Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 155

A second later, a photo popped up on her phone.

On a white porcelain plate was the most mouthwatering roasted chicken leg Emmy had ever seen, glistening with juices. Next to it, scrambled eggs—fluffy and golden—sautéed meat, and a steaming bowl of stew.

Her throat tightened. Firehouse food was on a whole different level.

She sent back a drooling emoji, then snapped a quick pic of her own sad little takeout—pale rice, limp veggies—and added a pitiful puppy-face sticker for good measure.

A few minutes later her phone buzzed again.

James: Come downstairs.

Emmy’s whole face lit up. She grabbed her phone and bolted for the door.

“Ms. Lincoln, it’s still raining—do you need an umbrella?” the front desk secretary called after her.

“No, I’m good!” Emmy called back, her voice bubbling with excitement.

The elevator doors slid open and there he was—James, standing tall and steady in the lobby, holding a thermal lunchbox like it was nothing.

She practically ran over, unable to hide the way her eyes sparkled. “Is this just for me?”

She reached for the lunchbox.

He twisted his wrist and kept it just out of reach, his gaze dark and steady. “I don’t remember saying I forgave you.”

Emmy froze. “But it was a misunderstanding.”

He didn’t budge. “You still lied to me.”

That stung. Emmy’s stubborn streak flared and she looked him dead in the eye. “Oh really? What about you, James? You’re saying you’ve never lied to me? Not even a tiny, harmless one?”

His eyes narrowed, something stormy flickering in their depths.

Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the stairwell.

It was dim inside, the air thick with the smell of rain and his crisp, clean scent.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, his other hand sliding behind her head, and kissed her—no warning, no chance to protest.

Sweet, tempting, impossible to ignore.

James swallowed hard, fighting for control, his eyes almost black with something wild.

He looked at her like he might lose it right there.

Suddenly Emmy snapped back to herself. She pushed him away, stepping back to put space between them.

She couldn’t meet his eyes, her cheeks flaming. She muttered, “That’s enough, isn’t it?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly asked, “Between me and him, whose kiss is better?”

Emmy blinked, caught off guard.

She stared at her shoes, face burning, and after a long pause, whispered, “Yours.”

Before he could get smug, she shot back, “Then what about me and your ex—whose kiss do you like more?”