Page 6 of Tempting Tessa

Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear. Whatever he initially typed, he thought better of it.

Thank God for that. Now be a good girl and eat.

The words “good girl” send a pulse straight between my legs. Fuck, this is so messed up. He’s literally like family. I called him uncle for years.

I’m not your good girl. I’m your business partner.

You can be both.

I stare at the message, my heart pounding. Before I can respond, another text comes through.

Just eat your food before your steak gets cold, stellina.

Little star. I hate when he slips into Italian, because it makes my thighs clench every damn time.

I toss my phone onto the counter and rip open the containers. The smell hits me again, and my stomach growls loud enough to echo in my empty apartment. God, I’m starving.

The first bite of steak practically melts on my tongue, and I make an embarrassing noise that I’m glad no one’s around to hear. I shovel the truffle mac into my mouth next, savoring the rich, creamy cheese and the earthy punch of truffle.

This is so good. You know how takeout never tastes quite as good once it’s traveled? This somehow tastes exactly like it came straight from the kitchen.

I demolish the meal in record time, scraping every last bit from the containers like I’m afraid someone will take it away. The chocolate torte is sinful. Dark and not too sweet, with a hint of sea salt that makes me close my eyes in pleasure.

When I’m done, I sit back, feeling both satisfied and pissed off. Satisfied because the food was incredible. Pissed because Matteo was right—I needed to eat. And I hate when men are right. It doesn’t happen often, but it causes my eye twitch every time I have to admit a man said something I agree with.

I grab my phone, snap a picture of the empty containers, and send it to him.

Thanks for the fuel. It’s gonna all get burned off later tonight anyway.

Where?

Just one word, but I can feel the demand behind it. The possessiveness. The fucking audacity.

I don’t answer. Instead, I toss my phone onto my bed and strip off my clothes as I head to the bathroom.

The hot water feels amazing on my tense muscles. I take my time shaving everything, exfoliating, and conditioning my hair. I want to look good tonight.

I’m toweling off when I hear my phone buzzing repeatedly from the bedroom. I ignore it, slathering my body with scented lotion before wrapping myself in my robe.

When I finally check my phone, there are three messages from him.

I asked you a question, Contessa.

Are you ignoring me?

I don’t appreciate being ignored.

I could answer him, but I won’t.

I need to put him out of my mind, and put getting under or on top of someone tonight in.

Guy, girl, both. Nat is right, I need to pay a little more attention to my pussy than my portfolio and maybe an orgasm or two that’s not self-induced will clear the cobwebs and knock some sense into me.

Chapter 2

Matteo

There’s a special kind of torture in watching what you own be touched by someone else. And make no mistake—Contessa Gallo is mine. Has been since the moment she walked into my house in that fucking pencil skirt, asking for my money with those big brown eyes.