by Miranda Lee
The action allowed her to recover her composure a little. But her heart was still thudding loudly behind her ribs.
Finally, she turned her head to face him, her expression firm.
‘I did not become engaged till after last Friday night,’ she told him.
‘And you think that exonerates you?’ he muttered under his breath. ‘You called me a liar and a cheat, Jordan. Yet all the while you were the liar and the cheat. I know exactly what happened last Friday night. You thought you could have your little bit of Italian rough whilst your wealthy lover was away. But when you found out I wasn’t who you thought I was, you panicked and did a flit. But not before you dumped a whole lot of guilt on me. You even called me a coward. No one calls me a coward, Jordan, and gets away with it.’
Jordan’s head spun with his vicious attack.
But Gino wasn’t finished yet.
‘What would happen, do you think, if I told your precious Chad what you were up to while he was away? I doubt you’d be wearing that ring for long. Or working here at good old Stedley & Parkinson’s. They’re a rather old-fashioned firm, aren’t they?’
Once again all the blood drained from Jordan’s face. It was as well she was sitting down. Shaken, she picked up her wine glass again and took another swallow, giving herself some more time to regroup. Finally, she put down the glass and picked up her fork.
‘So this is what tonight’s about, is it?’ she bit out, spearing another prawn. ‘Revenge. How typically Italian.’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘You would have done well to remember that when you wounded my pride and my sense of honour.’
‘You call it honourable to have me investigated?’
‘A man has to do what a man has to do.’
‘And what do you have to do, Gino?’
‘I have to be with you again, Jordan,’ he said, his voice vibrating with the most seductive passion. ‘Tonight.’
Jordan only just stopped herself from gasping with shock. Instead, she lanced Gino with a dagger-like glare.
‘Dream on, buster. Look, I told you last Friday night, and now I’m telling you again: it’s over between us—has been for ten years. Last Friday was a big mistake on my part.’
Gino smiled a coolly confident smile. ‘If you don’t do as I ask, I will inform your beloved fiancé of what happened last Friday night. Somehow I don’t think it will rate with him that, technically, you weren’t engaged at the time.’
‘Why, you ba—’
‘Hush,’ he broke in swiftly. ‘You wouldn’t want dear old Frank hearing you swear at such a valuable new client, would you?’
Jordan shot him another savage glare before grabbing her wine glass again, and emptying it down her throat with a speed which had several pairs of eyes glancing her way across the table in surprise.
She never drank much at these company dinners. Never did anything which anyone could call remotely reckless, let alone wicked.
Jordan knew Gino’s ultimatum was wicked. And without care for her future well-being. His wanting her was strictly sexual, his desire made stronger by his need to strip her not just of her clothes, but her pride.
But, despite all that, Jordan had the dreadful suspicion that in the end she would go along with what he wanted—not to keep him silent, but because, down deep, she wanted to spend the night with him.
That had to be wicked. She had to be wicked.
Either that, or she was still in love with Gino.
But how could she love a man who would do such an appalling thing as try to blackmail her into bed?
No, this wasn’t love which was making her blood roar like red-hot lava around her veins. This was lust. A lust so exciting and so powerful she had no chance of resisting it.
Sexually, she was putty in his hands. Always had been. Always would be.
At the same time, she could not allow Gino to suspect her weakness. That would be setting herself up as a perfect victim for his voracious carnal appetite. Safety lay in letting him think that she despised him for doing to her.
Though she wasn’t at all sure that she did. His daring excited her almost as much as his desire.
God, but she was hopeless where he was concerned.
Thank heavens she’d perfected the art of steely composure to cover any inner nerves.
‘Blackmailers are notorious for never being satisfied,’ she said curtly. ‘If I do as you want, what’s to stop you demanding more after tonight is over?’
‘I give you my word that if you spend tonight with me I will go home to Melbourne in the morning and never bother you again.’
‘Pardon me if I don’t put much store in your word.’
‘What alternative do you have?’
‘I could tell Chad what happened last Friday. He might understand.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Gino growled.
And neither would Chad, Jordan conceded.
‘It’s not too much to ask, is it?’ Gino went on. ‘One night with me, in exchange for a lifetime as Mrs Chad Stedley.’
‘What’s to stop you causing trouble in my marriage at some future date?’ she asked curtly.
‘Nothing—other than my word. But I presume once you’re married you will move to New York. As much as I’m going to enjoy having you at my beck and call tonight, I doubt I’d travel that far for a repeat performance.’
‘Does your family know that you’re a heartless, conscienceless bastard?’
His face darkened. ‘Leave my family out of this.’
‘Gladly.’
‘So, what’s your answer, Jordan?’ he snapped. ‘Do we have a deal or not?’
Jordan grimaced, then gritted her teeth. Why was it just him who could make her heart race like this? Who could make her forget her pride? Could make her crave the things he did to her?
It infuriated her that she was so weak with him when normally she was a strong person, with a mind of her own. If it was any other man she would tell him to go to hell. There again, if it had been any other man she would not have willingly had sex with him last Friday night.
‘You do realise I will hate you for ever for doing this?’ she grated out under her breath.
‘It’ll be worth it,’ he returned coldly.
What would be worth it? she wondered, and worried.
An image popped into her mind, that of herself standing naked in front of him last Friday night and swearing that he would never see her like that again.
Bold, brave, foolish words. Words which Gino was obviously determined to make her regret.
The waiter taking away their empty entrée plates put paid to any conversation for a short while. The second of their crystal wine glasses was filled. Still white, but a Chardonnay this time, instead of the crisp Chablis which had accompanied the seafood cocktail. Clearly the main course was going to be something light.
‘I should tell you to go to hell,’ Jordan bit out, once the waiters had moved away from them.
‘You should, but you won’t. You’ll do what I want.’
‘Don’t be so sure.’
‘But I am. Because I’m not the only one here who’s heartless and conscienceless. Not to mention ambitious. Oh, yes, let’s not forget ambitious.’
‘You know nothing about the woman I am.’
‘Neither do I want to. I might have once. But I now prefer to keep my knowledge of you to the biblical kind. So is it a deal, Mrs Stedley-to-be? Will you trade total surrender of your body tonight in exchange for my silence?’
‘Total surrender?’ she repeated, aghast and aroused at the same time.
‘Didn’t I mention that?’
‘No,’ she said, shaken by the level of her sexual excitement.
‘I will not ask you to do anything you haven’t done with me before,’ he said.
Jordan suppressed a groan. That didn’t leave much, if anything at all. Her sex-life with Chad had never been as adventurous as it had been with Gino. Not even remotely.
‘You have ten seconds to seal t
his deal,’ he said, with chilling finality, ‘or I will do what I said I would. Immediately. I have your fiancé’s personal phone number in the menu of my cellphone. A simple visit to the gents will give me the opportunity to call him right now.’
Jordan would have called his bluff if he’d been any other man.
But she knew Gino meant it.
‘In that case,’ she said, her stomach contracting as she tried to imagine the consequences of Gino’s appalling ultimatum. ‘It’s a deal.’
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN she agreed, it confirmed to Gino what he’d suspected all week: the sweet, sensual, sincere girl he’d once known and loved had turned into a cold-blooded, gold-digging bitch.
She didn’t love Chad Stedley. How could she when she’d gone to bed with him last Friday night?
But she was wearing Stedley’s engagement ring.
Gino had been furious when he found out she was engaged.
No, furious didn’t do his emotions justice; he’d been absolutely livid.
He’d come here tonight without any definite plan in mind. He’d just wanted to look her in the eye and let her know that he knew what kind of woman she was. But the moment he’d set eyes on her, standing there with her back to him, looking sexy in that prim little black dress, desire had consumed every pore in his body. By the time she turned round, he’d hated her for the way she could make him crave her, despite everything.
Blackmailing her into bed had not been on his agenda, however, till she’d added insult to injury by arrogantly pretending she didn’t know him.
That had been the moment when he’d resolved to bring her down a peg or two. To use her own ruthless ambition against her, at the same time satisfying his own rapidly escalating desire.
Even so, he’d still been shocked when she’d agreed to his proposal. Shocked and stirred. Right now, he was so turned on it would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t been sitting at a table.
‘I hope you’re happy now,’ she muttered.
Happy? No, he wasn’t happy. How could be happy when the only reason she was going to go to bed with him was so that she could marry someone else?
Or was that really the case?
A sidewards glance showed him that her face was flushed. Was that anger, or the same kind of excitement currently heating his own blood?
The sexual chemistry between them had once been electric. That chemistry had still been there last Friday night. There was no reason to believe that had changed just because she’d found out he wasn’t who she thought he was.
Jordan might hate him, but underneath her hatred lay a desire as insidious and as irresistible as his own for her.
Gino could not wait to have her to himself—to have her stand naked for him the way she’d said she never would again—to have her do all the things he’d taught her ten years ago.
The main course arriving only slightly soothed the primitive passions which had begun boiling up within him.
The waiter announced that it was grilled Barramundi, served with a tomato and cucumber salsa, along with baked sweet potato and a fresh garden salad.
Gino fell to eating the meal with gusto. His appetite was always good when his testosterone was up and running.
Jordan, he noticed, just picked at her food. But she drank plenty of wine.
Good, he thought. She was even sexier when she was tipsy, and beautifully co-operative. Or she’d used to be.
‘When?’ she suddenly whispered.
He did not turn his head to speak.
‘When, what?’ he muttered, then forked some more of the mouthwatering fish between his lips.
‘When does all this begin? And where?’
He let her wait for his answer till he’d savoured the fish, then swallowed.
‘As soon as we can get away from here. I’ve booked a suite at the Regency. One of their themed honeymoon suites.’
He could feel her eyes burning into him.
‘How could you?’ she breathed.
‘How could I what?’
‘Book a honeymoon suite.’
In actual fact he hadn’t booked the honeymoon suite with any ulterior motive. He certainly hadn’t imagined Jordan would be sharing it with him when he had. But the Regency was having a huge convention there this weekend. The only rooms available had been a couple of the honeymoon suites. Gino hadn’t thought to book in advance, and couldn’t be bothered going to another hotel.
But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Clearly his booking a suite had struck a nerve with her.
Good.
‘It’s called the French Bordello suite,’ he told her with a devilish smile. ‘I thought it rather appropriate.’
Jordan shook her head at him.
‘You really are wicked.’
‘And what are you, Jordan?’ he countered coldly. ‘An innocent?’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘If I was, I wouldn’t have anything to do with you.’
I should have told him to go to hell, Jordan groaned silently as she dropped her eyes back to her plate.
Gino’s blackmailing her into bed was bad enough. His booking a honeymoon suite was so insensitive that it bordered on sadism. Surely he must know she’d once have given anything to share a honeymoon suite with him? Becoming Mrs Gino Bortelli had been her ultimate dream.
Becoming Gino Bortelli’s mistress for one night was more like a nightmare.
Yet the prospect excited her unbearably.
Her hands shook when she picked up her knife and fork, her stomach churning so much that she simply could not eat.
Gino could, she noticed bitterly. And so could everyone else. But it was no use. Her appetite was gone. Putting her cutlery down, she picked up her wine glass and sipped it slowly.
‘No wonder you’re thin,’ Gino said. ‘You don’t eat.’
Jordan ignored him and continued sipping her wine. But it wasn’t long before she began to feel light-headed, so she put the glass down, picked up her fork and forced a few mouthfuls of the meal down past the lump in her throat.
‘That’s better,’ Gino said, and she threw him a sour glare.
‘It’s a wonder I can eat at all, with what’s ahead of me tonight.’
‘Really? When I’m excited I eat all the more.’
‘How can you possibly enjoy going to bed with a woman who hates you?’
‘That’s one thing you should learn about men, Jordan. They do not have to love or even like their sexual partner to enjoy themselves in bed.’
‘You do realise that what you’re going to do tonight is tantamount to coercion?’
‘Oh, come now, Jordan. Coercion?’ A dry laugh broke from his lips. ‘I’ll remind you that you said that when you beg me for more.’
Jordan sucked in sharply, both at his arrogance and at the hot wave of desire which suddenly flooded her body.
Still, after what he’d just said Jordan finally accepted that Gino had never loved her at all. She’d just been a sex object to him, a plaything.
What he’d loved about her was being able to take her virgin body and turn her into his ultimate fantasy female. Their affair had had nothing to do with love, it had just been sex.
Last Friday night had been more of the same. And so would tonight.
Jordan’s thoughts hardened her heart to him, but it didn’t dampen her desire. She still wanted to be with him, and the disgusting realisation was making her hate herself almost as much as him.
‘You have no soul,’ she muttered.
‘Then we’re well matched,’ he countered.
‘Why don’t you stop talking and just let me eat?’
‘Be my guest.’
Each mouthful felt like swill, but it was better to eat than to drink, or—heaven forbid—get into some destructive repartee with Gino.
By the time the waiter came round to remove her plate—everyone else had finished their meal by then—Jordan had managed to consume a reasonable amount, washed down with two full glasses of wine.
Frank standing up and toasting all their new clients was a welcome distraction. But she wasn’t so keen when he also toasted her success with the Johnson case this week. It reminded her that there wouldn’t be too many similar successes for her in the near future.
Not at Stedley & Parkinson.
Her allowing Gino to blackmail her into bed with him meant the death of her life here—because it meant the death of her engagement to Chad.
She could not in all conscience spend tonight at Gino’s sexual beck and call, then go on to marry Chad; he deserved better than that.
Which meant she would have to call him tomorrow and break off their engagement, as well as resign from Stedley & Parkinson on Monday.
For how could she go on working here under those circumstances? Better that she get out now, with her reputation still intact. She would tell Frank that the pressure of the job and the distress of her broken engagement was too much, and that she needed a break from working. That way she could leave with proper references.
Maybe she’d treat herself to a holiday somewhere far far away.
Not Italy, though. China, perhaps. Somewhere different.
As she sat there, making plans, her mind reluctantly returned to Chad. He was going to be very annoyed with her. But he would survive. Jordan comforted herself with the thought that they hadn’t shared a grand passion.
‘Have you set a date for your wedding?’ Gino suddenly asked, snapping her back to the reality of where she was and whom she was sitting next to.
She turned cold eyes his way. ‘I thought I said I didn’t want to talk.’
‘Better than sitting here twiddling our thumbs.’
‘I don’t agree.’
‘I hope it’s not a shotgun wedding?’
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Why is it ridiculous? Stedley’s a very good catch. You wouldn’t be the first girl to snare herself a wealthy husband with pregnancy.’
‘I earn a very good salary. I don’t need a wealthy husband.’
‘You know the famous saying: you can never be too rich or too thin.’
‘Can we terminate this conversation, please?’
‘Fine. But I must ask one thing before we have sex tonight.’