Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 412 Madeline's POV After lunch, Marcus invited me to take a walk through the olive groves that stretched across the entire property. It was a perfect Castorian morning. Sunlight filtered softly through the silvery leaves of the olive trees, creating a delicate dance of light and shadow on the packed earth between the perfectly aligned rows. The air was cool and clean, filled with the unmistakable scent of olive trees and a gentle breeze that made the leaves whisper in a soothing rhythm. We walked in silence for a few minutes.

It was hard to believe that just two days ago I had been trapped in that horrible clinic, drugged and hopeless. Now I was here, in Valentia, free, walking beside the man who had risked everything to save me. "I thought your family was known for their wines," I said at last, admiring the trees. Some of them were so old their trunks were as thick as pillars, their rough bark telling stories of decades of growth. Marcus laughed, the sound genuine and amused as it echoed between the trees. "They are. But my father never wanted to work directly in the family business.

After living under that kind of pressure, I completely understand his decision." We stopped beside a particularly ancient olive tree, its twisted branches forming intricate patterns against the crystal-blue sky. Marcus leaned casually against the trunk, and I noticed how deeply relaxed he seemed here. As if this place soothed him in a way nothing else could. "Of course, he still gets his share of the company's stocks and dividends," Marcus continued, gesturing broadly to take in the entire landscape around us. "But he chose a quieter life here with my mother.

Far away from corporate politics, power games, and constant pressure." I looked around, trying to imagine what it must have been like to grow up somewhere so peaceful. Rows and rows of olive trees stretched in every direction, broken up by narrow stone paths that wound through the land. In the distance, rolling hills covered in greenery rose against the horizon, dotted with stone buildings that looked like they had been standing there for centuries. "In Castoria, if you don't have vineyards, you have olive trees.

joked, his eyes bright with humor. "But this is really more of a hobby for them. They produce homemade olive oil, sell it locally, and use my mother's last name, Galleo, for the business. Nothing too ambitious. It's more about having something of their own. Something that doesn't carry the weight of the Kensington name, even though they don't really need to worry about that." "And you?" I asked, curious about how he had handled those

breeze. "As the eldest son, I didn't really have a choice. It was me, Anthony, and of course Christian representing our generation. The responsibility kind of landed

of business, the travel, the constant challenges. My father is way more zen than I'll ever be." "And Luke and Mia?" I asked, curious about his younger siblings.

to a small rise in the land. The ground was uneven, scattered with loose stones and small dips that forced us to watch our steps, but there was something

at him more closely, genuinely curious about this piece of his childhood. "I was about eight years old, and I'd just gotten a brand-new bike for my birthday. Blue with silver details, and I was completely obsessed with it," he said, laughing as he shook his head at the memory. "I was determined to show

particularly dense live trees. it would be a brilliant idea to fly down that hill at full speed. I wanted to prove I was brave, that I raid of anything," he continued, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous memory. "As you can e, it didn't

automatically touched the scar. "Blood everywhere. Me screaming like I was dying. My mother almost fainted when she saw me, and my father had to rush