Fake dating my enemy, The playboy billionaire-Chapter 89: A story for a story
YIREN’S POV
"Hey, bunny, come here..."
I’m crying, really crying, and I can’t help it. Because no one—no one—has ever treated me like this before. This man, who’s filthy rich, who could snap his fingers and have the world at his feet, is the most genuine, humble, sensible, mannerly, down-to-earth person I’ve ever known. He’s not like those pretentious types who think their money gives them a pass on decency.
And the worst, the absolute worst part? He wears his heart on his sleeve, fearlessly. Right now, he’s got me sitting on his lap, his hand gently moving up and down my back, coaxing me back to calm. He doesn’t ask why I’m crying, doesn’t bombard me with questions like, "Is it that time of the month?" or "What’s wrong with you always?, Why you are so emotional?" No, he just... knows I need a moment, and he’s giving me that.
It’s as if he understands me better than anyone else, without needing an explanation, without making me feel self-conscious or weak. The thought alone scares me.
"Once, Chris invited me to a Michelin-star restaurant for dinner with his friends. He just messaged me the address last minute and told me to meet him there—it was two hours away from my place. I didn’t bring my truck, thinking we’d drive back together, and I opted for the bus instead." The memory is a mix of frustration and sadness in my mind. "I had no idea that place had a dress code. When I arrived, they wouldn’t even let me in."
Jun’s grip tightens, "Chris called me dumb, lashed out for having zero sense of these things, , made fun of my humble background, and then just left me there—outside, in the cold winter—while he went inside with his friends to have dinner. He got so drunk and wasted they had to book a room for him."
A flicker of something dark crosses Jun’s expression. "All that time, you waited outside?"
I nod, a little embarrassed but also relieved to finally share it. "That’s why I asked Rui for advice, googled the dress code, and triple-checked everything. I didn’t want to risk making the same mistake and be an embarrassment."
"Do you, by any chance, remember the name of the restaurant?" His voice is calm but laced with something dark.
"Why? Are you going to buy it as well?"
"No," he chuckles, a grin tugging at his lips. "I’m not lowering my standards that much. But just to make sure I take you there one day wearing the comfiest PJs and slippers. And we’ll eat with our hands." A laugh slips out of me, the idea so absurd and strangely delightful. I can almost picture it—Jun, in his perfectly tailored Gucci PJs and Hermes slippers, unapologetically devouring fancy food with his hands in the middle of a swanky restaurant.
"Celeste,"
"Noted," he says, his thumb brushing the last traces of tears from under my eyes. "What happened next?"
"His friend took pity on me and dropped me back to my apartment. But the next morning..." I pause, my voice catching slightly. "Chris broke into my place, accusing me of... of sleeping with his friend. He wouldn’t listen to me... not a word...just keep breaking things and yelling... and... he even hit me. That moment I broke up with him."
Jun’s face darkens, his jaw clenching. But instead of exploding, he takes a deep breath, "Good. But I’m disappointed you didn’t give him a kick in the balls."
"He practices boxing. I’m not taking that risk."
He gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze so intense it feels like he’s sealing the vow. "Then I’ll do the honors. You’ll never have to deal with that shit again, not ever." There’s a comfort in knowing someone like him cares.
"You planned the star-gazing—shall we?" I ask, nodding toward the upturned swing.
We exchange a silent look and, without a word, move to fix it. While he adjusts the swing, and redy the fire place, I spot an uncrushed can of beer hidden between the potted plants. Perfect.
Settling onto the swing, I nestle into his side as he wraps us both in a blanket. The world outside feels far away, leaving just us under the blanket of stars.
"A story for a story,"
I demand.
*******
JUNJIE’S POV.....
She curls against me, waiting for my story. There’s something about having her in my arms like this—a warmth I didn’t realize I was missing. Every moment with her feels... different, more real.
I crack open the can, letting her have the first sip. She takes it, smiling up at me, and I clear my throat, leaning back to begin my story. "Once, I met this girl on a cruise—a real firecracker. She was part of a group on a sixty-day world tour. We kept bumping into each other... in the elevator, the dining hall, during activities, and even the casino. She was outspoken, wild, a total flirt, and made it crystal clear what she wanted. The way she was living her life- I was envious of that freedom. She’d openly flirt with me every chance she got, and yeah, she was tempting.
I feel her shift, her gaze fixed on me.
"On the last night of the trip, we ended up drinking together. One thing led to another, and we spent the night in her room. The next morning, I woke up to see....blood on the sheets. That’s when it hit me. She was a virgin."
Her brow furrows slightly, her eyes searching mine. "A virgin woman looking for a casual hookup? Did you talk to her?"
I shake my head, letting out a sigh. "Nope. Before I could even process it, she was gone—packed her things and left. No note, no goodbye. Just... vanished."
"But I had this lingering feeling that something was off," I say, my voice low. "I used protection, yeah, but something didn’t sit right. So, I asked my people to track her down, to see if I could get answers... maybe even an explanation."
