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

by Jolie Day

  I fake-smiled at that—okay, it was cheesy—but, oh well. Then, a seed of thought popped into my mind. He’d just insulted my best friend Jules, and all the other women in here, just to make me feel pretty? He was a smooth talker, and it obviously came easy to him, but hello?

  I sighed. At least he was hot, right?

  “I’m Chris,” he said eventually, and we shook hands.

  He held mine slightly longer than was necessary. His hands were a bit too soft, somehow. Too doughy, somehow. But mine were still sweaty, so I guess we were on equal ground here.

  “So, my friend, over there,” I turned and saw Juliette waving excitedly. “She challenged me to come over here.”

  “Is that so?” Chris asked. “You didn’t want to come over and talk to me?” He leaned in closer to me as he pulled a half smile. This guy was a straight-up flirt. I giggled nonetheless, encouraged by the cocktails as much as by Juliette.

  “I’ve just never been so forward, you know,” I said.

  “I get it.” He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in to whisper into my ear. “And I like it.”

  Hmm.

  Looking into my eyes again, he looked as if he thought he’d already won.

  He put his other hand on my arm and called the bartender over to buy me a drink. He paused and looked at me, “Oh I’m sorry, would you rather buy me a drink? Or was that not part of the challenge?”

  There was wide humor in his tone, as if he’d made an amazing joke.

  I, however, did not think it was funny. Neither did my tipsy brain. And that usually kind of liked all jokes, even dumb ones.

  That’s the problem with women approaching men, my mind mumbled. The men get all ballsy and full of themselves. The jerks.

  My mind suddenly flew to Miles, and I thought about how he was also a flirt, but in a different way. At least Miles was honest about what he wanted.

  Miles was direct, authentic, real.

  This Chris guy was just buttering me up, obviously, and thinking he held all the cards.

  Puff.

  I realized that I wasn’t attracted to Chris whatsoever. Sure, he was a handsome man, but his cockiness had a different feel to it than Miles’ did. It was yucky, somehow. Not charming at all. In fact, he was Prince Un-charming.

  Around Miles, I felt sexy and wanted, not icky or nasty or used, as if I were a little girl to toy with. How Chris had just begun touching me, with his soft warm fingers, actually creeped me out. Why was he even touching me? When he’d held my sweaty hand for just too long earlier, uhhh, and what’s going on… now he was moving his hands on my arms and shoulder as if we were already dating?

  It felt unnatural, and unwelcome, and I wiggled uncomfortably out of it.

  When Miles touched me, which wasn’t very often, it felt inviting, exciting, hell, thrilling, panty-melting hot (did I just really think that?), even when he was joking around.

  Shit.

  But, the fact that I was now comparing Chris with Miles was kind of the point of why I’d come here in the first place: I wanted to ease my sexual frustrations. I glanced over to Juliette. She gave me encouraging “don’t you chicken out now” eyes.

  So, even though my mind was protesting loudly, I decided to just get this over with, and let my eyes roam the man’s body. He watched me as I did it, obviously feeling absolutely like the king of the world. He was not. He was muscular, yes, but he didn’t have Miles’ wide shoulders. His body looked lean under his shirt, and his jeans hung loosely around his legs. Miles was muscular everywhere. I thought about the thickness of Miles. How his body was built. It was bulging with strength, among other things, and it was what I craved at night in my bed.

  Nope.

  Sorry.

  This Chris guy would just not work to get Miles from my system.

  “You know what…” I started, “I’m sorry, but…I can’t…I’m, er, good,” I finished lamely, but I was smiling to myself as I turned and walked back to Juliette.

  “What happened? He looks shocked,” she said as I reached her.

  “I couldn’t,” I said. “I turned him down.”

  “Rude!” she joked.

  “He just wasn’t doing it for me.”

  “God, love,” Juliette began laughing with me. “Your standards are high. You’ll end up alone with ten cats, one day.”

  I couldn’t believe she’d said the same thing Miles had chirped at me, before.

  Maybe I was a prude. And boring. I was obviously rude.

  Miles was right.

  But I wanted panty-melting hot ecstasy, not an awkward fumble in bed as the guy tries to get it up. I needed a man, someone who would take me and treat me as a woman needed to be treated, not toy with me to boost his own lame ego.

  I tried not to think of Miles as the perfect candidate, because: Miles.

  But it was difficult not to.

  “Shall we get out of here?” I asked my BFF. “I’m officially tired, and I need to move tomorrow. And since you’re helping me move, you need to get to bed, now.”

  She obliged. “Let’s share a cab.”

  We stood and waltzed out of the bar, arm in arm.

  16

  MILES

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was Rose.

  What the fuck was she doing here? I’d never seen her out in any clubs or bars before, but as I sat with Damon in the private corner of Swayze’s, enjoying my last day of freedom, I noticed her. Not only that, but she was walking right up to a man at the bar, all dolled up, in what definitely looked like a come-on.

  I was sitting on the couch in the VIP corner, Damon on the other couch alongside me. We’d decided to come here after work to relax and have a few beers. I’d told him about the move tomorrow. Oliver was busy tonight, but Damon had agreed to join me to celebrate “the secret deal” moving forward.

  It was my last night of living by myself, but for some unknown reason, I just wasn’t in the mood for a big party. I just wanted to hang out and enjoy a few drinks.

  “Here you go, boys,” Sadie handed us our order, winked at Damon, and stormed off.

  “Well, congrats, man,” Damon said, lifting his beer for a cheers. He still didn’t like the idea about lying to my dad, but he was happy that I’d found a way to keep myself out of trouble.

  “Dude, she’s here,” I said, looking past his beer toward the bar.

  “What?”

  “She’s fucking here.” What the fuck were the chances?

  “Who?”

  “Man, the girl we’re talking about non-stop. Rose, my fake fiancée, my fucking neighbor.”

  “Chill. I’m still getting used to you going on and on about the same fucking girl.” He turned to scan the room. “Which one?”

  I’d originally noticed a flash of green and long curly hair that was the same chestnut brown as Rose’s. When I looked closer, I’d realized it was indeed her. “The gorgeous one.”

  “Which one?” he repeated impatiently.

  “In the green jumpsuit.”

  “Damn man. She’s fucking gorgeous.”

  “Told ya.”

  “Makes it hard to believe she’d be your fiancée.” He teased me, shaking his head. Fucker. “So, what does Oliver say about all of this?”

  I was still keeping an eye on Rose as I answered him. “He still doesn’t know. I haven’t told him.”

  “Why not? You don’t want him to accidentally let it slip or develop a guilty conscience and tell your father or something?”

  “Nope, I don’t want him to get into trouble. If Dad finds out all of this was bullshit, he’s clear. You’re the only one who knows. And Rose, obviously. It’s us three, nobody else.”

  Damon nodded, “Fair enough.”

  That’s what I liked about him. Damon had my back, a hundred percent, even when he didn’t like some of the shit I came up with. Also, I didn’t need to explain why I risked his knowing about all of this. Theoretically, it could mean high water for him too, if Dad d
ecided to question him—but it was highly unlikely. Still, in the very unlikely case that it did happen, this son of a bitch—of all people—would know how to strategize his way out of it in seconds, without lying and without having to think hard. That’s just how his brain worked. That’s why he was so good at his job, as Chief Technical Officer, in our firm. And that’s why he didn’t give a fuck if he was involved or not.

  I clenched my fists. Both of us were transfixed, now, watching the scene unfolding before us. My gaze was on the loser that Rose had approached.

  “I thought she was boring, uptight, and responsible,” Damon said. “Isn’t that what you told me? That she’s the perfect daughter-in-law? Only thinks about work, never leaves the house, never has sex?”

  I didn’t respond, my mind whirring.

  The way that douche was staring at her, I wanted to knock his teeth out. I wasn’t sure how to handle this feeling washing over me. Not jealousy, surely, I couldn’t be feeling that about Rose. She was about to be my fucking roommate, nothing more, nothing less. Well that, and my pretend fiancée, keyword being pretend. I couldn’t get mixed up about my pretend fiancée. There were no feelings. None.

  I had six months of living with her to get through. It didn’t matter how gorgeous she might be, or why the fuck she was here dressed to kill next to a creep who had his dirty grabby hands all over her. Why was he touching her? I kept watching as she chatted with the guy.

  Did he just stare at her tits? Fucking creep.

  Did she just smile?

  She liked it? No way.

  And what’s the plan? To go home with him? Have a one-night-stand? Surprise me with him tomorrow morning in the elevator?

  Over my dead fucking body.

  Damon tried talking to me again, but I didn’t hear him. I just sat with my eyes glued to the situation at the bar.

  “Miles,” he pressed.

  “Yeah?” I answered, slowly snapping out of the haze, but not pulling my eyes from her.

  “Is it just me, or are you looking a little too worried about whatever is happening at the bar right now? She can fuck whomever she likes. Didn’t you say the contract doesn’t start until tomorrow? Maybe she just wants one night of fun before she has to move in with you.”

  “Uh, no. I’m not worried,” I grumbled, ignoring his jab. “I’m just keeping tabs. He’s eye-fucking her, don’t you see?”

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  “She’s my neighbor, after all, and my friend. I guess,” I said, not even believing the words myself as they came out.

  Damon shook his head with a sigh. “Your friend, huh? When did that happen?”

  I didn’t stop looking at Rose. Friends? Was that what I wanted? To be friends with her? “Well, maybe ‘friends’ isn’t the right word,” I said. “We’re acquaintances, you know. Business partners, even.”

  “The other day it didn’t sound as if you were friends. More like enemies. If I’m not mistaken you called her a she-devil at some point, ‘giving you hell at every turn.’”

  “Yeah, yeah. Look, I’m sure we’ll still have our little spats. But after agreeing to my deal, we’ve worked some things out. We’ve kind of called a truce.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all Damon replied. He watched me watching Rose, then glanced over to the happy couple. “You can relax,” he said finally. “I don’t think she’s into him.”

  I looked at Damon.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s eye-fucking her, she’s not eye-fucking him.”

  “Sure?” I looked back over there.

  “Watch her body language. She doesn’t like his touch. Now she’s even leaning back. She’s not into him.”

  “Sure man? Then why’d she—”

  “A hundred percent.”

  Suddenly, Rose shook her head, said something to the guy and walked away, leaving him looking dumbfounded.

  Yeah. You don’t deserve her, loser.

  Realizing I’d been holding my breath for a while now, I finally breathed again. I straightened my shoulders. Turning back to Damon, I grabbed my beer.

  “Cheers!” I raised my beer to his. We clinked, and I sat back and crossed my legs.

  He gave me a shit-eating grin. Smartass.

  The next morning, Rose appeared at my—I mean our—door, bright and early. I was ready and waiting for her. She looked a little flushed. She and her girlfriend (the one who’d been wearing that white robe) directed the guys I’d arranged to help with the move. At least there wasn’t a lot to move. Most of her father’s bigger furniture pieces had already been collected by the IRS.

  But there were clothes, tons of clothes. Bags and bags full. Damn, woman.

  She’d have to use both of the guest rooms by the looks of it, and all of my room, too. I suggested this, and she gave me one of her famous “fuck off” stares. All right. Grinning, I backed away and sat on the balcony with my laptop, catching up on my emails, until they’d moved everything, and her girlfriend had left. Finally, Rose carried Miss Muffin over, who’d been hiding under one of the cabinets until the ruckus was over. Poor thing.

  I tipped the guys and closed the door behind me before I strolled over to her new room and popped my head inside. Rose was sitting in the middle of it, on the floor, in between piles of clothes and a playful cat. Hey, looks like Miss Muffin enjoyed herself. I glimpsed a bag to the side that had a lacy bra and what I thought might have been a garter belt sticking out.

  Of course, I tried not to imagine her in that particular set of underwear.

  Of course, I knew exactly how that looked.

  Of course, some of my blood left my brain.

  “Do you need to be rescued from this sea of material you seem to be drowning in?” I asked. I’d obviously caught her off guard, because she jolted with fright and turned her head toward me.

  “Oh God, Miles, you scared me.”

  She blew out a relieved breath with her hand on her chest. “I’m going to have to get used to not being alone anymore. You were so quiet for a while, I forgot you existed.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, lifting my eyebrow. “You forgot that all of this existed?” I stood flexing my muscles at her.

  She pretended to cover her eyes. “How could I ever forget?” She went back to folding each item of clothing and stacking it, ready to be put away.

  “Speaking of me,” I said, “There’s this local benefit I need to attend tonight.”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you like to join me?” I asked, feeling nervous all of a sudden. God knows why—it was just a question after all, not like I was actually asking her on a date.

  “Hmm.” She thought for a second, “Will this be our debut?”

  “Something like that. My family will be there.”

  “Your family? Who exactly? Like your mom and dad?” she asked, her eyes slightly wider now.

  “Yes, Mom, Dad, and Oliver, my brother, but he’ll probably join later.”

  “And Oliver still doesn’t know about our deal, right?”

  “Nobody knows. Except Damon, my best buddy.” I shrugged. “I might tell Oliver eventually. Let’s see how things go tonight. It’s the perfect time and setting.”

  “Your sister, Aria, will she be there?”

  “Not likely, she’s busy in L.A. She might be here for Christmas, but that’s—”

  “—after our contract is over.” She finished for me. “At least one person less to worry about. I didn’t expect to be thrown into the water right away.” Rose was nodding, but I could tell she felt nervous.

  “We’ll jump together,” I said. “Get it over with.”

  “Hmm. Maybe we should wait…”

  “Waiting gives the devil time.”

  “Time for what?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject, and catching me off guard.

  “Well, devilry, I guess.”

  “Oh. I guess.” She wasn’t convinced.

  “Look, Rose, don’t worry. Don’t overthink it. We’re in this together. There will b
e friends and other guests, maybe some famous people, too. It’s a benefit, not a family dinner, so we can get the hell out of there any time we’d like. It’s perfect.”

  “And we’ll have each other to lean on if needed. Right?”

  “Of course.”

  Rose took in a breath and seemed to relax her body with her exhalation. “Then yes. I’ll join you. Let me just get into character,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant. “Into character?”

  She turned to look at me again. “As in, get dressed?”

  “Oh right.” I laughed, backing up. “I’ll leave you to it.” Just as I took another step back, I felt something slide through my legs. “Aaah. Fuck.”

  I looked down to realize it was the little Muffin. Rose chuckled, apparently loving that the cat had scared the pants off me. “Well, hello. Looks like I need to get used to some things, too. Like this little girl being around.”

  “One guy, two girls. You’re outnumbered.”

  “And outsmarted.”

  Through her laughter, Rose agreed.

  A few hours later, I stood in the kitchen, dressed to the nines. I had on my tux, my hair combed back, and my face clean-shaven. I’d heard Rose getting ready, through all sorts of sounds: a hair dryer, a few different-sounding sprays, clapping, moaning (I liked that part), a witchery apparatus sound I didn’t recognize, some shuffling, some clicking, some rubbing, more spraying, more witchery apparatus.

  All this was new.

  Women didn’t get ready in my apartment. They came to my apartment ready.

  It felt weird having her in my place and only being able to hear what she was up to, not being able just to walk right in. It felt more than weird actually. It felt as if I was on some spaceship, surrounded by weird sounds and sound intervals, waiting for the alien-bride to step out, ready to scare the fucking shit out of her captured, tied down, human groom.

  Not that I felt captured. Or tied down. Or ready to be scared. Just unable to take a sneak peek. You get the idea.

  However.

  My expectations were exceeded when she finally stepped out of her ship.