Faking It with the Billionaire Next Door: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Jolie Day

  I gave her the once-over.

  She looked good, aside from the mascara spiders down her cheeks, but she didn’t appear injured in any way—at least, not physically. I wondered if she’d gotten a boyfriend. Maybe the bastard had hurt her, broken her heart, or said something mean. Yeah, that was probably it. Anger started to boil within me.

  Why was I even thinking this way? I was supposed to disregard the chick. But I did feel bad for her.

  After a few seconds, I leaned in an inch, attempting my best sensitive voice I could muster. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She just shook her head, and we continued our ride in silence.

  Somehow, the elevator took longer than usual, but that could’ve been my imagination. You know how time never passed when you were stuck in an uncomfortable situation? Like when your favorite porn site you were jacking off to, stopped mid-stroke because the Wi-Fi went down? That.

  Studying her, I wondered what or who could’ve possibly caused this. It was as if everything I’d been thinking about—before seeing her—had disappeared, and all I could think of now was how to help Rose. I decided to give it another try.

  “Rose, maybe I can help. What happened? I’m sure I can help.”

  Just then, the shit-stack of an elevator started really acting up. It made weird noises, and Rose grabbed the handrail as it slowed down and eventually stopped.

  The lights flickered out.

  We stood in the darkness. Fuck.

  Next to me, Rose made an annoyed noise, like a sigh but with more emotion. “Hmm.” More of a moan, really. And another one. “Hmm.”

  It sounded sexy, actually. Really sexy. But there was no time for that.

  Or was there?

  It was getting hot.

  “Whyyyyy?” she whispered, and I heard a tiny intake of air. She’d sucked in a breath.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry,” I said, coming back to my senses and searching for my phone. Hell, where’d I put it? It was pitch black. I couldn’t even see an emergency light or switch. “We’ll just call security and get this sorted out.”

  While I was searching for my phone, I found I wanted to comfort her. Like a true gentleman. In the dark, I reached my other arm out toward her shoulders, wanting to hold her close and let her know she was safe with me. But before my hand could touch her, the lights came on, and the elevator jerked back into action.

  “Holy cow… thank God. That was scary,” Rose muttered less to me and more to herself.

  Immediately, I dropped my arm. Rose noticed, of course, and she gave me a curious look. Fuck.

  “What were you doing?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” I just smiled at her—awkward as fuck—and looked away. I mean, what could I say? I was trying to comfort you? Lame as shit. She’d never believe it.

  “Were you trying to grab my boob?”

  “What?” Jesus. “No, for fuck’s sake.”

  “It sure looked like it!”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “You know, at first,” she snorted, crossing her arms, “I thought you were leaning in, trying to kiss me—but that takes the cake.”

  “Are you nuts? I wasn’t trying to kiss you. Or grab your boob. If I wanted to grab your boob, I wouldn’t wait for a sneaky surprise grab while we’re stuck in a pitch-black elevator. I’d go in with the lights on, you knowing, watching, wanting me to touch you. Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.”

  “You’ve been caught,” she continued, undeterred, her brown eyes wide.

  “Caught? My hand wasn’t even close to your boob.”

  “And it never will be. I can promise you that.”

  Like I wanted to touch her tits. Okay, I did, but now probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up.

  When we reached our floor, Rose stormed out to her apartment, not giving me a second glance. I stood in the corridor for a beat, considering whether or not to wish her a “Good night,” but then shook myself out of it.

  Not your issue, man. Just forget her, my internal voice kicked me in the ass, the sound melodious.

  I went to my front door.

  The chick’s trouble, the voice inside my head went on as I turned the key.

  Be smart.

  Stay the fuck out of it.

  More mystery, less shitty history.

  After letting myself in and tossing my keys on the entry table—missing the bowl—I pulled off my suit jacket.

  I’d been working my ass off at the office, and this afternoon, I’d talked to my father. Annoyingly enough, he’d asked about plans I might have for the evening. As if I weren’t clever enough to see right through him. Truth was, I didn’t have any. Since I’d yet to conceive a “real” plan to trick him into thinking I was on the straight and narrow, I decided to play along, and be the “good” son he was so desperate to see in me. I told him I’d be staying in, and that’s what I’d do.

  Besides, any good mood I may have had was now squashed—flat—by the scene in the elevator. Rose thinking of me as some groping sleazebag was one thing. Okay. In hindsight, me reaching out in complete darkness almost did turn into an accidental tit-feel. Thank fuck the lights had come back on just in time. That would’ve been one for the books.

  Anyway. Moving on.

  Seeing Rose sad was new to me, and I couldn’t figure out how I was feeling.

  I decided to go about my evening, kicking off my shoes and yanking off my tie. After I unbuttoned the top of my shirt, my ass greeted the couch. I switched on the TV, but nothing held my attention, not even the scotch in my hand. I set the glass down. My mind kept shifting back to Rose and her dejected eyes. She was usually so proud, smug, and haughty—in a good way, mostly.

  I remembered the show she’d put on for me Friday night and how carefree and irresponsible she’d seemed. So fucking hot. What could’ve dulled that flame so severely that’d caused her to cry in public?

  It killed me not knowing what was going on.

  For some reason, I needed to find out.

  Not wasting another thought on it, I stood from the couch and went to my in-house bar. She liked wine, a lot. I knew that. I found an exquisite-looking Merlot and headed out the door. For a beat, I wondered if I needed to change clothes. Nope. I was barefoot in my slacks and still had my office shirt on with the top two or three buttons undone, but I doubted she’d give two shits, anyway.

  A minute later, I stood at Rose’s door and knocked.

  “Go away.” I heard her call out from the other side.

  “No. Open the door,” I demanded.

  “I’m not in the mood, Miles, okay?”

  “What’s new? Open up,” I insisted.

  She pulled the door open.

  9

  MILES

  Rose frowned at me, her face still red and puffy.

  How the hell does she look so fucking beautiful?

  Immediately, I noticed she wore her white robe—the same one from Friday. She pulled it tighter around herself as she stood in front of me, making me question if she was naked underneath. I mean, my instincts said she was, and I took a deep breath to control my body.

  Rose had Princess Muffin Patch in her arms, and as we stood staring at each other, the cat jumped down and began sliding herself between my legs and tickling my naked feet. “Meow.”

  Well, shit, I thought. That was…an unexpected plot twist and actually pretty damn cute.

  “Meow. Meow.”

  “Hey there, cute little Muffin.” I surprised myself by talking to the cat, clearly forgetting the little monster had clawed the fuck out of my couch.

  Rose’s mouth dropped open, watching her pet.

  I couldn’t blame her. I was pretty baffled myself.

  After a few moments of following—and enjoying—the tickly sensation of the cat, I noticed Rose had on socks, which deterred me slightly from my theory of her being naked beneath that robe, unless she had a “keeping socks on” kink (I could work with that), or cold feet (I could help with that). H
er hair was still tied up. This new side of her—the comfortable “at home” look she had going on—was not a turn off in the least.

  I just kept thinking about how fucking adorable she looked.

  I was happy to see her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, clearly not happy to see me.

  I held up the bottle of wine. “Can I come in?”

  She eyed the bottle before pivoting and heading to the kitchen.

  Taking a step inside, I took that as a “yes,” mindful of the cat who sprinted back in behind Rose, and closing the door behind me. I sauntered into the living room, and Rose reappeared with two wineglasses. I took that as another good sign, a really good one, in fact, considering this was only my second visit to her apartment.

  Rose set them on the coffee table and suddenly seemed shy.

  Damn, have I been staring?

  She glanced down at herself and pulled at her robe again.

  So, I have been staring. Get a grip, man. Creeper.

  “I’d better go change,” she said, but before she could move, I stopped her.

  “No, Rose. It’s all right, just relax. Sorry. Look, I’m not exactly in formal attire, either.” I showed her that I was barefoot with no tie and gestured for her to take a seat. With a shrug, she sat on the couch, lifting her legs and tucking them under her.

  I started uncorking the wine when she suddenly piped up. “Look, Miles, can we please just call a truce with this war or whatever it is we have going on? Obviously, I’m not in the mood to fight with you right now.”

  “No problem,” I said, giving her a small nod. “Truce.”

  Pouring the red liquid, I filled a glass for each of us. As I handed her wine to her, she took it and cradled it to her chest.

  “That elevator is a fucking mess,” I started, hoping to break the ice with a little light comedy, “Not sure if you’ve noticed.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and I saw her mouth curve up. In my mind, I patted my shoulder at my success, thinking, You still got it, Romeo, and took a seat on the couch opposite her.

  “Yeah, it is a mess,” she replied after sipping her wine. “I thought for sure I’d be stuck in there with you all night.”

  “I know. Fuck that,” I agreed. “My worst nightmare.”

  She almost started to giggle.

  Almost.

  “You know what? It made me think of the elevator scene in Aliens,” she said. “You know, where they try to escape the alien queen, and Ripley presses the button, over and over, and nothing happens—”

  “Been there, done that, eh?”

  “Yeah, exactly like that, and finally, it closes and goes up. But then, the deadly alien queen takes the other elevator up. And they’re still there, waiting for Bishop. I would have died.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t seen the movie, but it doesn’t sound pleasant. I can think of better things in life. Much better things.”

  “You and your dirty mind.”

  “What? I was thinking of speeding down the highway on my bike. Not sure what you were referring to, missy,” I added with a wink.

  She shook her head, unable to keep from smiling a true smile this time.

  Finally.

  Nailed it.

  Thank fuck.

  I felt relief that not only did I get her to smile, but she was no longer fighting the teasing. She saw my flirt for what it was—a mere joke to lighten the mood. Not an invitation to my bed. Again, not that I’d mind, but it wasn’t why I was here.

  “I’ll talk to building maintenance tomorrow,” I said as I started to roll up the sleeves of my shirt, getting more comfortable. “They better get their asses in gear.”

  When I looked up, I noticed her eyes were on my fingers as I undid the cufflinks, and on my tattooed forearms as I rolled up the sleeves. They lingered on my arms and slid up to my shoulders before meeting my gaze.

  She almost gasped when her eyes met mine, and then she quickly looked away.

  Oh, hello! It seemed as if she liked what she was seeing.

  Not gonna lie, things could be worse.

  “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?” I asked softly, tipping my head down and staring into her eyes.

  She became quiet, considering. After taking in a deep breath and letting out a long sigh, she shifted her position on the couch. Her thin robe opened a little, allowing me a nice view of her long neck and revealing the peaks of her creamy breasts.

  “Well, one thing is for sure,” she said, “it won’t affect my life anymore whether they fix that elevator or not.”

  This sounded serious. “Why?” I asked.

  “My dad paid for this apartment from a trust fund he set up for me. He died recently, and well, apparently, he owed the IRS money—a lot of money, millions—so they’re taking the apartment and the trust account. Basically, I’ll need to move out soon, and I have no back-up money. Hurray.” She said that last part with such sadness, I could feel her heartache, the love of her father, all of it. It was unlike any encounter we’d had in the past.

  I’d had no idea what she’d gone through, what she was still going through.

  I’d been such an asshole.

  “I’m sorry, Rose,” I said. “I didn’t realize your dad had died so recently. And to leave you with debts? It must be difficult for you.”

  “Yeah,” she replied softly. “I’m not sure what I’ll do… I can’t afford to stay here with my salary. I’ll have to move halfway across the city to an apartment somewhere I can actually afford, and then I’ll end up being far away from my job. Which is fine, but…” She groaned and let her head fall back. “Most of all, I worry about my father’s memory, and how to prevent it from being slurred and tainted… I’m sorry, Miles.” She looked back up at me and continued. “I didn’t mean to complain and load off on you. There are much, much worse things, and I feel bad for being so sad. The news hit me like a freight train, and I’m still processing. I just feel so overwhelmed with it all.”

  She rubbed her hands over her tear-stained face before opening her eyes and dropping her gaze to my chest. I wanted to move to her side and hold her. Good God. She kept staring at me and my body with those big, brown, emotional eyes. It was killing me.

  “Ahem.” I cleared my throat to regain composure.

  I thought about reminding her that my offer still stood, but I paused. I knew she likely wouldn’t be thrilled to hear the offer again. But then again, no risk, no fun. What if she said yes? Needless to say, my chances for success had apparently increased since I’d last proposed my grandiose idea.

  Just go for it, the voice in my head told me. The two-faced son of a bitch.

  “You know,” I started, considering my words more carefully this time, “as much as you may hate me, my offer still stands.” Rose eyed me curiously, enough of a sign for me to continue. “I’ve got two extra bedrooms that aren’t being used. Obviously, it’d be weird for you to just move in, but if you were pretending to be my girlfriend, and if things went well, later my fiancée, then well,” I shrugged, “it’d be believable. Besides, I’m sure the million-dollar payment could help you out?”

  Her eyes widened, and she frowned. “Sorry? One million dollars?”

  “Yeah, did I not mention that last time?”

  She shook her head. “No?”

  “Oh, right, yeah,” I chuckled, “you were too busy throwing me out on my ass.”

  Her face relaxed, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. She sat back, staring at her wineglass for a few seconds. I waited patiently.

  “Um, can I think about it first?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  Her eyes were on my lips. “I’m obviously in no condition to be making decisions now.” She took a sip from her wine.

  “No problem, sweetie.” I smiled at her, and when she gave me an eye roll, I chuckled. “Chill. I knew you were still in there somewhere.”

  “Looks like it,” she whispered, and I may have noticed a pink blush in
those cheeks.

  “I’ll let you think on it. Don’t make me wait too long.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know tomorrow. Or the day after. Three days—tops.”

  I stood and headed toward the door but stopped as I reached for the doorknob. Rose had followed to see me out, but I couldn’t end the evening here. She still appeared out of sorts and overwhelmed, and I needed to make sure I’d done what I could to comfort her. Also, I knew I’d regret missing the chance to hold her.

  I turned to face her. She shyly glanced at the floor.

  “Rose,” I murmured, and she looked up. “Come here.”

  She seemed unsure, but she came to me, anyway, taking slow, measured steps.

  “Closer,” I rumbled.

  Before she could change her mind, slowly but firmly, I pulled her body to me by her waist. That caused her arms to drop and her robe to open slightly, revealing beautifully smooth skin. I gazed down at her and brought her into a hug. She stood rigid at first, almost laughably stiff, so I whisper-growled into her ear, “Relax, girl, relax.” Finally, she eased and slowly wrapped her arms around my middle. The feeling of her hands on me and her body touching mine was new, unexpected.

  She felt fragile, breakable, and soft.

  I held her longer than I supposed was necessary, but the feel of her body relaxing against mine was mesmerizing. It was captivating. Alluringly hot.

  Considering the kind of sex I’d had and the wild things I’d done in my lifetime, this was some serious PG-13 shit, it was pure sin—at least the next thoughts that rushed through my mind were. She was naked under that robe. To say I was aroused was an understatement. Enjoying the bewitching rush of my spinning world, I pressed her even closer to my body. She nuzzled and leaned against my chest, begging me silently to hold her. Her arms and hands wandered from my waist to my back, holding me tightly, as if trying to keep from tumbling back into the abyss.

  I won’t let you fall, I promised silently, caressing her shoulders and back.

  Somewhere, a beast raised its head, ears perked up, peering into the darkness.

  Then, something else happened.

  At that moment, the first ever full contact between our bodies made me feel like a teenage boy. A young man free of sin and regret all set to live life to the fullest, unafraid, alive, psyched up and ready to grab life by its horns. I felt her soft breasts pressing against my chest, her small hands clinging to my shirt, the warmth of her tender cheek pressing against my shoulder.