Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 92 Christian's P.O.V I tried to keep a neutral expression as I listened to the investor's endless monologue about export tariffs and customs regulations. Under normal circumstances, this kind of conversation would have my full attention after all, expansion into the Ascian market was one of the pillars of my plan for Kensington. But my eyes kept roaming the hall, searching for Zoey's burgundy dress. "So, Mr. Kensington, what do you think of our proposal about alternative ports?" asked Fletcher, the eldest of the investors. I forced my mind back to the conversation.

"It's an interesting suggestion. We can go over the details tomorrow in the formal meeting." I smiled politely, hoping the generic answer would suffice. Fortunately, Fletcher seemed satisfied, nodding solemnly before sipping his whisky. I took the pause to scan the room again. Finally, I spotted her near one of the windows. She wasn't alone. Anthony was gesturing animatedly as he spoke, his body leaning toward her in a way that looked suggestive even from a distance.

Zoey's body language was unmistakably defensive-tense shoulders, rigid posture, that slight furrow in her brow I had already learned to recognize as a sign of discomfort. A wave of irritation went through me. Anthony had always struggled with boundaries, especially when it came to attractive women. The fact that Zoey was my wife probably only made the situation more tempting for him. "Mr. Kensington, is everything all right?" asked Easton, the youngest of the investors, noticing my distraction.

"Perfectly." I adjusted my tie, which was a gesture I'd developed to buy myself time when I needed to gather my thoughts. "Just watching how the event is flowing. Zoey's first big reception as hostess." Fletcher smiled, turning to observe the room. "Your wife is charming. Young, but with remarkable presence." "Yes, she is," my response was automatic, but sincere. When I looked back toward Zoey, she was gone, leaving Anthony looking faintly irritated. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." I inclined my head apologetically.

wasn't feeling well. Maybe she stepped away." I frowned, concerned. Zoey wasn't the type to disappear from an event without a word unless she was truly unwell. "I'll go find her." "Want me to handle the farewells?" Marcus offered, surprisingly quick. "That would help." I

discreetly, avoiding the curious stares of lingering guests. I checked the library and a few adjacent rooms, but there was no sign of Zoey. Finally, I decided she must have retired to the bedroom. I still had to spend another hour handling farewells with the most important guests, making sure my grandfather was comfortably settled in his quarters, and going over the

Zoey lay there, apparently asleep. Her face, half-visible in the faint light, looked pale, with dark shadows beneath her eyes. I showered quickly and slipped into bed beside her, trying not to disturb her. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. Her hair spilled across the pillow, a few strands falling over her face. I brushed them back gently, allowing myself a moment of tenderness

was undeniably attractive. It was something deeper -an authenticity, a quiet strength disguised as vulnerability. She didn't fit into my world, and

to Anthony and the investors. I had to be rested and alert. I woke with a start at a noise coming from the bathroom. The light filtering through the blinds showed it was already morning, later than I usually woke up. The bed beside me was empty, the sheets cold. Another sound-unmistakable this time. Someone was retching. I got up quickly, worry propelling me faster than I would normally move just after waking.