Page 80 of Tempting Tessa

His fist connects with my jaw before I can react—a sucker punch that snaps my head back. I taste blood, copper and warm, pooling at the corner of my mouth.

“That’s for mentioning my wife,” he growls.

I straighten up slowly, feeling my split lip with my tongue. I wipe the blood away with my thumb, studying the crimson smear on my skin.

“That’s your one and only pass,” I say, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes men piss themselves. “You’d do well to remember just who the fuck I am, Gallo.”

The air between us shifts. Conrad steps back, huffing, still angry, but something in his eyes changes. Recognition. Respect. Fear, maybe. He nods once, a sharp jerk of his chin.

Friendship got him a lot—three solid hits, a split lip, bruised ribs—but that’s where it ends. As a high-ranking member of the Del Mar Family, weakness cannot be perceived by anyone. Not even my oldest friend.

“Now,” I continue, raising my guard, “you want to keep going? Or you want to actually talk like men?”

He studies me for a long moment, his chest heaving. The rage is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but something else has crept in. Resignation, maybe. Or acceptance of the new reality.

“Talk,” he finally says, dropping his hands to his sides. “But I’m not promising I won’t hit you again, but you’ll see it coming.”

I lower my guard but don’t relax completely. “Fair enough.”

He moves to the edge of the ring and sits on the canvas, his back against the ropes. I follow suit, settling across from him with enough distance between us that he can’t reach me without getting up first.

“She’s really pregnant?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Six months. The baby’s healthy. Strong.”

His jaw clenches. “And you’re together? Like, actually together?”

I nod. “She’s living with me. Has been for a while now.”

“Living with you.” He repeats it like he’s trying to make the words make sense. “My daughter is living with you. In your house. Sleeping in your bed.”

“Carrying my child,” I add, because I’m not going to sugarcoat this. “And I’m going to marry her.”

His head snaps up. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” I meet his gaze without flinching. “I’m going to make her my wife.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “She won’t marry you. She’s too smart for that.”

“She will.” I’m certain of it. “And when she does, I want you there.”

“Fuck you, Matteo.” He runs a hand over his face. “You want me to walk my daughter down the aisle to you? After everything?”

“I want you to be part of our lives. Part of your grandchild’s life.” I pause, letting the words sink in. “She needs her father, Conrad. And your grandchild needs a grandfather.”

Something cracks in his expression—the hard shell of anger giving way to something raw and painful beneath. “You don’t get to use my grandchild as leverage.”

“I’m not.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I’m telling you the truth. She misses you. She’s been crying herself to sleep every night since Sunday.”

The information hits him harder than my fist ever could. His shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him. “She’s been crying?”

“Like a fucking baby,” I say, not softening it. “She thinks you hate her.”

“I don’t hate her,” he whispers, and his voice breaks on the last word. “I could never hate her.”

“Then tell her that.” I keep my voice steady, despite the ache in my chest. “Call her. Go see her. Stop punishing her for something that’s not her fault.”

“Not her fault?” His eyes flash with renewed anger. “She was the one who⁠—”