Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire

YIREN

(ONE WEEK BEFORE)

RESIGNATION LETTER

"Why?"

"I don't entertain thieves in my office. Be glad I'm not terminating you." Monika's tone is flat, dismissive.

Thief?

I lock eyes with Monika. Seven years. Seven years I've given to Axis Architecture, from a scrappy startup to a multimillion-dollar enterprise—all under her guidance.

Now, she's tossing me aside like garbage.

My eyes flick behind her to the woman in the red pencil skirt. Kristy. Her daughter. The intern who joined us a year ago and somehow skyrocketed to assistant architect. The same position took me five years to earn.

Last month, Monika handed me my first big project as lead architect—designing a new building near Central Park. Now, Kristy's standing there, smug as ever.

The stack of papers slams onto the desk, courtesy of Monika's assistant. A quick glance confirms my worst fear.

Kristy's name.

On my work.

"Kristy submitted these designs three days ago," Monika says, without a flicker of guilt.

I look back at her, disbelieving. This is my work. She knows my style. Hell, she taught me half of it. And she knows Kristy's too—there's no way she doesn't see the difference.

But she's not firing me. No, this is a calculated move. She's pushing me out, making space for her daughter, but not before she steals my hard work and gifts it to Kristy.

"Bullshit. You know this is my work. Your dumb daughter can't design to save her life! She wanted to tear that building down, and it was my idea to propose a restoration with a modern twist." My voice is rising, "Tell me, Kristy, what's the inspiration behind the interlocking beams?"

Kristy's smirk widens, and I resist the urge to slap it off her face.

"Imperial Hotel of Tokyo."

My jaw clenches. Damn. She's right. How does she even know that? My gaze shifts back to Monika. Her lips press into a thin line.

"Sign the resignation letter and leave," Monika says, her voice cold.

"Go to hell, you wicked white witch!"

Her assistant steps forward, but I shrug him off, grabbing the pen and signing the resignation letter with enough force to rip the paper. I stand, smoothing my skirt with one hand, and in one swift motion, grab the glass of water from the desk and toss it in Kristy's face.

"Congratulations, Kristy. Mommy just bought you a building. Try not to destroy it."

******

BACK TO PRESENT

The one perk of being unemployed? Endless naps and extra sleep. Oh, and greasy snacks while scrolling through job sites, applying for roles, and waiting for that "You've got mail" ping that never comes.

But here I am, busting my azz in my sister's café, serving noodles and overpriced coffee to customers with no patience and too many special requests. Not how I pictured my week. I was supposed to be working on that shiny new Central Park project by now.

"How much longer?" Some guy taps his watch for the third time in five minutes, like it's going to speed up time.

I bite back a groan. "Almost done."

The café's in Midtown East, so the lunch rush is brutal. It's pricey real estate, but it pays off, especially in tips. And let's be real, I need those tips to survive.

"Here's your order. One black coffee, and a noodle bowl with veggies, chicken, and sesame."

"You forgot the sauce."

This time the groan slips out. Louder than I intended.

Ning, my sister, and the café's queen, swoops in with an overflowing dollop of signature sauce. "Here you go. Enjoy" She turns to me with a raised brow, "What's up with you today?"

I pout, "Still no replies." It's been a week since I left Axis Architecture, and the silence is suffocating. My elder sister is the only one I can whine to without judgment.

"Aww, come here, sweetheart." She opens her arms for a hug but pauses, glancing down at her pregnant belly. "Oops. Can't risk waking the little footballer."

I laugh despite myself. "Still nothing from Oliver?" she asks, her voice gentle.

I shake my head. "He won't invest now that I'm off the Central Park project." That's the reason I went to the club to talk to Oliver. I sigh, refocusing on the orders coming in. "Oh, and Chris turned up at the club last night."

Ning grimaces. "Ugh, what's he sniffing around for?"

"He heard about my job situation and tried to 'reconnect.' You know, now that I'm vulnerable and all."

"Don't even think about it."

I scrunch my nose. "Please, like I would. I barely survived dating him for a month."

Chris had been charming at first, but it didn't take long for his true colors to show—demanding, possessive, and a control freak. I bailed before it got too serious. He was handsome, sure, but no amount of abs is worth dealing with that.

"I feel like such a loser," I mutter, staring at the coffee machine. No job, no investor, and my savings dwindling fast. Not to mention the ticking clock on my dad's ridiculous will.

Eight months. That's all I have left to figure this out, or I lose my inheritance—and worse, my sister loses half of hers. It's a cruel clause: start a successful business and turn it profitable for consecutive three years or marry someone my father approved of by the time I turn thirty. If I fail, Ning gets punished too, forfeiting 50% of her share.

"I still don't get why Dad wrote the will like that," I grumble. "It's like he wanted to mess with us from beyond the grave."

Ning grabs my sweaty hands in hers. "Don't worry about me," she says softly. "Kai and I are fine. We don't need the inheritance."

She's lying. The café's rented, and between daily expenses and New York's insane cost of living, she could really use that money to expand. She's been dreaming about opening more locations or even buying the place.

I glance at her belly and force a smile. "No way. I'm doing this. For myself. And for him." I rub her belly. "The little pudding needs an aunt who never gives up."

Ning laughs, "You just take on too much stress." She picks up a couple of orders and hands one to me. "How did you get rid of Chris, anyway? That guy's like a cockroach."

I bite my lip. Ning bursts into laughter, catching on. "Nooo, tell me everything!"

I groan as she tugs on my apron. "Was he... big?"

"Tiny," I lie without hesitation. The truth? The dude's built like a tank, but I'm not about to feed into my sister's wild imagination.

Not only is he hot, but his cologne—citrus and leather—is maddeningly intoxicating. And those cheekbones? Sharp enough to cut glass. But I'll never admit that out loud. Feng Junjie may be handsome, but he's also my nemesis.

"Is he still single?" Ning's eyes gleam.

I roll mine. "You're married, with a baby on the way. Focus, Ning!"

"Not for me—for you."

"I'd rather stab him in the balls,"

And, of course, that's when I hear his voice behind me.

"Still thinking about my balls?"

My entire body freezes. I don't even need to turn around to know who's standing there. The café suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, and I can feel Ning and Kai, her husband, trying not to laugh.

I whip around, glaring at Jun, who's leaning casually with that infuriating smirk. He looks annoyingly good in a simple white shirt and black trousers, and a long thick coat, like he didn't just hear me talking about, well... him.

"You really need to stop sneaking up on people," I snap.

He raises an eyebrow. "Me? Sneak? I walked in like a normal person. You're the one obsessed with my anatomy."

Ah just kill me.

I don't need a mirror to know what my face looks like right now. That infuriating grin on his face is all the confirmation I need.

How do I always manage to end up in these situations? And in front of him of all people?

And my so-called sister? Snickering behind the counter with her husband. Sisterhood, my azz.

Just pretend nothing happened. Keep it cool.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jun taking off his overcoat and folding it over his arm. Slowly—like, really slowly—he starts rolling up the sleeves of his blue shirt, revealing tattoos. And veins.

Arm porn.

Damn it! Focus! Don't forget—he's Satan in a suit. This is not someone I should be noticing. Noticing leads to trouble.

I take a breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of my heart, and exhale a little too loudly. My sister snickers again, amused at my obvious struggle. "What do you want?"

Jun leans in closer, lowering his voice. "Anything to keep you off my balls. I happen to like them where they are, thank you very much."

My cheeks flush instantly. Of course he has to say something like that. I glance around the café, knowing this isn't the time or place to get into it with him. "Your order?"

"Shouldn't you be more polite to customers?" His voice oozes sarcasm, and that smirk—it's unbearable.

"I see your expectations are a bit high. There's a luxury café two blocks down that's more your standard. We mortals don't cater to Mr. Feng's refined tastes." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

A low blow, even for me. My sister shoots me a look that says, really?

The truth is, his company is just a few blocks away, and a lot of his employees eat here. It's no big deal that Jun's here too. But something about his presence always gets under my skin.

"Yiren," my sister hisses quietly, clearly unimpressed.

This isn't me. I'm not usually this bitter, but the stress is gnawing at me. The looming inheritance deadline, being jobless, and the constant feeling of failure—it's turning me into a monster. And for some reason, Junjie brings out the absolute worst in me.

I open my mouth to apologize, or at least say something that isn't dripping in sarcasm, but nothing comes out.

"The usual order, Ning," Jun says, not taking his eyes off me. "And Zian's too. Bring it to our table."

Ning nods, already ringing up the order, but not before smacking me lightly on the head. "That was rude."

*****