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

by Jolie Day

  “That’s wonderful dear! Miles! How could you not tell me?” Mom asked, bewildered. But before I could even answer her, she turned to my dad. “Charles! Aren’t you surprised?”

  “I am surprised, my dear. That’s why I’m stunned silent.” His face re-entered the screen. “This is certainly out of the blue. I must say, Miles, I didn’t expect this from you, but I’m—” He paused.

  “Yeah, Pops?” I urged him on.

  “—glad if you both are happy.” He gave a curt nod.

  “Thank you, Mr. Humphries,” Rose said, although I couldn’t help but notice her slightly wary tone. Had she noticed my father’s reserved reaction, as well?

  “Oh, Charles, calm down!” my mom said to my father, shaking her head. “It was obvious these two loved each other from the start. The sparks nearly set my hair ablaze!” My mother laughed aloud, pointing to her white hair, and we couldn’t help but join in. My mom was clearly elated. I just hoped Dad didn’t suspect anything. Everything seemed fine-ish, though, because he was now smiling at us.

  “That is true, my dear,” he said, “You kids sure have a fire between you.” It sounded sincere to me.

  “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. We appreciate it. Sorry I didn’t tell you, Mom, but I was pretty convinced it was the right thing to do… I didn’t want to be talked out of it.” I added the last part so that my dad could believe that I was in fact nervous, and that I knew I was moving quickly, but that I didn’t care because I loved her.

  Jesus.

  The overthinking I was doing these days made my fucking head hurt.

  “Oh Miles, honey, of course, I wouldn’t have talked you out of it! I would have planned it for you!” Mom shook her head.

  “No one would tell you not to marry this woman,” Dad said. “Look at her. You can be glad she said yes.”

  I laughed. That was a good sign. He was joking. Perfect.

  “Good one, Dad,” I said. And I actually meant it. “I’m surprised she said yes, too.”

  “Tell me, is there a date yet? A venue?” Mom got serious, already starting to plan the wedding. “Miles?”

  It made my stomach flip from guilt. I wished I could give this to my mom. I wished she could have what she wanted, and I hated that I would be ripping it from her in a few short weeks.

  Rose kept her act up, possibly sensing my guilt. “No, not yet, Helen,” she said.

  “You aren’t pregnant… or are you, my dear?” Mom asked, her eyes growing big. Dad just stared at the camera.

  “No!” I laughed and answered, as if she’d asked me.

  “No,” Rose confirmed at the same time. “I’m not pregnant. We’ve only just moved in together. Miles proposed…” she lifted her chin, “…to lock me down, so he says. To seal the deal.” She looked at me with a light in her eyes. Yep. Yep. I saw what she did there. “But we won’t have a wedding for at least a year or so,” she continued, “Or two. We want to wait a bit longer. Not rush into things. We have all the time in the world.”

  Rose was still smiling, and so was I, but not gonna lie, my heart was in pain.

  We really didn’t have that kind of time.

  “All right, all right.” My mom took her glasses off. “Are you two telling me that it will still be another two years before I see any grandkids?”

  Rose just laughed delightfully, not saying a word.

  “Mom,” I piped up, the embarrassed teenage boy jumping right out of me.

  “Don’t worry, son.” My dad squeezed my mom’s shoulders as she seemed to be tearing up. “She’s just excited. Thank you for calling us.”

  “Of course, Pops.” I tried a firm smile. “You guys have a great Sunday, okay? I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Pops.”

  “Byyy-ye.” Rose waved at the screen again.

  “Bye, my loves! We’ll talk all about this soon over dinner, okay? Love you!”

  “Love you, Mom, bye,” I said.

  I killed the call, dropped my phone on the table, and let out a breath. “Shit,” I said. “That was brutal. I feel horrible.”

  “I know.” Rose’s smile faded, and she put her hand on my knee. “Don’t worry. You’re only doing what your dad practically forced you to do. You can’t lose your inheritance. Trust me, it sucks.” Her gaze was fixed on mine, and I remembered the fact that her inheritance was seized by the IRS.

  “I fucking hate lying to them. I’m going to break my mom’s heart.”

  “No, you won’t… I mean, they know you, right? They know you’re not a… monogamy kind of guy…” She trailed off before taking a breath in and continuing. “They will accept that you tried and failed. That’s all.” She squeezed my knee and stood.

  I gave her a nod, not really liking what she’d said. Not a monogamy kind of guy? Tried and failed? What did that even mean?

  “I’m just going to be in my room, okay?”

  And she walked off.

  I sat silently on the couch in the suite lounge, thinking. I felt like shit, and I was full of doubts. I knew we still had time together, but with every day that passed, I grew more desperate.

  Soon the final day of our contract would be here, and I already knew: I didn’t want this to end. I didn’t want us to end.

  I wanted her to stay.

  I knew I should remain cool. A million things could still happen in the time we had left. But what the actual fuck? Didn’t she feel what I felt? I felt like a wreck, yet Rose was handling everything well. Cool even. Too cool.

  Did she really not feel what I was feeling?

  She seemed content with our arrangement, with sleeping in separate beds, and with the fact that she’d soon walk out of the door and never come back. It irked me that she was perfectly fine with this all while I felt like it was falling apart.

  Worst of all—I could feel myself fall for her more and more each day.

  Okay, so I fucked it up. Big time. I fell for my own scheme.

  Even my family loved her. Mom thought she was perfect, and she’d said she could see the sparks between us. She’d never lie about something like that.

  I knew it was real.

  It couldn’t just be me feeling this way.

  I thought back to the beginning. I’d seen Rose as this workaholic, no-fun-no-life girl, stuck-up kind of woman. I’d never imagined that I’d actually fall in love with her. Ever. I didn’t imagine falling for anyone. I was a man trying his best to live life to the fullest, without taking anything too seriously.

  And now, I was a worrying mess, weeks before it would even end.

  What the fuck, man.

  And, on the other hand, Rose had changed—she’d bloomed.

  She was open, happy, and carefree. She was caring, and fun, and beautiful, inside and out. Maybe back then, she’d just been lonely—a rose with all of her walls up. I remembered what she’d said about a family, that her goal in life was to have a family. I didn’t want to assume anything here, but maybe she was happier because she had me. She also had my parents. She had Oliver. She clearly loved chatting with them.

  I leaned forward and shook my head at myself, resting my forehead in my palm. I couldn’t assume these things. I couldn’t think in some fucked up, egoistical way, just because it calmed my nerves.

  Rose didn’t want to sleep in my bed, and she didn’t want to stay. Why would she? For her, I was the “Helicopter Casanova,” after all. Not a monogamy kind of guy. The black sheep of the family. A player. Not real boyfriend material.

  I couldn’t even blame her.

  35

  MILES

  The following weekend, I was meeting up with the guys. We had a yacht-day planned, not to Providence this time, but just around the harbor for the day. Oliver, Damon, and I’d sailed out into the water before taking the sails down and were just sitting back to relax. Oliver planted himself with his feet up and his head back, while Damon and I sat nursing beers.

  “What’s going on with you, bro?” Oliver asked me. “You’re kinda moody today.”

  He was
right. I’d been quiet and short with them all morning already. Damon cocked his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow at me. He, of course, knew what was going on.

  His look was telling me to inform Oliver about the whole deal with Rose. I downed the last of my beer. “Well, brother. My life’s a whole fuckup.” I leaned forward to the cooler to grab another beer.

  “Tell me something new,” Oliver said.

  “I know, shit’s fucked up.”

  “What? No, man, I was just kidding. You’ve gotten your shit figured out. You hooked a great woman, you aren’t getting the company’s name into trouble anymore. You’ll get your inheritance. Don’t stress.” Oliver patted my shoulder.

  “Nah, bro.” I sighed, readying myself to confess what I’ve been hiding from him. “I don’t have it figured out.” My eyes connect with his. “I hired Rose to pretend to be my fiancée.”

  “You shithead,” he said.

  “Yep.” I began peeling the label off my beer bottle. “It’s all a ruse.”

  “Tell me something new,” Oliver said.

  “What?” I gaped back up at him.

  “I knew right away.”

  Damon’s mouth cracked into a smile.

  “Did you tell him?” I turned to Damon.

  “Of course not,” he grumbled. “You know I didn’t.”

  I knew he didn’t.

  “Bro,” Oliver continued. “Do you really think I would’ve asked those questions about you guys fucking for the first time if I thought you two were a real thing? I was testing you two. You could fool Mom or Dad, but, bro, I’m kinda sad you left me out of the loop here!”

  I gaped at him, still digesting. “I know. I’m sorry, man. I just didn’t want to get you involved in my shit.”

  Oliver shook his head. “Okay, this ruse is clearly working in terms of Dad, so what’s fucked up your life?” he asked, his expression confused.

  I took a swig of beer, trying to come up with an easy answer.

  Damon leaned forward. “He fell for her,” he said.

  God damn it.

  I shot a dark glance at Damon but couldn’t argue. I hadn’t told him about the feelings I’d been having for Rose, but he’d, of course, figured it out. He told me it was a shitty idea. Turned out, he was right.

  “Woah, okay. Let me just wrap my head around this,” Oliver said, perplexed. “You pretend to love this girl that you hate, and we’re all supposed to believe you, then you tell me no, it was all a lie. Then you come back and say your problem is that you actually do love her?”

  “I didn’t say that—Damon did.”

  “You didn’t disagree?” Oliver pushed, pissing me off.

  I just glared at him in reply.

  “Do you love her or not?” he pressed.

  “I fucking do,” I snapped.

  “You do?” Oliver leaned back, surprise in his eyes. He put his beer down. “Sure?”

  Even Damon raised his head at me.

  “What?” I asked, confused. “Why?”

  “My little brother—experiencing the torture that is love, once again.” Was Oliver fucking enjoying this? “You know, I could see that you two liked each other, but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Cause, you know, you’re a dickhead. And a fool. And you don’t know shit about women. But now, now I believe it. Because I can see the pain in you. That’s love, man.”

  I raked my fingers through my hair, not liking this. Fucking love. Tell me something new. I knew love was painful. That’s why I swore it off for life.

  Damon skootched forward with his chair and beer. “Miles, if you love her, why don’t you just tell her?”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” I gritted.

  “It’s not. Just make things official like nothing was ever a lie,” he suggested.

  “Impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “First, if we were to really date, we can’t just make our fake story official. That would be half-hearted and shitty. I’d actually need to propose to her, and we’re not there yet. In fact, we’re nowhere because second, I don’t think she’d actually wanna be with me.”

  “Why’d you say that?” Damon asked.

  “Because, like Oliver said, it’s me. She wouldn’t trust me. And she’s totally cool with all of this, while I feel like shit.” I took a long drag from my beer. “For fuck’s sake.”

  “What exactly is getting to you, bro?” Oliver asked. “I barely recognize you.”

  He sat forward with his beer in his hand, a concerned look on his face. All things aside, I didn’t want to sound like a pussy, but these were my guys, so they wouldn’t judge me. Probably just tease me. Whatever. Okay, fuck it.

  “We’ve been hooking up.”

  They looked at each other with blank stares.

  “So?” Damon asked.

  “Of course you have. Carry on,” Oliver said, motioning with his hand.

  “Multiple times. Every day,” I said.

  “And…?”

  “And I can’t get enough of her. I’m not even interested in any other girl. I’ve gotten used to the great sex we have, and I don’t wanna lose it. It’s not just casual sex for me anymore. So, when this fucking contract ends, she’s just going to leave, and she seems perfectly fine with that. But I’m not. I don’t wanna lose her. But if I tell her that, she’ll go running for the hills and then everything will be fucked up.”

  Damon nodded his head and Oliver rubbed his chin.

  “Hmmm…” Oliver started, “This is a sticky situation, dude. I’m sorry. You’ve got a lot riding on this. You think she’d fuck it up for you if shit goes south?”

  “Yeah,” Damon said. “Wondering the same.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, not grasping what they were getting at.

  “Well, if she got angry with you for whatever reason, would she spoil the whole deal by telling Dad the truth?” Oliver asked.

  “Never.”

  “Dude. You don’t seem sure?” Oliver raised his eyebrow.

  “What’s unsure about ‘never’? She wouldn’t,” I said. “She’s not like that. But I’ve got no idea what she’d do if I told her how I feel.”

  “Say she runs,” Damon said, “The whole deal would go to shit anyway, so it’s still risky.”

  “That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

  “Yeah, no,” Oliver said, “Wait until your birthday to tell her, with your inheritance in your pocket.”

  “I don’t know, man,” Damon shook his head. “I think you should tell her. Open cards. Don’t wait.”

  I shook my head, feeling agitated. “That’s not helping,” I told them both.

  “What’s unclear about telling her how you feel?” Damon asked.

  “Fuck you, Damon. Don’t you get it?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but failed. “I’d rather have her like this for a few more weeks than not at all.”

  “You might lose her if you wait until the last day,” Damon argued.

  “Has she ever given you a signal?” Oliver chimed in. “Like staring at you, madly in love, hoping you’d feel the same?”

  “Do you think I’d be fucking sitting here with you two morons if she did?”

  “Maybe you’re the moron,” Oliver said.

  “Maybe,” I gritted. “Probably.”

  “Fuck it, man,” Oliver raised his hand to wave this off. “Just try and enjoy the time you have together now. What happens then, will happen then. There’s nothing wrong yet. You’re just stressing about the future.”

  “What about whether or not she loves me?”

  “Relax, man. Chill,” Damon said. “Seriously. I know college fucked you up, but don’t let that ruin everything for you.”

  Oliver couldn’t wait to throw in his two cents. “Yeah, exactly. No girl wants to be with a whiney little bitch.” He pursed his bottom lip, mocking my last question, “What about whether or not she loves me?”

  I quirked an irritated eyebrow. “What the fuck, bro?” I groaned. “Look who’s
talking. The guy who was—very recently—sitting at Suzi’s, all sulky and weepy, writing sappy love notes on napkins. So shut up, man.”

  Damon laughed out loud.

  “Yeah, so? Well, it worked. I got the girl,” Oliver argued and tilted his head to me. “You shut up.”

  I wasn’t exactly tickled. He was right. Whiney little bitch. My ass.

  “Whatever, guys,” I said. “At least she’s still around. Just like you said, I gotta get out of my head and enjoy the time I’ve got with her now.”

  “But don’t just sit there. Don’t wait until the last day. If she gives you a fucking signal—act,” Damon said. “Clear?”

  “Damn right I will.”

  “He’s back!” Oliver shouted, raising his beer.

  We followed suit, and I let my worries fall away.

  36

  MILES

  Several weeks later. Last day.

  It was the day before my birthday, a Sunday. Tomorrow, all I needed to do was walk in to see my father and get the signed trust documents. Dad had already mentioned that everything was ready—I just needed to come pick it up sometime tomorrow.

  He’d bought the lie.

  The trust would be mine in twenty-four hours, and I’d have what I wanted.

  It felt as if the past six months had just flown right by. Every time the contract had come up in conversation, Rose had said she’d start her moving process after it had ended. That doing anything before that would only raise suspicion if any of my family or friends were to notice, and I was only too happy to agree that she didn’t have to leave straight away, that she could stay “as long as she wanted.”

  However, she did always throw in the fact that she’d have to leave eventually.

  I’d seen no signal. Not one. Sure, sometimes I’d caught her staring at me with loving eyes, or hugging me a bit too long, or kissing me especially tenderly, but my inner voice told me not to read anything into it. Because: moron.

  But, no worries, I got this.

  There was still time.

  I wanted her to stay, and it was time for me to tell her—I just needed to find the right moment. I decided that I’d take her out for dinner. When I invited her, I told her it was to thank her for everything she’d done, but really, I intended it to be a date.