Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire

YIREN’S POV

"She’s a passionate designer, a VR expert, and she’s committed to sustainable design and waste management in her projects. She believes in giving due credit to the people involved in her projects and encourages them to experiment."

My head snaps up, and words fail me. Jun strides to our table, dressed to perfection in deep navy, looking like he just stepped out of a GQ spread. "She dreams of starting her own line of furniture one day and often designs them in her free time, hiding herself on my terrace at night. She never judges a project by the amount of money it will bring to her pocket, but by the quality and what different she can offer."

The whole terrace seems to turn and stare, a mix of admiration and awe from other diners. There’s even a small commotion among the staff, and I catch the manager’s face lighting up as he rushes to greet him, arranging an extra chair at our intimate table for two.

"Her morals are high and she doesn’t compromise with material and always- like always check them personally and visit the factories to make sure her clients get full value of money. But that doesn’t mean she is a softie.... She is a boss lady and knows how to get the work done on time and doesn’t hesitate to rebuke her employees if need be. Right now, she started her own YouTube channel, Yiren’s Interior Whispers!-- to create educating content on latest products in the market. It has 22k subscribers"

Kun blinks, caught completely off-guard, but Jun just gives him a cool nod, settling into the chair with an air of calm possession.

"Mr. Feng." Kun nods.

"Well, don’t let me interrupt," Jun says with a charming smile, glancing at Kun’s plate. "That looks...interesting." He meets my eyes, and there’s a glint there—half mischief, half something deeper that I can’t quite place. Is he angry?

"Jun," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "what are you doing here?"

He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and then drapes an arm behind my chair. "Just came to make sure you weren’t getting short-changed," he says, lifting a single gold-dusted leaf from my plate with a raised brow. "Plus, I had a feeling you might need rescuing."

Kun shifts, clearly uncomfortable, but Jun’s attention is fully on me.

I’m caught between confusion and a quiet thrill, my heart doing these tiny, unexpected kicks. Relief, maybe? Happiness? He’s not off with some mystery woman but here, with me? And those words he just said about me? Observant, and attentive, like he’s been paying attention to every little part of me without ever letting on.

It’s the strangest feeling—knowing someone might actually see you that way, in all your messy ambition and quirks. He doesn’t flaunt it, doesn’t announce it. It’s there in how he looks at me like he knows me as well as he knows himself.

"Hope you don’t mind, Kun," Jun adds, "but I’ll be joining you two for dinner."

I lean close to him, whispering, "You’re really just ’checking in,’ or do you have other plans?"

One corner of his mouth lifting in that half-smile that could mean anything. "Maybe a bit of both. Figured you might want some company and a small reminder." His eyes flick to Kun’s awkward posture, and he adds, "Besides, thought I’d save you from more ’culinary art’ here. Don’t worry—I’ve got a real dinner planned."

I can’t tell exactly what he means, but there’s a tension beneath the calm that’s hard to miss.

The manager approaches, looking like he’s reporting for duty, and the rest of the staff lines up behind him like soldiers. Jun leans back casually and says, "I’ll take my usual from Singh’s Masala Kitchen. And clear all of this. My lady doesn’t eat this."

My lady...

My brain stutters...

Okay. Okayyyy. OKAY!

In record time, the staff whisked away every plate on the table, even the one Kun was halfway through, and all without a hint of apology. I shoot Kun an apologetic look as his fancy little bite-sized dishes disappear.

Kun dabs the napkin on his lips, "You seem to have... quite the influence, Mr. Feng."

"Oh, this?" He gestures to the staff bustling around us. "They’re just making sure the boss of the hotel and his lady are served properly."

"Last I checked, this hotel was owned by Mr. Madison and his family, from California."

"That’s ten minutes old news."

I swear, my jaw just about hits the floor. Did he buy this hotel ten minutes ago? Why? How? And, honestly, for how much?

Just as I’m trying to process this, Kun—out of the blue—reaches across the table, taking my hand and rubbing slow, teasing circles along my knuckles. "Isn’t it thoughtful of him, sweetheart?" he says, leaning in with a mischievous glint. "How about we choose this place for our wedding venue?"

Kun gives me a wink, a clear cue for me to play along. Oh, so that’s his game? He’s pushing Jun’s limits. And judging by the look in Jun’s eyes, I’m worried that Kun’s gonna make out alive.

Jun not just stake his claim on me by interrupting this dinner—he’s practically building an unbreakable fort around me. Alright, I’ll play.

I smile sweetly at Kun, leaning in just a bit. "A perfect idea, darling. Imagine, this whole place filled with roses, candlelight, and..." I give Jun a sidelong glance, a challenge glinting in my eyes, "...all of our loved ones gathered under one roof. We’ll even book the presidential suit for our wedding night."

"The fuck you will!"

All three of us turn our heads to look at the new entrant. A gorgeous tall lady dressed to perfection in a white gown, decked with precious diamonds on her neck and wrist.

Kun lets go of my hand as if I scaled him.

Okay.... What is happening here?

Who is she?

Why is she glaring at me as if I’m caught with her husband?

Wait....

Kun...

*****