“This is another one I’ll love helping you take off,” he whispered, his low, husky voice sending shivers down my spine.
Before I could respond, he pulled me up and captured my lips in a deep, passionate kiss-right there, in the middle of the vat, in front of the entire village. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, but I barely heard them. In that moment, there was only us, wrapped in the music, the scent of crushed grapes, and the heat of our bodies.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, Christian rested his forehead against mine, his dark eyes locked on me with an intensity that made my heart race.
Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Francesca storming off through the crowd, her expensive dress swishing as she vanished among the people.
For a fleeting moment, her words echoed in my mind-about Christian always coming back to her in the end. But as I looked at the man in front of me, stained in grape juice and smiling in a way I so rarely saw, I decided I didn’t care. Not tonight. Tonight, he was mine. Tonight, we were real.
“Shall we go home?” he asked, his eyes saying far more than his words.
Home. The word felt strangely right, even though the Kensington Villa was only ever meant to be a temporary stop along our journey. Like our marriage.
“Yes,” I answered simply, intertwining my fingers with his.
Under the starry Castorian sky, we walked back to the villa, our bare feet stained purple from grape juice, leaving a trail of footprints along the stone path. Just as, I was beginning to realize, we were leaving deep marks on each other’s hearts-marks no contract with an expiration date could ever erase.
Chipler Aft
Kensington Villa was lit only by the silver glow of the moon and the stars scattered across the Castorian sky. Our feet, still stained purple from grape juice, left marks along the stone path as we walked side by side, our shoulders brushing now and then.
“I’m ruined,” I said, glancing at my white dress now covered in violet stains. “I don’t think this will ever come out.”
Christian laughed, the sound easy and genuine.
“Think of it as an authentic Castorian keepsake,” he replied, his gaze running over me in a way that made me blush. “Besides, purple suits you.’
“Does it, really?” I teased, twirling to show off the full damage. “Maybe I’ll start incorporating wine stains into all my outfits from now on.”
“Just don’t let Isabelle find out,” he joked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “She’d have a heart attack if she knew the new Mrs. Kensington showed up in public looking like she rolled around in a barrel of Nebbiolo.”
“Your mother would have a heart attack just from knowing I’m breathing,” I shot back, earning another laugh from him.
By now, the night was deep, the silence broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of vines swaying in the breeze. As we neared the entrance to the estate, a sudden impulse took hold of me.
Instead of heading toward the house, I tugged Christian by the hand toward the vineyards. His eyes widened in surprise, but he let himself be led.
“Zoey?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
I stopped between two rows of vines, the moonlight casting patterns of light and shadow across the ground between us. I drew in a breath, gathering courage.
“I’ve been thinking about our… interruption last night,” I admitted, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Actually, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. The moon, the vineyards, you…”
Before I could lose my nerve, I stepped closer and pulled him into a kiss. Christian responded instantly, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him. His hands slid up my back, one tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.
For several minutes, we lost ourselves in each other, the sweet taste of wine still lingering on our lips. When his hands began to roam more boldly, trailing up my side, my heartbeat surged with anticipation.
Surprisingly, it was Christian who pulled back first, breathing hard.
“I want to show you something,” he said, his voice rough. “Something special.”
“Now?” I asked, confused and a little frustrated by yet another interruption.
“Now.” He gave me an enigmatic smile, lacing his fingers with mine. “Trust me.”
He led me to a small shed near the estate’s entrance, where he pulled out two old bicycles with wicker baskets
BRY
on the front.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I laughed, looking at my stained dress and then at the bike.
“It’s the traditional way to get around here,” he assured me, adjusting the seat on one of them. “And the best way to get to where I want to take you.’
Resigned but curious, I climbed onto the bike, silently thanking myself for having chosen a light, loose dress. Christian took the lead, pedaling slowly along a trail that curved around the main property and rose gently up a neighboring hill.
The moon lit our path, and soon I realized we were heading to a part of the estate I hadn’t seen before. After a few minutes, Christian stopped at the top of a small rise and got off his bike, motioning for me to do the same.
What I saw left me breathless. Before us, bathed in moonlight, stretched a vineyard unlike the others. The vines were younger, arranged in perfectly aligned rows that sloped gently down the hillside toward a small lake reflecting the starry sky. At the center of the vineyard stood a small stone structure, like a rustic gazebo, creating a charming focal point.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, genuinely impressed.
“This is Kensington’s newest project,” Christian explained, his tone carrying both pride and something that sounded almost… shy? “We’re cultivating a special variety here, a hybrid grape we developed.” He walked over to one of the vines and carefully plucked a small cluster. “Try it.”
I took a grape and popped it into my mouth, expecting the usual sweetness. Instead, I was surprised by a sharp tang at first that gradually melted into a deep, complex sweetness.
“Wow!” I exclaimed, genuinely taken aback. “That’s amazing. Tart at first, then sweet.”
“Like someone I know,” Christian remarked with a suggestive smile. “Sharp on the surface, but with a surprising sweetness if you have the patience to discover it.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.
“I didn’t know you were developing new varieties,” I said, reaching for another grape.
“We usually don’t,” he replied, gazing over the vineyard. “This is a… personal project.” He paused, then looked straight into my eyes. “These are the Zoey Vineyards.”
“What?” I asked, certain I’d misheard him.
“It’s a Kensington tradition,” he explained, his voice soft against the quiet night. “When a family member marries, we dedicate a new vineyard in their spouse’s name. This one is yours.”
I was speechless, staring at the rows of young vines that now carried my name.
“But our marriage…” I began, not knowing how to finish.
“It’s real, for as long as it lasts,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “And these vines will remain, no matter what happens after.”
Something tightened in my chest. The idea that years after our contract ended, something with my name would still be growing here, bearing fruit, was strangely moving.
“I chose this specific variety because it reminds me of you,” he continued, stepping closer. “Like I said, tart at first, but with a hidden sweetness that only reveals itself to those patient enough to find it.”
Our eyes locked, and in that moment, all the complications of our arrangement-all the secrets and half-truths -seemed to fade away.
“In that case,” I said, stepping toward him, “I think we should christen this place properly, with what seems to be another Kensington family tradition.”
With a boldness I didn’t even know I had, I moved on him with determination, grabbing his shirt and yanking him so hard the buttons popped off, scattering across the vineyard floor.
“Oops,” I said, not the least bit sorry, running my hands over his now-bared chest. “Pretty sure I can’t afford that.”
Christian looked at me with a mix of surprise and growing desire, his chest rising and falling quickly.
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.