Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire

JUNJIE

The sharp metallic scent of sweat and leather occupies the air as I step into the gym. The overhead lights flicker, casting a pale glow on the ring where Zian is already stretching. I walk in, my mind miles away, still replaying Yiren’s messages from earlier.

Yiren working on a project downtown—alone. No matter how hard I try to push the thought away, it keeps coming back. The images of her walking through those streets, dealing with shady clients, and drunk men, are like a slow burn in my gut. I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t. We are no one. I have zero right over her personal decisions yet this one bugs me.

"About time," Zian says, bouncing on his feet, already warmed up. He throws me a pair of gloves. "You’ve been avoiding this, haven’t you?"

I slide on the gloves, adjusting the velcro strap. "Had some things to take care of."

"Things or someone? " His smirk is infuriating, the kind that grates at my nerves. "Like a particular sexy hot woman who happens to be living in your house?"

"You’re looking to get knocked out tonight, aren’t you?" I mutter, ducking into the ring.

He laughs, but it’s clear he’s not letting it go. "What’s going on, Jun? You’ve missed the last two weeks. Yiren keeping you... occupied? In the kitchen?"

I land a jab at his ribs, harder than I intend to. Zian grunts, taking a step back. His eyes narrow, a hint of surprise. "Touchy subject?"

"You’re the one who suggested this fake relationship," I remind him, feeling a surge of irritation at his casual teasing. "You are an equal partner in this."

Zian’s grin fades, and in one swift movement, he returns the punch, aiming for my jaw. I dodge, but his fist connects with my shoulder instead, sending a sharp pain down my arm.

"Not interested in a threesome, bro. I suggested faking it. Banging is your idea." he counters, stepping back and bouncing on his feet, ready for another round.

"We’re not—" I stop myself, realizing how defensive I sound. "It’s just an act. That’s all."

Zian scoffs, and I can see the disbelief in his eyes. "Right. Because guys who are ’just acting’ punch this hard when someone mentions their fake girlfriend."

I lunge forward, throwing a flurry of punches, and he ducks, deflecting a few but taking one square in the ribs. He winces but manages to dodge my next swing. "Easy there, champ. Don’t go breaking my ribs. You will have to answer to MeiMei, you know."

"Pusy," my next few punches are softer for softie Zian but the dark bruises on his body will drag my azz to Meimei’s court for sure. She never likes us doing this but we need a sport to burn all this pent-up energy.

At the break, I check my phone for any more messages to Bruce or Jun, whichever. A smile tugs when I saw the message to Jun-- a picture of a cooking pan on the burner—with the message...

Yiren- ’No outside food tonight. I’m cooking. Ca at dinner.’ Another picture of a glass of wine with the message, ’Perks of fake dating. Getting to drink the world’s best wine at zero cost. Don’t bite me for it. I’m hopeless. *wink emoji*’

A relief to know she isn’t going downtown today.

"You’re looking at your phone like it’s the love of your life." Zian’s voice comes from my shoulder, the benefit of being taller than me.

I hide my phone. "Shut up."

"You never share those exotic wines with me."

"Damn, you peeping tom!" I toss my smelly towel at his annoying face.

His lips lift mischievously, "I should book my tickets to Imperial City. This New York Chapter seems like reaching its end."

"No,"

"You’re gonna have to face the music, eventually. Can’t run forever. Especially with Yiren stepping into the role like this. Suyin and MeiMei are convinced she’s the one for you."

He’s right. It’s been a week since my brothers arrived, and I’ve been finding every excuse possible to stay away. Yiren, on the other hand, has been taking the reins of this fake relationship, hanging out with Suyin and MeiMei as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s like she’s made it her personal mission to keep up appearances, while I’m stuck dodging punches—both literally and figuratively.

I scoff, grabbing my gloves. "Yeah, well, they’re wrong."

He folds the Velcro of his gloves, "Maybe, but I’ve got eyes and ears. And it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re completely fucked."

I glare at him, but he just smirks and heads back into the ring. I follow him, my fists already tightening in my gloves.

Just as I go for another swing, I hear the door open. Jianyu steps in, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asks, folding his arms over his chest. "And why is Jun completely fucked?"

Zian and I freeze for a second, exchanging a quick glance. My heart pounds in my chest, and for a moment, I wonder if Jianyu heard more than we thought.

"Nothing," I mutter, stepping back and wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Zian’s just being an idiot, as usual."

Zian snorts. "Sure. That’s what this is about."

Jianyu raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the topic. "If you two are done, I could use a partner. Or are you too busy fake dating to focus on real sparring?"

Fake dating. The word rings a warning in my ear.

I glare at him, but before I can snap back, my phone buzzes in my gym bag. Yiren again. I glance at it, and her name on the screen feels like a punch to the gut. Why does everything keep circling back to her?

The message pops up: Bruce! Can I bribe you to help me with the presentation? I can offer homemade cookies... or a coupon to the naked massage parlor. Whichever’s easier.

I can’t help but laugh aloud, getting attention from Jianyu and Zian. This girl is relentless. And funny.

"Hey, you in or not?" Jianyu calls out, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I pocket my phone, pushing the image of Yiren out of my mind. "Yeah, I’m in."

As I step back into the ring, though, an uneasy feeling stays with me.

*****