Page 13 of Tempting Tessa

“Wait, you can’t just⁠—”

I push open the heavy double doors without knocking. Matteo’s office is exactly what you’d expect—dark wood, leather, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. It screams old money and bigger dick energy. My mouth slightly waters as an image of his dick pops into my head.

Matteo stands with his back to me, hands in his pockets, as he stares out at the skyline. The cut of his suit emphasizes his broad shoulders, tapering down to a narrow waist. At the sound of my entrance, he turns slowly, like a predator who’s been expecting his prey.

“You’re late.” His voice is dark, rich and smooth.

“Am I?” I drop my briefcase on one of his visitor chairs. “Hadn’t noticed.”

His eyes rake over me, from my perfectly styled hair down to my heels. I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, and I hate how my nipples tighten in response. His jaw ticks. He definitely noticed.

“Fifteen minutes, to be exact.” He steps away from the window, moving toward his massive desk. “I don’t appreciate having my time wasted, Contessa. I’ll have to break you of that.”

“Then don’t waste mine by demanding in-person meetings when an email would suffice.” I cross my arms, leaning against the chair instead of sitting. Power move. “I have a business to run.”

“A business I funded,” he reminds me, his voice deceptively soft. “A business that required more patience from me than I typically offer.”

“Poor baby. Want a refund?” I arch an eyebrow, daring him.

His lips curl into something too predatory to be called a smile. “Sit down.”

“I prefer to stand.”

“And I prefer you sitting.” His tone drops an octave. “Now be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

My pussy clenches at those words. Fuck him for knowing exactly which buttons to push. I drop into the chair, crossing my legs, making sure my skirt rides up just enough to give him a glimpse of thigh.

“There. Happy?”

“Not remotely.” He sits on the edge of his desk rather than behind it, looming over me. “Where are my prototypes, Contessa?”

“They’re in development,” I say, holding his gaze. “These things take time.”

“You’re a terrible liar; don’t start trying to flex that poor skill now. You already have some; you wouldn’t have come to me without that. I know you.”

“Because I knew you’d be a fucking pain in my ass about timelines.” I shrug one shoulder. “Creative processes can’t be rushed.”

He leans forward, invading my space. “You’ve given your little friend Natalia a prototype to test, but your primary investor has yet to see a single design. Explain that.”

My stomach drops. How the fuck does he know about Natalia? “Are you having me followed?”

“Answer the question.”

“You are having me followed! Jesus Christ, Matteo, that’s⁠—”

“Smart business,” he cuts me off. “I protect my investments. Now answer me. Why is Natalia testing products I haven’t even seen?”

“She’s the target demographic.”

“And what am I?”

“A nosy investor who doesn’t understand boundaries.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Boundaries? You came to me, stellina. You asked for my money. We have an agreement.”

“An agreement that doesn’t give you the right to stalk me and know every aspect of my life.”

“I need to know every aspect of my investment.” His voice drops even lower as he leans in, placing his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me. “And you, Contessa, are my investment.”