The ease with which he spoke those words took me off guard. For someone who was supposed to be playing a role, he sounded alarmingly sincere.
“And what about you, Miss Bennett?” Joseph turned his gaze on me. “What do you admire most about my grandson?”
The question caught me completely off guard. What did I truly admire in Christian? Not the mask he wore, but the man I was slowly beginning to see?
“His resilience,” I finally said. “The way he faces challenges. How he carries the weight of everyone’s expectations without letting it completely define him.”
I realized Christian had stopped breathing beside me.
“Interesting,” Joseph murmured. “Most people mention his looks, his intelligence, or his fortune.”
“Those are only parts of him. Not who he is.”
Joseph studied me for a long moment. Around us, the event buzzed on-glasses clinking, conversations flowing- but it felt like we were inside a bubble of silence, time itself slowing down.
“You know, Miss Bennett,” he said thoughtfully, almost wistfully, “I’ve seen many women try to win over my grandson for his money. But you… you seem to genuinely like him.”
Something in his words made my heart race. What were we doing? This relationship was built on lies, on a contract, a deal of convenience. I shouldn’t have been here, pretending to have feelings that didn’t exist. And yet… why was it so easy to say such true things about Christian?
Joseph leaned in slightly, his ice-blue eyes boring into mine with a force that stole my breath.
“Tell me, Miss Bennett… do you truly love him?”
Joseph’s question hung in the air, heavy as lead. ‘Do you really love him?’ Five simple words that knocked the wind out of me, as if I’d been punched in the stomach.
My mind spun in a whirlwind of thoughts. Lying to Christian’s grandfather about how we first met was one thing, but declaring love? That was different. Deeper. More intimate.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My palms grew sweaty, and I could feel the weight of Joseph’s intense gaze pressing on me, waiting for an answer. The truth? No, I didn’t love Christian. How could I? Our relationship was a farce, a business deal dressed up as romance. But then…
Why did the memory of him lying beside me during the storm come to mind? Why did I suddenly see the vulnerability in his eyes when he talked about Francesca? Or the way he held my hands when he confessed he’d grown up practically alone?
“Grandpa,” Christian cut in, his calm voice breaking through the heavy silence. “Some things are too important to be laid bare like this.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Christian smiled-that smile, the one he only ever wore in genuine moments -and placed his hand over mine.
“But if you need confirmation…” he went on, turning to me. “I think it’s pretty clear what we feel for each other.”
Before I could process his words, Christian leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t like the teasing kiss from days ago, nor the fiery moments we’d shared in the pool. This was different. It was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were truly asking permission. As if he was respecting my boundaries, yet still putting something real into the gesture.
When he pulled back, my heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves or fear.
“I see my grandson has finally found someone special,” Joseph said, a glint of approval in his eyes. “I’m pleased, Miss Bennett. Very pleased.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kensington,” I managed to murmur, still feeling Christian’s lips lingering on mine.
“And when do you plan to make it official?” he asked bluntly. “The vineyard would be the perfect setting for an autumn wedding. Perhaps May? Before the harvest.”
May? That was only three months away! A chill ran down my spine. Our arrangement didn’t go that far. This was only supposed to be about this trip, just these days of pretending…
“We haven’t set a date yet, Grandpa,” Christian replied smoothly.
“Don’t wait too long,” Joseph warned, his voice softened by a paternal tone. “At eighty-two, I don’t have the luxury of waiting forever to see my only grandson married.”
Before the conversation could veer into even more dangerous territory, we were interrupted by Marcus, who approached quickly.
“Grandpa Joseph, sorry to intrude, but the president of the Winemakers’ Association just arrived and is asking for you.” He cast a quick glance at us. “Something about exports.”
Joseph nodded, as if he had already expected it.
“Well, duty calls.” He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Zoey. I hope we can talk more during your stay.”
As he walked away with Marcus, I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. Christian guided me to a quieter spot, near one of the panoramic windows overlooking the vineyards, lit beautifully with strategic lights.
“You were amazing,” he said softly, his hand still holding mine. “My grandfather rarely approves of anyone so quickly.”
“About that kiss…” I started, not really sure what I wanted to say.
“It was necessary,” he replied, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Convincing, wasn’t it?”
Convincing. Of course, to him it was nothing more than part of the act.
“Why didn’t you ever mention you made wines?” I asked, changing the subject. “Your grandfather seemed really proud of what you’ve developed.”
Something shifted in his eyes, as if I’d touched a sensitive spot.
“It’s… complicated.” Christian ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I was starting to recognize as a sign of discomfort. “My grandfather values tradition, which means doing the family business exactly the way he envisions it. I like to innovate, experiment. That causes tension.”
“But he praised your wine.”
“Because it worked.” His gaze drifted to the glowing landscape outside. “The times I failed… well, let’s just say he wasn’t nearly as understanding.”
There was more to that story, I realized. More layers to this man I thought I was starting to understand.
“You’re full of surprises, Christian Kensington.”
He gave a genuine smile that lit up his whole face.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I’m still deciding.”
Our moment was cut short by a new presence. A striking woman approached, her simple black dress clearly expensive, contrasting with her pale skin. She was stunning in a classic way, the kind of beauty that ages like fine wine.
“Christian! What a surprise to see you here,” she said, her melodic voice carrying a faint accent. “I thought you’d run off to Westcliff again at the first chance.”
Christian’s whole body went rigid beside me. His fingers, still laced with mine, squeezed tightly for a second before loosening in a forced attempt at calm.
“Change of plans,” he answered, his voice strangely controlled.
The woman smiled, her dark eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. Then it hit me- I had seen her face before. She was the woman from the café, the one who had interrupted us the day Christian showed up at my shop to buy a wedding dress.
Christian made no move to introduce us, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. The woman’s gaze dropped to our intertwined hands, then to the engagement ring on my finger.
“So the rumors are true,” she said, her smile never faltering. She extended her hand directly to me. “Since Christian seems to have forgotten his manners, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Francesca Montgomery. And you must be the mysterious fiancée.”
Francesca Montgomery. The name Christian had spoken that night during the storm, like a scar that still hurt when touched. The woman who had betrayed him in the worst possible way. And now here she was, her hand extended toward me, a calculated smile on her perfect lips.
“A pleasure to meet you,” I replied, gripping her hand harder than I intended. “Zoey Bennett.”
“Zoey,” she repeated, as if tasting the name, testing it. “What a… unique name. Christian always did have peculiar taste.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.