Page 63 of Tempting Tessa

I nod weakly, unable to summon the energy for words. My body feels like it’s been hollowed out with a rusty spoon, and the room is still spinning slightly at the edges.

“Sorry,” I croak, mortified. This is the second time I’ve puked in front of him, and somehow it’s even worse than the first. At least the first time we weren’t in the aftermath of him double-stuffing me like a depraved Oreo.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, reaching past me to flush the sink out with water. “It’s normal.”

I want to tell him there’s nothing normal about this. Waking up in Matteo Marino’s bed with morning sickness from carrying his baby doesn’t scream an ounce of normal but I’m too busy trying not to cry from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

Why does he have to be so sweet and also so damn demanding? It’s playing table tennis with my emotions.

I lean against the counter, trying to regain some composure while Matteo bustles around the kitchen like he’s auditioning for a role as the world’s most terrifying househusband. After my spectacular morning puke session, he practically carried me downstairs and deposited me at the kitchen island like a fragile package.

“You need to eat something,” he says, sliding a plate of dry toast and a cup of ginger tea in front of me. “Small bites. It’ll help settle your stomach.”

I eye the toast suspiciously. “I just emptied everything I’ve eaten since grade school, and you want me to eat?”

“Trust me.” He brushes my hair back from my face with a gentleness that still surprises me. “The nausea gets worse when your stomach is empty.”

I take a reluctant nibble of toast, expecting my body to reject it immediately, but the bland carbs actually seem to calm the churning in my gut. Matteo watches me eat with an intensity that should be creepy, but somehow isn’t. Maybe I’m having a case of temporary insanity.

“I need to go to the office today,” I say between careful sips of tea. “I have meetings that I can’t miss.”

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “You were just sick.”

“Morning sickness. You said it yourself—it’s normal.” I gesture at the toast. “Look, I’m eating. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t respond, just turns to the stove where he’s making himself some complicated egg dish that smells amazing and horrifying at the same time. The silence stretches between us, tense and loaded.

“Matteo,” I try again, “I can’t just…stop living my life because I’m pregnant. I have a company to run.”

“I’m aware,” he says, his back still to me. “Eat your toast.”

I roll my eyes at his retreating form, but finish the toast anyway. To my surprise, it does help. By the time he sits down with his own breakfast, I’m feeling almost human again.

He eats methodically, checking his phone between bites, apparently content to let the subject drop. Which is suspicious as hell because Matteo never drops anything.

When he finishes, he stands abruptly, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “I need to take care of some business. There’s more tea in the pot if you want it.”

And then he’s gone, striding out of the kitchen without another word about my plans for the day. It’s so unlike him that I’m momentarily stunned. No demands? No laying down the law? No “you’re staying home where I can keep an eye on you, stellina”?

I don’t trust it for a second.

Still, I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I slip upstairs as soon as I hear his office door close, moving as quietly as possible to the bedroom. I shower quickly before throwing on a simple black dress, applying minimal makeup to hide the lingering pallor from my morning sickness, and gather my bag. God, I hope I can make a sneaky exit.

I creep down the stairs, wincing at every creak, and make it to the front door without hearing a sound from his office.

My fingers are on the doorknob when his voice cuts through the silence.

“Stellina.”

Fuck.

I freeze, my back to him, hand still on the door. Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear him…

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I turn slowly, plastering what I hope is an innocent smile on my face. Matteo stands at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, looking like a predator who’s just spotted his prey trying to escape.

“I was just going to grab some fresh air,” I lie.