Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire

JUN’S POV

Suyin and Meimei emerge from the room, looking calm but tired. I straighten immediately. "How’s Yiren?"

"In the bathroom," Suyin answers. "Don’t go barging in. Let her freshen up."

I nod, though my restless feet betray me. My brothers, however, ditch their magazines in an instant, their focus shifting entirely to their wives. Jianyu loops an arm around Meimei, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Shishi pulls Suyin into a similar embrace, whispering something that makes her smile.

I watch them in a daze, my mind somewhere else. The way they hold their wives, so naturally, like they’re their entire world. It hits me in a strange, uncomfortable way.

"Aww, our Juju wants a kiss too!" Zian strolls over, slinging an arm around my shoulder. Before I can react, he plants a loud, exaggerated smooch on my cheek.

"EWWWW!" I shove him off, furiously rubbing at my cheek. "What the hell, Zian?! Your stubble burns!" I grab a glass of water from the table, dipping my fingers in it and scrubbing the spot like it’s contaminated.

The room erupts into laughter at my expense, and I glare at each one of them. "Very mature. Laugh it up."

"You’re so cute Jun." Suyin teases, leaning into Shishi. "Maybe Zian should tuck you in arms next."

"Oh I’m ready—"

"Get lost man!"

"You’re a genius when it comes to running this company, designing cars, handling billion-dollar deals—but you’re absolutely hopeless when it comes to your own feelings. Admit it, Jun. You’re in love."

"Et tu brute?" I snap at Zian, looking between their smug faces. "This is not love! Jeez, you guys are delusional."

Meimei raises an eyebrow, stepping out of Jianyu’s embrace. "Oh? And what exactly would you call it?"

"Friendship!" I say quickly. Too quickly.

The room collectively groans. "Friendship?" Jianyu smirks. "The kind of ’friendship’ where you lose your mind if she gets hurt? Where you behave like a raging hulk when she’s in danger? That’s some next-level friendship, little brother."

I point a finger at him. "Shut up."

"And the way you look at her?" Suyin adds, crossing her arms. "Jun, we’ve seen it. Everyone has. You look at Yiren like she hungs the moon and is the only thing keeping you sane. That’s not friendship. That’s love."

"That is not—"

"That is love," Meimei interrupts, her tone softer but firm. "We never saw you behave like this for Hong. Yes you were sad when she break your heart, but you never tried to win her back or chase her or did anything that you do for Yiren. Why this different treatment for her? If that’s not love, then what is?"

I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out.

Jianyu, "Tell me, you have kissed lots of women before, have you felt something special when you kissed Yiren or was it just same boring?"

Shishi adds, "Especially your first kiss. Was it ordinary?" Hell no. It was explosive, setting every nerve in my body alive. The kiss is rooted in my mind and I still dream of it.

"His expression is saying everything." Zian laughs.

I quickly school my face back into neutrality. "Stop analyzing my damn face."

Damn it. My brothers and their wives are staring at me like they’ve already won this argument. Maybe they have.

They’re grinning like wolves. "Can you all just stop ganging up on me for five minutes?"

"Not until you face the fact," Shishi says, smirking. "Come on, little brother. Say it. ’I love Yiren.’"

"I hate all of you," I grumble, sinking into the couch.

"Close enough," Jianyu says, laughing, "Try again."

I drag a hand through my face, they are making me anxious. I’m about to get a heart attack.

"I-I like her."

They all face palmed themselves and groaned.

What?

******

I kick them out.

The collective laughter, smug grins, and endless teasing were pushing my patience to the brink. They’re too nosy for their own good, meddling in things that aren’t their business.

Was I like them when they were chasing their wives? Okay, maybe. But still, who asked them?

Finally, the house is quiet, just the way I like it. Except... I don’t feel as settled as I usually do. My eyes flick toward bedroom.

I should check on her. Make sure she’s okay. She must be starving after all that. Suyin said to give her some soup.

"This is not love," I mutter, pacing the kitchen. "It’s just basic human decency. She’s my friend. Friends take care of each other. That’s all."

They are wrong.

Everyone in this world is wrong.

Only I’m correct.

This is not love.

Not love.

Bear lifts his head from where he’s sprawled on the floor, giving me the kind of judgmental look only he can manage. With a loud huff, he flops back down like he’s saying, Even I know you’re lying to yourself, idiot.

"Great. Now you’re against me too," I grumble. "Traitor."

Everyone in my life are working against me. Go away. Shoo shooo!

Tomato soup—it’s quick, comforting, and hopefully enough to ease the knot in my chest that tighten when I saw her clutching a pillow to her stomach, brows furrowed in pain. Yiren’s tough, the kind of tough that makes most people back off. So, if she’s looking this drained, it must hurt like hell.

"Hey, Bunny, have some soup."

She looks up, managing a small, tired smile that twists something inside me. I set the tray down on the nightstand and help her sit up, adjusting the pillows behind her back. Her hair’s a little messy, her lips pale, but damn, she still looks perfect. So beautiful that it hurts.

Our fingers nearly brush when she holds the soup bowl. Instinctively, I pull back, too quickly, like a coward avoiding something.

"Careful," I mutter, clearing my throat. "It’s hot."

Her eyes narrows, "You are behaving weird. Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Everything okay. What could have happened? All good. Noting serious. Nothing at all. I’m normal. World is normal—"

Shut up jun.

She’s staring at you.

I sit on the edge of the bed, keeping a safe distance. Safe—for her or for me? I’m not sure anymore. "How’s it taste?"

"Why are you sitting their? Come sit with me."

And do what? Tell you that my family thinks I’m in love with you? And I’m confused and panicking?

Because a tiny part of me thinks they are correct and if they are correct then I’m screwed royally.

"Jun," she holds my palm hand, "Wow, you are sweaty and shaking. Is everything okay?"

Nope.

Don’t touch me.

I’m treading on thin ice.

Your touch is doing things to me.

"Jun?"

****