Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 632 Nicholas' POV Christian's office was big, but not enormous. Longer than it was wide, with an entire glass wall overlooking Florentia and, at the center, a desk that felt less like a throne and more like a battlefield. An open laptop, a few stacked folders, a half-empty bottle of water. Nothing out of place. He was standing beside the desk, finishing a conversation with two people in suits. He didn't raise his voice, just wrapped it up bluntly. "Send me the revised projection by the end of the day. No spin." They both nodded quickly, gathered their papers, and left.

An assistant walked in, dropped off another folder, then left again. The door closed. It was just the three of us now: Christian, Dante, and me. Christian finally turned fully toward us. His eyes landed on me for a second, assessing, then shifted to Dante. "Interesting problem, huh?" he repeated what his cousin had said at the door. ---- Dante gave a half-smile. "| promise it's better than most of the ones you get by email." Christian took a deep breath, like he was accepting that his morning had just taken a different turn. "Alright," he said.

"You can drop the bomb and go, Dante." "With pleasure," Dante replied. He gave my shoulder a light pat." Good luck, almost cousin." Then he walked out, closing the door behind him. The silence that followed wasn't hostile. It was just... focused. Christian looked back at me. He didn't seem angry. Just busy. And curious. "If you're here," he began, walking around the side of the desk, " I'm assuming Gwen told you who she is." I nodded "She did." A quick expression-relief, maybe-crossed his face. "Good," he said, pulling out one of the meeting chairs and pointing to another.

me you're breaking up with my sister," he stated with the same calm someone might use to ask about the weather. | blinked. "Maybe | should," | replied after a moment. "But that's not why I'm here." "No?" he raised an eyebrow. "No. Because

do you want?" | swallowed. I'd repeated the answer in my head since the café, but now it felt too big. "Help me get the estate to a level where | don't feel like a burden in your sister's life," | said in one breath. "Not with charity. With ---- work." Something in his expression shifted slightly. His eyes flicked to the window for a second, then back to me. "Okay," he said. "And what exactly do you mean by 'level'?" I took a deep breath. "You know we have quality," | started. "You've tasted our wine. Seen the land. | might not be a numbers guy, but | know how to do what

back of my neck, searching for the next words. "| thought that... maybe... you could help us get into the places Kensington wines get into. Not to replace anything. Just to share a little

not because he needed them, but because it made it feel like he was about to open a map. ---- "First point: positioning," he began. "Kensington is premium. Not because we decided to be snobs, but because our entire structure was built on that." He looked at me. "Do you know how much wine we sell every

consistency. Same style, same profile, year after year. Two: volume. We can't disappear from one vintage to the next. Three: reputation. If something goes wrong, we're the ones who take the hit." He lowered his hand "You with me so far?" "Yes." ---- "How many bottles do you produce a year, Nick?"