Page 40 of Tempting Kat
Henry gets out and walks around to my door, opening it with a flourish that makes me feel like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's life.
“Have a good night, Miss DeLuca,” he says, his face carefully blank.
“Thanks, Henry,” I manage, forcing a polite smile despite the turmoil inside me. “For the ride.”
I slide out of the car, painfully aware of the cool night air against my bare pussy under my skirt. The bite mark on my inner thigh throbs with each step as I stomp toward my building's entrance.
The elevator's broken—again—so I trudge up the stairs, my legs still wobbly from being strapped to that wall while Conrad worked his magic between them.
By the time I reach my apartment door, I'm a sweaty, hungry, sexually frustrated mess. Three orgasms and still being sexually frustrated is a fuck-ass position to be in. I jam my key into the lock, twist it with more force than necessary, and push inside.
Inside my apartment, I kick off my shoes and head straight for the kitchen. I yank open the fridge door and stare atthe pathetic contents: half a pizza from two days ago, some questionable Chinese takeout, and a sad-looking half-eaten pint of blueberries. The pizza wins by default.
I grab the box and flop onto my couch, wincing as my sore body makes contact with the cushion. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out with a grimace.
Conrad Gallo
Did you make it home safely?
Oh, he can fuck off. I toss my phone aside and take a bite of cold pizza. The cheese is rubbery, and the crust has gone stale, but I'm too lazy to heat it up.
My phone buzzes again. I try to ignore it, but curiosity wins out. I grab it, reading his next message.
You need to eat something and drink some water. Take a hot bath and get some sleep.
Who the fuck does he think he is? My dad? The irony of that thought after I called him Daddy multiple times tonight isn't lost on me. I toss the phone back onto the couch cushion and continue chewing my sad dinner.
The phone lights up again. And again. And again.
“For fuck's sake,” I groan, snatching it up.
Katarina. Respond.
I need confirmation that you’re taking care of yourself.
This isn’t a request; it’s non-negotiable. If you won’t take care of yourself, I’ll be forced to show up there and force you.
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly strain something. The audacity of this man. I snap a quick picture of my pathetic slice and send it.
I'm eating. I don't have a bathtub, but I have wine and beer, a shower and my bed. Happy now?
No. That looks like shit. Order something fresh.
It’s midnight. Nothing is open except maybe McDonald’s, and I’m not putting pants on and going there
Three dots appear as he types. I wait, watching as they start and stop multiple times, taking another bite of this shitty food just to spite him.
Next thing I know I have money sent to my phone.
You’ve received $500 from Conrad Gallo.
What the fuck.
Put in a grocery order and use it all on that. I’m having something delivered to you tonight, and it will be there in thirty minutes.
I don’t need your fucking charity.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I do in fact want to eat something other than this.
