Page 38 of Tempting Tessa

I sigh, dropping my head into my hands. “I didn’t.”

Nat’s perfectly shaped eyebrows shoot up. “Then who—” She stops, eyes widening with understanding. “Oh my god. Him again? Stalker Daddy?”

“Don’t call him that,” I snap, even as my pussy clenches at the word ‘daddy.’

“But he is stalking you,” she says, moving toward my front door. “This is what, the fourth dinner delivery this week?”

“Fifth,” I admit, watching as she peeks through the peephole.

“Holy shit, it’s the same delivery guy too.” She turns back to me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s hot. Can I open the door?”

“No!” I scramble off the couch, but I’m too late.

Nat swings the door open, greeting the startled delivery guy with her most dazzling smile. “Hi there! Another special delivery?”

The guy—tall, dark-haired, probably mid-twenties—shifts uncomfortably. “Yes, ma’am. For Ms. Gallo.”

I appear behind Nat, glaring at her before facing the delivery guy. “Thanks, but I didn’t order anything.”

His eyes widen slightly. “The order was placed by Mr. Marino. He said to tell you...” He pauses, checking his phone. “’Starving yourself won’t make me go away.’”

Nat makes a choking sound beside me, halfway between a laugh and a gasp.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, heat flooding my face. “Fine. Give it here.”

The delivery guy hands over two large bags that smell incredible, along with a smaller package wrapped in black tissue paper. “The small one is, uh, not food,” he adds.

Nat actually cackles as she snatches the bags from my hands, her eyes never leaving the delivery boy’s face. “Let me take those for you,” she purrs, leaning in way too close. “You know, I’d fuck you senseless if you weren’t on the clock.”

“Oh my GOD!” I grab her by the shoulders and physically yank her back as the poor delivery guy turns approximately seventeen shades of red. I slam the door in his shocked face, yelling through the wood. “I’m so sorry! She’s not right in the head!”

I can hear his hurried footsteps retreating down the hallway as I spin around to face Nat, who’s already digging through the bags like she didn’t just sexually harass a complete stranger.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss, snatching the small black package before she can get her hands on it.

“What?” She shrugs, pulling out containers that smell like heaven. “He was cute. And clearly into me.”

“He was terrified,” I correct her, shoving the black package under a couch cushion. Whatever Matteo sent that isn’t food, I don’t need Nat seeing it.

“Terrified, turned on—same thing.” She pops the lid on a container of what looks like lobster risotto. “Holy shit, Tessa. Your stalker daddy has excellent taste. This is from Vincenzo’s.”

I freeze. Vincenzo’s is the most exclusive Italian restaurant in the city. They don’t do delivery or takeout.

“That’s impossible,” I mutter, peering over her shoulder. “Vincenzo doesn’t do takeout.”

“Apparently he does for Matteo fucking Marino.” Nat is already grabbing plates from my kitchen. “There’s enough food here to feed an army. Risotto, pasta, some kind of truffle situation, and—” she lifts another container “—tiramisu for dessert.”

My stomach growls loudly, betraying me. I haven’t eaten all day, too busy with design meetings and supplier calls to remember food exists. And now here’s a feast, hand-delivered from a restaurant with a six-month waiting list.

I hate how well he knows me.

“So, are we eating this or what?” Nat asks, already spooning risotto onto a plate. “Because I’m not above enjoying your sugar daddy’s food even if you’re too proud.”

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” I snap, even as I grab a plate. “He’s just...persistent.”

Nat snorts. “He’s been sending you food and gifts for a week, and you haven’t responded to a single text. Most guys would have given up by now.”

I stab a fork into the risotto, shoving a bite into my mouth to avoid answering. It’s fucking incredible—creamy, rich, with chunks of lobster so tender they practically melt on my tongue.