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Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire Novel Cover

Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

After being humiliated at the altar, Zoey Bennett hires a professional date to reclaim her dignity. However, her plan spirals when her hire is revealed as Christian Kensington, the arrogant CEO of Kensington Winery. As the internet and Christian’s grandfather buy into their charade, Christian must maintain the lie to secure his inheritance. Zoey fears legal trouble and another broken heart, but the boundary between their act and genuine passion begins to fade.
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Chapter 3

If I thought the wedding party was luxurious, then what could I even say about the place Christian took me afterward?

A ridiculous penthouse on top of Rosemont Hotel, with a panoramic view of the city, a private pool, and a kind of décor that screamed, "I'm rich, and I don't even bother looking at the prices on the menu."

And me… well, I was completely dazzled. But also stunned, like the whole night had been a movie where I didn't belong in the main cast.

"Heavens…" I breathed, spinning around in the middle of the room, taking in every detail. A massive minibar, a sofa bigger than my entire bedroom, and a chandelier that probably cost more than my car. Well, I didn't even have a car. But if I did, it would still be worth less than that chandelier.

And of course, there was an illuminated infinity pool that looked straight out of a movie.

"This is insane! How can you afford something like this? If you spend this much on every client, you must be running at a loss, you know?"

Christian laughed, that deep, amused laugh that, for a moment, made me forget the hollow weight crushing my chest ever since I saw Alex and Elise together.

"I know someone who lent me the room," he said simply.

I frowned immediately, suspicious. A gigolo with access to a penthouse in the most expensive hotel in the city? Was he really keeping up the act even now?

"Oh, sure. You 'know someone.'" I made air quotes with my fingers, rolling my eyes. "Still playing the well-connected role even when we're alone? You're really committed to your job, huh?"

He just gave me a mysterious smile, saying nothing, which only made me more doubtful. I was starting to wonder what kind of gigolo felt this comfortable in such luxury.

It intrigued me for half a second. But honestly? There was a private pool right there, and I desperately needed something—anything—to push away the thoughts haunting me. The images of Alex kissing Elise, the memories of all those broken promises.

I didn't think twice.

I kicked off my heels, slid down the zipper of my dress, and let it fall to the floor, the night breeze brushing against my bare skin. The black lace lingerie now in full view stood out beautifully against the blue glow of the pool.

Christian let out a low whistle, his eyes trailing slowly over every inch of my body.

"Wow."

I shot him a look that tried to seem playful, though it probably failed to hide the storm raging inside me.

"What?"

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of appreciation and something else… understanding?

"I'm starting to think I'm the one who made the real investment here."

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. A smile that never reached my eyes.

And then, without hesitation, I dove into the water. As if I could drown for a few seconds, as if the water could wash the pain away.

The impact was gentle, the temperature perfect. The hot water slid over my body like a luxurious embrace, loosening every muscle. I spun around, letting myself float for a few moments before resurfacing.

From where I was, the starlight reflected on the sea, painting a vision straight out of a dream.

"This is amazing!" I exclaimed, forcing a laugh as I ran my hands through the water.

But the truth? I didn't feel amazing.

The warmth wrapped around my body like a hug, but it couldn't melt the frozen knot lodged in my chest.

Because even there, in that perfect setting, surrounded by luxury and with a man who looked like he'd been sculpted for sin… I was still thinking about him.

Alex, standing at the altar. Elise by his side, glowing in the dress I had sold her myself.

The way he looked at me at that wedding. The surprise. The doubt.

He expected me to have crumbled. To have hidden away. To still be crying over him.

And the truth was, I was. Not in public, not where anyone could see. But alone, in my old teenage bedroom at my parents' house, where I had to move back after catching Alex and Elise together. Crying myself to sleep every night, feeling like the failure they believed me to be.

I loved that man. I trusted him. I made plans for an entire life with him.

And in the end, I was discarded as if I meant nothing. "You were always so boring." Elise's words echoed in my head like a cruel mantra. I was boring. I was ordinary. I was replaceable.

The worst part? If he apologized today, if he said it was all a mistake and that he wanted me back…

I'd probably run straight into his arms. And I hated myself for it.

My throat tightened, a different kind of heat burning behind my eyes. This time, I couldn't hold it back. A tear slipped out, blending into the pool water. Then another. And another.

I dove deep, letting the water hide my weakness. When I came back up, I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together.

When I looked at Christian, hoping he hadn't noticed my moment of vulnerability, I found him still lounging on the chair, watching me with a serious, almost concerned expression.

"What?" I asked, swimming to the edge, trying to sound casual. "Never seen a woman enjoy life before?"

He gave me a crooked smile, though his eyes stayed serious.

"It's just funny to see someone so excited about a penthouse."

I frowned.

"What do you mean, so excited?"

He shrugged, his shirt already unbuttoned, offering a glimpse of his firm, perfectly sculpted chest.

"You act like you've never seen anything like this before."

I scoffed, splashing water in his direction, hiding my pain behind irritation.

"Because I never have. I don't know what kind of rich, bored women you're used to dealing with, but where I come from, the only thing that shines in my house is the overdue electric bill." I paused, studying him. "But you do play your role well. I almost believed you really were an heir. How does a gigolo learn to talk about investments and wineries so naturally?"

And how do you make me forget, even briefly, that I cry myself to sleep every night? I almost added, but bit it back.

He looked at me for a long moment, like he could see right through the façade I was trying so hard to hold up.

"You know, Zoey, I like the way you are."

"And who doesn't?" I shot back, but my voice cracked at the end, betraying me. Alex didn't like it. Elise didn't like it. No one ever really did.

Christian gave a crooked smile, tilting his head as if analyzing my answer.

"Modesty seems to be one of your talents too." He paused, then added, "But I wonder what you're trying to prove. Or forget."

His words hit me like a slap. For a second, I considered climbing out of the pool, grabbing my things, and leaving. But to where? Back to that bedroom in my parents' house? To hear my mother's pitying sighs every time I came out of the shower with red eyes?

"I'm not trying to prove anything," I lied, my voice quieter than I intended.

Christian studied me for another long moment, as if deciding whether or not to believe me. Then, without a word, he started unbuttoning his shirt.

And, dear God.

If I thought he looked good in a suit, shirtless was worse. Golden skin glowing under the soft deck lights, every muscle perfectly defined, tattoos scattered across his arms and torso, a sharp contrast to the polished, sophisticated image he usually carried.

My body reacted before I even realized it. Lord forgive me, but that man was walking sin. And just maybe… he could make me forget, for one night, how empty and insignificant I felt.

He rolled up the cuffs, tossed the shirt onto a chair, and began unbuckling his belt.

"Wait…" I raised an eyebrow, trying to claw back a little control. "You're coming in?"

"Didn't you want company?" There was something in his eyes, a softness that didn't match his job, or the act we were supposed to be playing.

"I figured you'd be the type to pretend you can't get your hair wet."

"And I figured you'd be the type to have invited me in a long time ago."

Because I'm desperate for some kind of connection, anything to make me feel wanted again, I thought, but only said, "Then get in." I invited him, fully aware of exactly what was about to happen. One night with a stranger, to dull the loneliness that had been eating me alive since I lost everything.

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