Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 110 We followed the stone path lined with lanterns that glowed softly against the night. The air was rich with the scent of ripe grapes and earth-an aroma I'd come to recognize and even crave in recent months. The moon, nearly full, cast a silvery glow over the endless rows of vines stretching across the hills, transforming the vineyard into something dreamlike. Christian walked beside me in silence, his hand brushing mine from time to time but never quite holding it. The tension in his posture was unmistakable-his shoulders tight, his jaw set.

He had just been handed complete control of the Kensington empire, something most men would celebrate with champagne and a toast. But here he was, walking through the quiet vineyard with me, every step charged with the weight of unspoken things. The overlook came into view-a graceful structure of stone and wood perched at the vineyard's highest point. By day, it offered sweeping views of the estate; by night, it shimmered in moonlight, almost otherworldly. We climbed the few steps in silence. Christian leaned against the railing, staring out at the sprawling fields below.

After a long breath, he turned to me. "He knows." It wasn't a question. I swallowed hard but didn't look away. There was no anger in his voice, only quiet certainty. "Yes," I admitted, my chest tightening and loosening all at once. "I couldn't keep lying to him, not after what he said. He asked me to call him Grandpa... and I just couldn't. I told him everything." Christian nodded slowly, half his face still cloaked in moonlight. "What did he say?" A small, disbelieving smile tugged at my lips. "He laughed. Like, actually laughed. Out loud.

Then he said, and I quote, 'I'm eighty-three, not eight." Christian blinked, and then-to my surprise-laughed too. A real laugh. Deep and unrestrained, the kind that slipped past all his careful composure. "We were completely played, weren't we?" He ran a hand through his hair, still smiling. "That old fox." "He told me no contract with the Kensington name ever happens without his knowledge," I said, laughing with him. "Apparently, he has 'contacts in places you can't even imagine." "That doesn't surprise me at all." Christian shook his head, amusement softening his features.

was supposedly retired. We used to joke he had the phones bugged." "You're not mad?" I asked carefully, stepping closer to him. "At you? For telling him?" He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes gentling. "No. Honestly... I'm relieved. Keeping that secret wasn't easy." "He wasn't mad either," I said softly. "He said he understood why we did it. That you wanted

said quietly. "Making sure the company stayed in the family. Making sure he could go through with the surgery without worrying." "At the start..." I echoed, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily between us. Silence stretched-gentle, but charged. Christian turned back toward the sweeping view of the vineyard, the moonlight

himself, his voice low. My stomach tightened. Three months. Halfway through. Which meant in another three, it would all be over. We'd go back to our separate lives, as we'd agreed when we signed that piece of paper-something that now felt like it belonged to another lifetime entirely. The realization fell between us like a shadow,

the truth. His health wasn't at risk. Christian now had full control of the company. There was no reason to keep pretending. "No, I suppose it doesn't," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as something sharp and painful twisted in my chest. "You got what you needed." I took a step back, then another, trying to match the emotional distance I knew I'd need to build. Three months was a long time to drag

hand caught my wrist, firm but gentle, spinning me back to face him. His expression was a storm of confusion and something fiercer-something raw. "What are