Page 5 of Tempting Tessa

“Yes! Hallelujah!” she whoops so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “My clit thanks you in advance.”

“You’re fucking deranged.”

“Speaking of getting fucked, you’re meeting me tonight at Solstice.” Of course she’d pick the most pretentious cocktail lounge in the city. “Nine o’clock. Wear something slutty.”

“I have work to do, Nat.”

“You always have work to do. For once in your life, prioritize your pussy over your portfolio.”

I step into the elevator, punching the button for my floor. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think, just do. Like that hot bartender with the sleeve tattoos I'm planning to climb like a tree tonight.” She pauses. “Unless Marino shows up. Then I’ll generously step aside.”

“He’s not going to show up there.”

“Why not? Rich guys drink too.” The elevator doors slide open on my floor.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bitch. And bring me something that vibrates harder than my toothbrush, or I swear to god⁠—”

I hang up because I simply cannot with her right now.

As I reach my apartment door, I spot a paper bag sitting on the floor. The sleek black and gold Cedar and Stone logo jumps out at me immediately. My stomach growls in response. What a fucking traitor.

“What the hell?” I mutter, fishing out my keys. There’s a small, black note card attached to the top with an elegant “M” monogram embossed in gold. I don’t need three guesses to know who it’s from.

I snatch the bag and unlock my door, dropping my purse on the entry table before pulling the card free. The handwriting is bold and masculine; the strokes heavy against the expensive cardstock.

You didn’t eat at the baby shower. Your body and brain need fuel. Stop skipping meals and working yourself to death, no matter how much my questioning about prototypes grates on you.

- M

Heat flushes through me—not just anger, though there’s plenty of that. It’s the unsettling realization that he noticed. While I was busy trying not to stare at him, he was watching me closely enough to see I didn’t eat.

“Fucking stalker,” I mutter, but my stomach growls again, louder this time.

I open the bag and the smell hits me—their rosemary garlic steak, the truffle mac and cheese I always order, and what looks like a slice of chocolate torte. My mouth waters instantly. Cedar and Stone is impossible to get into without a reservation weeks in advance, yet somehow Matteo got my exact order delivered to my door. They don’t even fucking do delivery.

I want to throw it in the trash out of spite, but I’m not that stupid.

As I set the food on my kitchen counter, my phone buzzes with a text. Speak of the devil.

Matteo

Eat, Contessa.

Two words. That’s it. How the fuck does he even know the food arrived?

Are you having me followed? That’s creepy as shit.

His response comes instantly.

Doorman texted when it was delivered. Eat your dinner. I’ll know if you don’t.

I glare at my phone.

Last time I checked, you weren’t my father.