would certainly hold Marcus's attention all evening. "Thank you. You look gorgeous too." I nervously adjusted one of the ruby earrings Christian had insisted I wear, heirlooms from the family collection.

"Do you think I'm overdoing it? The earrings seem...' "They seem exactly what they are: family jewels belonging to Christian Kensington's wife." Annie stepped closer, adjusting a strand of my hair. "Stop diminishing yourself. You belong here just as much as any of them." I sighed, wishing I had my sister's confidence. "This place intimidates me. This event, all these important people..." "It's just a dinner. You've survived worse." Annie shrugged.

"Remember when you had to give that presentation in college after staying up all night with food poisoning?" I laughed, recalling that disastrous episode. "How could I forget? I thought I was going to faint in the middle of the auditorium.' "And you still killed it." Annie squeezed my shoulder. "It'll be the same tonight. Smile, pretend to care when some boring old man starts talking about the '78 vintage, and stick close to Christian. Simple as that." A light knock on the door interrupted our conversation. Carmen, the housekeeper, appeared with her politely neutral expression. "Mrs.

I," I muttered, giving the mirror one last glance. On the way to the main hall, an unexpected wave of nausea hit me as we passed the corridor where staff were carrying trays of appetizers. The strong scent of cheese and truffles which

being prepared, oddly amplified and nauseating. I forced a smile, shoving the sensation to the back of my mind. I couldn't afford to look fragile

strains of a string quartet floated through the air, creating a sophisticated backdrop without smothering conversation. Christian stood at

of my dress. He excused himself from the guests he'd been speaking with and came straight to me, taking my hand and lifting it to his lips in an old-fashioned gesture that, from him, felt perfectly

hall. "Anthony and Victoria just arrived." Christian's cousins were exactly as I had imagined them-and at the same time, completely different. Anthony Kensington was the same height as Christian, but with a slimmer, almost aristocratic build. His features vaguely resembled Christian's-the same piercing eyes, though