“The executive airport. We have a private hangar.”
Of course they did. Why wasn’t I surprised?
About forty minutes later, we pulled up to a small airport surrounded by trees. Christian drove straight through a security gate where the guards greeted him by name, no ID required.
And then I saw it. The jet. Sleek, white, with the Kensington Wineries logo painted discreetly on the tail. It looked like something out of a movie, the kind regular people like me only ever watch from a distance.
“Is it yours?” I asked, feeling stupid the second the words left my mouth.
“The company’s,” he said, parking near a small terminal. “But yes, technically it’s mine.”
A uniformed employee approached as soon as we stepped out, taking our luggage.
We climbed the stairs, and the moment I stepped inside, I had to fight back a gasp. The interior was more luxurious than anything I could’ve imagined. Plush beige leather seats that looked more comfortable than my own bed, polished wood tables, and even a small bar in the corner.
“You can sit wherever you like,” Christian said, slipping off his jacket and hanging it neatly.
I picked a seat by the window, sinking into the buttery leather. How did people ever get used to this? To living like this every day?
Once we were airborne, a flight attendant served champagne in crystal flutes. Christian sat across from me, perfectly at ease.
“The flight’s about two hours,” he said. “We’ll be there in time for lunch.”
My mind was still reeling. A week ago, I’d been stuck in my usual routine, selling wedding dresses to other people. Now I was on a private jet, headed to a luxury winery, with a diamond ring on my finger.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.
“How fast everything’s changed.”
Something in his expression softened.
“It’s always like that. The big changes rarely announce their arrival.”
“Do you like it?” I blurted out. “This life?”
Christian looked genuinely caught off guard. He took a sip of champagne before answering.
“It’s the only life I know.”
“But do you like it?”
He hesitated, and for a brief moment, that confident façade seemed to crack.
“It has its moments.” His gaze met mine, and for the first time since I’d met him, it felt… sincere. “But it can be… lonely.”
Lonely. The last word I’d ever expected to hear from someone like him. Someone who seemed to have everything.
“Why?” I asked, curiosity pulling the question out before I could stop it.
He shrugged, that casual gesture that somehow revealed less than it hid.
“It’s hard to know who’s around you for you… and who’s around you for what you represent.”
The honesty in his words caught me off guard.
“But you must have friends, family…”
“I have acquaintances. Business partners. My grandfather.” He paused. “No one I could really call a friend.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His eyes met mine, and there was something in them I couldn’t quite read.
“Because you asked. And because you have nothing to gain from knowing about my personal life. Makes your curiosity feel… genuine.”
There was a vulnerability in the way he said it, something that made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to admit.
“And your ex?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “You mentioned someone betrayed your trust.”
His expression hardened, just slightly
“Francesca.” The name came out laced with bitterness… and something else Something that sounded uncomfortably like longing. “We were together for three years. I was going to propose.”
I swallowed hard. Christian had been that close to committing to someone? It was difficult to picture.
“What happened?”
He drew in a slow breath, his gaze unfocusing for a moment, like he was replaying a memory he’d rather forget.
“I found out she was-“
The plane jolted suddenly, a burst of turbulence sending my champagne glass sloshing dangerously close to spilling.
The flight attendant appeared immediately.
“Please fasten your seatbelts, we’re experiencing some turbulence.”
Christian immediately shifted back into his polished façade. The brief glimpse of vulnerability was gone.
“We’ll get through this quickly,” he said, buckling his seatbelt. “The forecast in the South is perfect.”
I fastened mine too, realizing the moment had slipped away. He wasn’t going to finish that story now. The wall was back up.
As the plane jolted, my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I found out she was… what? Cheating? Was that it? Christian Kensington, the man who seemed to have everything… knew what betrayal felt like too?
And more importantly: what did that mean for me, for us, for this bizarre arrangement we’d gotten ourselves into?
The turbulence lasted only a few minutes, but it was enough to shift the atmosphere between us completely. Christian pulled out his laptop and buried himself in work, answering emails with a concentration that felt deliberate. It was as if he wanted to make sure there was no space for our earlier conversation to continue.
The rest of the flight passed in a silence that was almost comfortable. I lost myself staring out the window as the landscape slowly changed beneath us: coastline giving way to rolling green mountains, patchwork fields painted like a canvas, tiny towns nestled in valleys like miniatures.
When we finally began to descend, the pilot announced our arrival at the Kensington private airstrip. I pressed closer to the window, awestruck. Below us stretched what looked like a private kingdom: endless hectares of vineyards perfectly lined across gentle hills, rolling as far as the eye could see.
“All of this is yours?” I asked, unable to hide the wonder in my voice.
Christian glanced from his laptop to the view.
“The family’s,” he corrected. “Four generations of Kensingtons built this.”
There was undeniable pride in his tone-mixed with something heavier, almost like a burden.
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.