Page 9 of Tempting Kat
“Right.” The ice in his glass clinks again. “And that work just happens to involve staring at some twenty-something's ass every Friday night?”
I grind my teeth. “I'm being hands on.”
“Oh, I bet you'd like to be hands on,” Matteo snickers. “Santi says you look at this girl like she’s your last goddamn meal.”
“Santiago needs to mind his own fucking business,” I growl.
“What's her name? Katherine? Katya?”
“Katarina,” I correct automatically, then curse under my breath when Matteo howls with laughter.
“Knew it! You've got it bad, my friend. How long have you been torturing yourself over this one?”
“Six months,” I admit, seeing no point in lying now. “And it's not torture.”
“Strategic blue balls then,” Matteo says. “Why haven't you made a move? You don’t particularly care about morality.”
“It's complicated.”
“It's only complicated because you're making it that way. You want her, take her.”
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “She's young.”
“How young?”
“Twenty-four.”
Matteo whistles. “Twenty years, huh? That's a gap.”
“Thanks for the math lesson,” I snap.
“Hey, I'm not judging. My ex-wife was fifteen years younger than me. Age is just a number once everyone's legal.” He pauses. “But if you're too chickenshit to approach her, you should talk to Vivi.”
“Vivi?” I frown. “Your cousin?”
“Yeah. She runs Infinity now.”
I vaguely recall hearing about this—Vivian Marino taking over some tech bros business and transforming it into some high-end matchmaking service for the wealthy.
“What does Vivi have to do with anything?”
“Jesus, Connie, for a smart guy you can be a fucking idiot sometimes.” Matteo's voice cuts through the line. “If you're toohung up on this bartender to make a move, at least get your dick wet somewhere else.”
“What are you saying?” I down the rest of my drink, feeling the burn spread through my chest.
“I'm saying Vivi's built a very high-end companionship service. Discreet, professional, expensive as fuck. Perfect for guys like you who don't have time for relationship bullshit.”
“You want me to hire a prostitute?” I can't keep the edge from my voice.
Matteo sighs heavily. “It's not prostitution, asshole. It's an arrangement. These girls are vetted, clean, and looking for exactly what you're offering—money in exchange for their time and attention. No messy feelings, no workplace complications.”
“I don't need to pay for sex.” My jaw tightens.
“This isn't about need. It's about efficiency.” He sounds like he's explaining something to a child. “You're spending what, five, six hours every Friday night staring at this girl's ass and going home with a hard-on? Think of all the shit you could get done if you weren't wasting time jerking off to fantasies.”
I grunt, not wanting to admit he has a point.
“Look, I know you,” Matteo continues. “You're wound tight as a fucking spring. Always have been. This way, you get what you need, when you need it, without the hassle. It's basically outsourcing your sex life, which is exactly what a workaholic control freak like you should be doing.”
