Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 162 Verdania Wine Expo was in full swing, a breathtaking spectacle of energy and elegance. The exhibition pavilion buzzed with hundreds of visitors, dozens of wineries showcasing their best vinages, and the constant hum of business deals, tastings, and networking filling every corner. Christian and I were doing our best to keep everything running smoothly. After the first reviews of our Vintara line hit the wine journals with glowing praise, investor interest had exploded.

Our booth was surrounded nonstop by curious visitors, distributors, and potential partners eager to learn more about our organic processes, our sustainable philosophy, and, of course, opportunities for collaboration. "Zoey, we've got three more investor groups asking for meetings today," said Lisa, my assistant, walking up with her tablet full of notes. "The Lusarian group, the Eisenwaldians importers, and a distribution network from Rionorte." "Can we fit them all in?" I asked, checking my own schedule while watching Christian across the booth.

He was talking animatedly with a group of wine journalists, his eyes lighting up as he described our cultivation methods. "If we move fast between slots, yes," Lisa said. "But it's going to be tight." Exactly the kind of organized chaos I loved. The best kind of problem-too much interest, too many opportunities, people wanting to be part of what we'd built. too many Our booth looked flawless: perfectly arranged tastings, top-tier marketing materials, and a sleek audiovisual presentation that told the Vintara story from conception to launch.

Joseph had come for the morning session, charming guests with stories about the family's legacy before heading home to rest-just as Christian had insisted. "Mrs. Kensington," one of the event coordinators approached, smiling politely. "We've had another interview request. Wine & Style International wants an exclusive feature on Vintara." "Of course," I said immediately. "Lisa will schedule it." The pace was relentless. I moved from one conversation to another trying to keep the flow seamless as I juggled distributors, journalists, and photographers.

slow me down. Christian thrived in the environment. He could switch effortlessly between technical explanations for the experts and business pitches for investors. I watched him with pride, admiring the balance of his passion and his professionalism. "How are the negotiations going?" I asked during a quick break, both of us watching the constant stream of

to see months of hard work paying off. Every marketing strategy I'd designed, every branding decision we'd made, every piece of our sustainable story was resonating exactly as we'd hoped. "Zoey," Christian said, his tone full of genuine admiration, "you built

smiled, touched by his words but even more fulfilled knowing weld turned our vision into something real and thriving. "Mr. and Mrs. Kensington," another coordinator approached, slightly breathless, "the mayor

to breathe, but it was the best kind of exhaustion, the kind that told you you were exactly where you were meant to be. During one of my inevitable bathroom breaks, I realized both Francesca and Elise were at the fair. Francesca moved through the 1/2 aisles with that calculated elegance I knew all too well, chatting smoothly with influential people in the industry. Elise, on the other hand, kept a lower profile. She was probably working, since lite had taken over PR for Montgomery, Francesca's family winery,

tense, but I refused to let it rattle me. We were here to work, to close deals, to solidify Kensington's image. Nothing and no one was going to overshadow that. It was during one of those unavoidable trips to the restroom that the inevitable happened. I was leaving the women's bathroom when Francesca appeared in the doorway, flawless in a designer suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. Our eyes met, and the air instantly thickened with that familiar, sharp tension. "Zoey,"