Page 4 of Tempting Kat (Lust & Luxury #2)

“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.”

“And what happens when I close my eyes and see Katarina instead of whatever girl I'm paying to fuck?” The words come out rougher than intended.

“Then you tell Vivi exactly what you want. Girl who looks like your bartender, acts like her, whatever. She'll find a match. That's the whole point, and Vivi is damn good at her job.”

“Fuck that,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “I don't want a substitute. I want her.”

“Then take her,” Matteo says simply, like I'm overthinking the most basic equation in the world. “You've got more money than God. What's stopping you?”

I rub my hand over my face, feeling the stubble scratch against my palm. “It's not that simple.”

“Sure it is. You want the girl? Grab her, throw her in your car, bring her to my cabin upstate. Keep her there until she realizes she's meant to be yours.” He bursts out laughing at his own suggestion. “I've got that place if you need it. Remote, private, no neighbors for miles.”

“You're a sick fuck, you know that? I’m not kidnapping her.” But I'm smiling even as I say it. A dark, twisted part of me considers it. Having her all to myself, no escape, no distractions. Just my kitty kat, naked and waiting for me whenever I want her.

“Takes one to know one.” He's still chuckling. “Fine, fine. Do it the boring way. Ask her out like a normal person. But if you change your mind, the lake house offer stands. I've got a room that locks from the outside.”

“You're a fucking psychopath.”

“And you love me for it.” He yawns loudly. “Look, I gotta get some sleep. But think about what I said about Vivi. Might help take the edge off until you figure out how to make your move on your Katarina.”

“Goodnight, Matteo.”

“Ciao, Connie.”

The call ends, and I toss my phone onto the bed, running both hands over my face. Matteo's always been a little unhinged, but he means well. In his twisted way, he's trying to help.

Grabbing my phone again, I pull up the contact I've had saved for years but never used.

I type out a message before I can talk myself out of it.

Matteo mentioned your business.

Vivi

Of course, I just got off the phone with my dear cousin. Access code: GALLO447. Happy window shopping, Conrad. The premium profiles should suit your particular tastes.

I stare at the screen, heat rising up my neck. That sneaky bastard.

How the fuck did you know I just want to see what you've done here?

Because I'm that damn good, Connie. Always have been. Browse all you want, but we both know you're looking for something specific.

I glare at the screen. I haven't seen Vivian in what, five years? Yet here she is, reading me like a fucking book.

Don't call me Connie.

Still touchy about the nickname, I see. Some things never change. Enjoy the catalog, Conrad.

Downloading the app from the link Vivi just sent me, I open the app to a sleek, minimalist, black background with silver text. Nothing overtly sexual. Literally could be any random ass site for anything.

I enter the access code Vivi sent, and the screen transforms. A grid of photographs appears—women and men, all impeccably dressed, all beautiful in different ways.

Some are smiling warmly at the camera, others with a more reserved, mysterious expression.

Each photo has a small icon in the corner—different colored gems, I realize. Ruby, emerald, sapphire, diamond.

I click on a photo of a brunette with a ruby designation.

A profile appears with basic stats—age, height, education, interests.

Nothing explicit, nothing crude. It could be a dating profile except for the “arrangement preferences” section, which delicately outlines availability (weekends only), accommodation requirements (five-star hotels preferred), and financial expectations (high).

I browse through a few more profiles, impressed despite myself at the elegance of the presentation. This isn't some tacky service. It's exactly what Matteo described—a high-end matchmaking platform for people who want companionship without complications.

I'm about to close the app when a new profile loads in the diamond category. My heart fucking stops.

“What the FUCK?” I hurl my phone across the room, watching it bounce off the wall and clatter to the floor. “No. No fucking way.”

I'm out of bed in an instant, stalking across the room to snatch the phone off the floor. And there she is, staring back at me with those goddamn verdant eyes that haunt my dreams.

Katarina. My fucking bartender. In a black top, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, and around her throat—a black velvet choker with a small silver pendant that reads “Call Me Daddy.”

My cock is instantly rock hard, straining against my boxer-briefs as rage and lust battle for dominance in my chest.

“Kitty kat,” I growl at the screen, scrolling through her profile with shaking hands.

Katarina, 24. Seeking arrangement with an established gentleman.

Available weekends and select weeknights.

Fridays completely unavailable. Enjoys art, music, good conversation, and being spoiled.

Looking for a generous man who appreciates a woman with a mind of her own.

Diamond status: exclusive arrangement only.

There are more photos—Kat in a skintight red dress that hugs every curve, Kat leaning against a wall in ripped jeans and that fucking choker, Kat with a cocktail in hand, looking over her shoulder with those bedroom eyes.

I scroll to her preferences. My jaw clenched so tight it aches.

Seeking: Dominant personality, financial security, mutual pleasure. Age preference: 35-55. Arrangement type: Exclusive. Hard limits: No violence, no sharing, respect for personal boundaries.

I can’t help but to start to pace the length of my bedroom. My mind's racing, piecing together the timing. She just joined—her profile says “new.” Is this why she won't take more shifts at the bar? Is she planning to loan herself out to some asshole who'll pay to fuck her?

Over my dead fucking body.

I hit the “request connection” button before I can think twice. A message pops up: “Diamond status companions require premium membership for direct contact. Upgrade now?”

I slam my thumb against the upgrade button, entering my credit card information. Five thousand dollars for premium access. I'd pay fifty times that to get to her first.

Another screen appears: “Congratulations on your premium membership. Your personal concierge will contact you shortly to discuss your preferences.”

My phone rings almost immediately. Vivian.

“Well, that was fast,” she says, amusement dripping from every syllable. “Found a bartender you like, huh, Conrad?”

“Cut the shit, Vivi,” I snarl. “You set me up.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Vivi purrs, but I can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Bullshit.”

She laughs, the sound light and musical. “You are correct. As soon as Matteo said you were obsessing over a bartender named Katarina, I knew. I just processed her application yesterday.”

My grip tightens on the phone. “And you didn't think to mention that?”

“And ruin the surprise? Never.” She pauses. “So, shall I arrange a meeting? I'm thinking you two would have quite the chemistry.”

“I want it to be a surprise,” I say, my voice dropping low. “Don't show her my picture. Keep it as vague as possible.”

“Oh, Conrad.” The way she says my name is almost a purr. “I'll craft something special. Something she won't forget. How does this Saturday sound?”

“Perfect.” My cock throbs at the thought of having Kat in just three days. “One more thing. I don’t want her booked with anyone else. Not a single fucking booking except with me.”

“Excuse me?” Vivi's tone shifts from playful to business-like. “Conrad, that's not how this works. She's a new profile, but she's already generating significant interest. Diamond tier companions?—”

“I don't give a fuck about your tiers or protocols.” My voice is deadly quiet now. “Name your price. Whatever it costs to lock her down exclusively.”

A long pause follows. I can practically hear Vivi calculating numbers in her head.

“That would be...substantial,” she finally says. “We're talking six figures minimum for exclusivity without the prior protocols.”

“Done.” The word leaves my mouth without hesitation. “Send me the paperwork.”

Vivi sighs dramatically. “Oh alright. Damn, I'm losing my best girls to you damn bastards.” She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “First Francesca to Alexander, now Katarina to you. At this rate, I'll have no diamonds left.”

The line goes dead before I can respond. I stare at my phone, her words echoing in my head. Francesca. Why does that name sound familiar?

Doesn't matter. All that matters is Katarina will be mine in three days. No one else will touch her, taste her, fuck her. Just me.

Only ever me from now on and if I find out otherwise, I’ll have to take care of it and Matteo would be all too happy to help me.