Page 330 of Billionaire Temptations

As soon as we stepped into the building, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“Miss Young?” Sebastian, the doorman, smiled.

“Sebastian? Oh my god. What are you doing here?”

I handed Wes the bag and my shake and gave him a hug.

“You two know each other?” Wes asked.

“We sure do. Sebastian was the doorman at my company. I had no idea you moved to New York,” I spoke.

“I moved here shortly after I left. You knew I was originally from here.”

“I know. It’s so good to see you.” I smiled.

“Still eating McDonalds, I see.” He winked. “Are you here on business?”

“Umm. No. Actually, my father fired me, and I moved here. I’m staying with Franco until I find a place.

“He fired you?”

“Yeah. Long story.” I waved my hand.

“You know how I always felt about your father. I’m sorry he did that to you. You don’t deserve it.”

“Thank you, Sebastian. Now that I know you’re in New York let’s catch up over lunch sometime.”

“I’d like that, Miss Young. Enjoy your evening.”

We stepped into the elevator, and Wes inserted his key to the top floor.

“You better be nice to Sebastian,” I said as I opened the bag and took out a fry. “My father never was.”

“I like Sebastian. I’ve never once been rude to him.”

“Good. Because if I find out otherwise, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

He let out a chuckle.

When the door opened, an elegant, marbled foyer greeted us, leading to an incredible spacious dining and living area decorated in muted grays and white. I followed him to the kitchen, which housed hand-painted cabinets in white, black Italian marble countertops, top-of-the-line appliances, and an Italian marbled island that sat in the middle.

“Would you like to eat at the table or the island?” he asked.

“The island is fine.”

I took a seat on one of the stools, and Wes sat down next to me. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out my Big Mac and handed it to me along with my large fries. Taking the lid off my shake, I picked up a fry and dipped it in.

“That is disgusting,” he spoke.

“Have you ever tried it?” I narrowed my eye at him.

“No, and I don’t ever want to.”

I popped it in my mouth with a smile, picked up another fry, dipped it, and held it up in front of him.

“You’re making assumptions again, Mr. Carter. You can’t do that until you know for a fact that you don’t like it.”

He sat there with a smirk across his lips as he took the fry from me and placed it in his mouth.

---