The Enemy I Hate To Love

CHAPTER 12! The Wedding

Emma's POV

A throbbing headache was the first thing I became aware of as I slowly woke up. My eyes were closed, and I felt like my brain had been replaced by a jackhammer. I groaned, turning my face deeper into the soft pillow beneath me, and that’s when I realized something was off.
This wasn’t my pillow.
The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the sheets, mixing with the faint smell of clean linen. I hesitated for a moment before cracking one eye open, trying to blink away the grogginess. And then I froze.
This wasn’t my bed.
My heart leaped into my throat as I sat up abruptly, the room spinning around me. The sleek, modern bedroom I was in was entirely unfamiliar. Black silk sheets. Huge windows with a panoramic view of the city skyline. A massive flat-screen TV on the wall. And the unmistakable presence of wealth.
“Oh my God…” I muttered, my voice raspy with panic as I took in the surroundings. I was in Michelle’s bedroom.
Suddenly, bits and pieces of the previous night came back to me in a blur. The club. The dancing. The fake-girlfriend announcement. The drinking… Oh, God, the drinking.
I remembered Vanessa leaving with her friends, and Sophia ditching me for some guy. I must have ended up alone with Michelle. But how did I end up here? I swallowed hard, my mouth dry as I tried to piece it all together. I glanced down at myself. I was still in my clothes from the night before—though my shoes were missing, and my jacket had somehow ended up draped over a chair.
Okay, okay. No need to panic.
I could hear movement from outside the bedroom, faint sounds of clinking dishes and footsteps. That had to be Michelle. I threw the blanket off myself, my legs feeling like jelly as I stumbled to my feet. My body felt sore, and my brain immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.
Did we…?
I squeezed my eyes shut and slapped a hand to my forehead. I couldn’t have slept with him. Could I?
Think, Emma. Think.
But thinking was hard when my head felt like it had been through a blender. What happened after we danced? I remembered him being close, his hands on my waist, and the way his eyes had lingered on mine. I’d felt the tension—oh, I definitely remembered that. But everything after the dance was a blank.
Before I could spiral into full-blown panic, the door swung open.
Michelle strolled in, dressed in a white T-shirt and low-hanging joggers, his hair slightly tousled like he’d just gotten out of bed. He looked annoyingly relaxed, which only made my anxiety skyrocket.
“Morning,” he said casually, flashing me a lazy grin as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “How’s the hangover?”
I gaped at him, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Michelle,” I croaked, trying to keep my voice steady, “why am I in your bed?”
He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that made me want to smack him. “You don’t remember?”
My heart sank. Oh no. This was worse than I thought.
“I… I remember the club. I remember drinking. But I don’t remember how I got here,” I admitted, clutching the sheets tightly as I glared at him. “What happened last night?”
Michelle’s smirk grew wider, and he sauntered over to the bed, taking his sweet time as he sat down on the edge, far too close for my comfort.
“Well, after you had one too many cocktails, your friend ditched you, so I had to bring you back here,” he said nonchalantly, as if bringing me back to his bedroom was the most normal thing in the world.
I narrowed my eyes. “And? Did we…?”
He leaned forward, his face inches from mine, and whispered, “What do you think happened?”
My heart stopped. Oh, no. No, no, no, no.
“You can’t be serious,” I breathed, feeling my face heat up to a thousand degrees. I pulled the blanket around myself tighter, even though I was still fully clothed. The implication was clear, and I wanted to crawl into a hole.
Michelle leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, looking like the cat that got the cream. “Why do you look so surprised, Emma? We were bound to end up here sooner or later, don’t you think?”
I stared at him, my brain short-circuiting. Bound to end up here? Did he mean—?
No. He was messing with me. He had to be.
But then again, Michelle wasn’t exactly the type to mess around about something like this. Or was he? My head was spinning again, and not just because of the hangover. I buried my face in my hands, groaning.
“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered, feeling my panic rise. “If you’re playing a joke on me, I swear—”
His laughter interrupted me. The sound was rich, deep, and entirely too amused for my liking.
“Relax, Emma,” he said, patting the bed beside him like I was some skittish kitten. “We didn’t sleep together. You passed out before I could even get you to the elevator. You owe me for carrying you up here.”
I peeked through my fingers, glaring at him. “Then why didn’t you just say that in the first place?!”
Michelle shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. “It was too much fun watching you freak out.”
I grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head. He dodged it effortlessly, laughing even harder as he caught the pillow and tossed it back onto the bed.
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, feeling both relief and embarrassment flooding through me. I flopped back down onto the bed, covering my face with my hands again. God, I wanted to disappear.
Michelle’s laughter died down, and he stood up, stretching lazily before heading to the door. “Come on. I made breakfast. Figured you could use something greasy to help with that hangover.”
I peeked at him from under my hand, suspicion still running high. “You? Made breakfast? You expect me to believe that?”
“Hey,” he said, mock insulted. “I can cook. Besides, it’s mostly bacon and eggs. Hard to screw that up.”
I sat up slowly, my headache was still pounding, but the thought of food didn’t sound too bad. I sighed, running a hand through my messy hair. “Fine. But you owe me for the heart attack you just gave me.”
He shot me a wink as he walked out of the room. “Consider it payback for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”
I groaned, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Despite the teasing, I had to admit that Michelle knew how to make things… interesting.
After all, it wasn’t every day that I woke up in a billionaire’s bedroom, convinced I’d done something reckless—only to find out it was all part of his twisted sense of humor.
I stumbled out of bed and padded barefoot into the hallway, following the scent of bacon. Michelle was in the kitchen, standing over the stove with a spatula in hand, flipping strips of bacon like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Wow,” I said, leaning against the counter, “you weren’t kidding. You actually cook.”
He glanced at me, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “I’m full of surprises.”
I rolled my eyes but accepted the plate he handed me. “Yeah, well, next time, try not to surprise me by letting me think we slept together.”
Michelle chuckled, leaning casually against the counter as he watched me dig into the food. “You looked so panicked. I couldn’t resist.”
I glared at him, pointing a fork in his direction. “One of these days, I’m going to get back at you for all this.”
His grin widened. “I look forward to it.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I glanced up at him, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Why didn’t you just take me home last night?”
Michelle paused, his eyes meeting mine with an unreadable expression. “Your friend ditched you, and I didn’t want to leave you alone in that state. So I brought you here. Figured it was safer.”
There was something in his voice, a softness I wasn’t used to hearing from him. It caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“Well… thanks,” I muttered, feeling oddly touched by his concern. “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t leave me passed out in some alley.”
Michelle’s smirk returned, the playful glint back in his eyes. “Oh, trust me, you were much more of a headache here. You kept muttering in your sleep.”
My eyes widened in horror. “What?! What did I say?”
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Something about me being ‘annoyingly handsome’ and ‘too good-looking for my own good.’”
I blushed furiously, knowing full well that he was making it up. “You’re a liar.”
Michelle just grinned, finishing off his coffee as he winked at me. “You’ll never know.”
I shook my head, laughing despite myself. Maybe waking up in Michelle’s bed wasn’t the disaster I thought it would be after all.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that things between us had changed, even if it was just a tiny shift. The banter, the teasing—it all felt different now. And not in a bad way.
Michelle's confidence had always been intimidating, but now, after spending time with him like this, there was a warmth behind it, a side of him I hadn’t seen before. Maybe it was the way he looked out for me last night, or the way he seemed to genuinely care about making sure I was okay this morning. Whatever it was, I couldn’t deny that I was starting to see him in a new light.
As I finished my breakfast, I glanced over at him again. He was still leaning against the counter, watching me with that same infuriating smirk. But this time, I noticed something else in his eyes—a spark of curiosity, like he was trying to figure me out, too.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes playfully. “You’re staring.”
Michelle raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
He hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “About how much trouble you’re going to be for the next six months.”
I groaned, remembering the ridiculous fake-girlfriend deal we’d agreed to last night. I still wasn’t sure how I’d let him talk me.
The ride back to my apartment with Michelle was a strange mix of tension and awkwardness. After everything that had happened the previous night at the club, I was still trying to piece it together. The dancing, the flirting, the announcement that we were dating in front of an entire crowd—it felt like my life had suddenly veered off into some alternate universe. And now, here I was, riding home with the man responsible for it all.
To my surprise, Michelle had been nothing but respectful all morning. He’d even made sure I had breakfast before driving me back. For someone who’d so thoroughly messed with my life, he could at least make up for it with decent food, right?
As we pulled up to my apartment, I turned to him. “Thanks for, you know… everything. You didn’t have to take care of me.”
He smirked, looking all too pleased with himself. “I couldn’t exactly leave you to fend for yourself after all that champagne, could I? I didn’t need another incident of you crashing into something or someone.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny. Well, I guess this is it. Thanks again.”
Before I could slip out of the car, Michelle glanced up toward the building. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Caught off guard, I stammered. “Oh, um, I mean—if you want, but I’m sure you’re busy—”
“I’ve got time,” he said, stepping out of the car with that infuriating confidence.
"Right..." I muttered under my breath, feeling a pang of nervousness as he followed me to my door. I opened it, wondering why I had agreed to let him come inside. Was it the polite thing to do? Or had I just momentarily lost my mind?
Stepping into the apartment, I froze in my tracks. There, sitting comfortably at my kitchen table, was Laila—my best friend from college—laughing with Sophia as they casually munched on snacks.
“Laila?! Oh my God!” I squealed, forgetting everything about Michelle for a moment and rushing over to her.
Laila jumped up, grinning. “Surprise!”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in London!”
“I was!” Laila hugged me tightly. “But I’m here for something special!”
I pulled back, my heart pounding with excitement. “I can’t believe you’re here! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!”
As I turned, still holding Laila’s hands, my eyes darted to Michelle, who was standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow, clearly enjoying the scene. "Oh, uh, right... Laila, Sophia, this is... Michelle."
Sophia, of course, burst out laughing, her mischievous grin widening. "Oh, we know exactly who he is."
Laila blinked, then her eyes widened. “Wait…the Michelle?” She gave me a sly smile. “The one from all those Instagram posts?”
I felt my face turn a deep shade of red as Laila turned to Michelle, extending her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you! I had no idea you were… involved with Emma. She’s never mentioned you before.”
Michelle, ever the charmer, took Laila’s hand and shook it smoothly. “Pleasure’s mine. And to be fair, I didn’t exactly give her much choice in the matter.” He shot me a quick smirk that had my stomach flipping.
We all sat down, though the awkwardness of the moment lingered. Laila’s eyes kept darting between me and Michelle, clearly trying to piece things together. Sophia, on the other hand, couldn’t stop snickering under her breath, as if the whole situation was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed.
After a few moments, Laila cleared her throat. “So, I actually have some big news.”
Sophia perked up, and I shot Laila a curious look. “What news?”
Laila’s grin grew wider. “I’m getting married.”
My jaw dropped. “What?! No way! Oh my God, Laila! That’s amazing!”
Laila nodded enthusiastically. “I know, right? And the best part is… you’re both coming.
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
Sophia clapped her hands. “Yup! She’s here to invite us personally!”
I felt my heart start to race. A wedding? Laila’s wedding? This couldn’t have come at a crazier time.
Laila looked between me and Michelle. “And, of course, Michelle’s invited too. I mean, I can’t leave your boyfriend out, can I?”
“No, no, no,” I blurted out, panic rising. “Michelle’s really busy. He’s got so many business deals and, um—”
“I’d love to come,” Michelle cut in smoothly, throwing me a sideways glance with that infuriating smirk of his.
I glared at him, but Laila didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “That’s great!” she said. “It’s in India, by the way. Delhi. There’ll be four main events—Mehndi, Haldi, Sangeet, and the wedding itself.”
Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Sounds… elaborate.”
“Oh, it is!” Laila’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Indian weddings are a huge deal. You’ll love it! We’re having traditional dress codes, too—Emma, you’ll look amazing in a lehenga! And Michelle, well, we’ll find something for you.”
I groaned inwardly, trying to process all of this. An Indian wedding? With Michelle? How had my life spiraled this out of control?
“I’ve already booked four tickets,” Laila continued. “For you, Michelle, Sophia, and me. It’ll be so much fun!”
Before I could respond, Michelle leaned back in his chair, looking completely unbothered. “Don’t worry about the flights. I have a private jet.”
Laila blinked in surprise. “Oh! Well, I mean, that’s very generous of you. I guess that solves that.”
Sophia was practically shaking with laughter beside me, and I could feel the heat rising to my face again. This was not how I expected today to go.
Michelle turned to Laila, clearly intrigued. “So, is this wedding a love match or an arranged one?”
Laila’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s love! Ravi and I have been together for years. We met in college, and it’s been an adventure ever since. He proposed to me in the most romantic way—on a boat in the middle of the Thames!”
I smiled, happy for her but also trying to keep myself from melting into the floor. Laila was practically glowing with happiness as she described how much she loved Ravi, how they’d been through so much together, and how she couldn’t wait to start the next chapter of their lives.
As I listened, I glanced over at Michelle. He was watching Laila intently, asking questions here and there, but every now and then, I caught him glancing at me, a small, knowing smile on his face. It was like he was enjoying watching me squirm in this situation.
Eventually, Laila finished her story and clapped her hands. “So, it’s settled! We’re all going to India for my wedding. It’s going to be the best time of our lives.
I forced a smile, nodding along, but inside, I was screaming. This was not how I’d imagined spending the next week. I barely knew how to handle Michelle in a normal situation, and now we were about to be thrown into a whirlwind of Indian wedding festivities, all while pretending to be a couple.
“Great,” I said, plastering on the most convincing smile I could manage. “Can’t wait.”
Michelle, of course, looked like he was having the time of his life.
As we wrapped up the conversation and Laila left to finalize more wedding plans, I couldn’t help but glance at Michelle again, wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into.
And knowing him, he wasn’t going to make it easy for me.