It Started With A Proposition: Blackmailed into the Italian's Bed / Contract with Consequences / The Passion Price

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.’

Jordan winced at Gino’s verbalising of what they would be doing later. Not for the first time tonight she thanked heaven no one could overhear their conversation. The empty seats on either side of them had been a godsend—as was the very convenient arrangement of flowers sitting between them and the people opposite.

‘What is it?’ she said with an irritable sigh.

‘Does Chad wear a condom when he has sex with you?’ Gino asked.

‘Do you use a condom when you sleep with your girlfriend?’ she shot back.

‘Always. Now answer the question.’

Jordan didn’t want to, but she could see no way out.

‘Yes,’ she admitted.

‘I thought he might.’

Jordan blinked. ‘Why do you say it like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like you think Chad’s sleeping around on me.’

‘Well, you’re sleeping around on him.’

‘Last Friday night was the one and only time.’

‘What about tonight?’

‘You can’t possibly count tonight. You’re forcing me.’

‘Ahh, yes. So I am,’ he said, but his tone was sarcastic, as though he knew full well she was more than willing.

Jordan closed her eyes against this most terrible truth. What kind of person was she to do this? Okay, so she was going to break her engagement. That, at least, was the right thing to do. But she was still going to spend the night with a man who didn’t care for her, and who had a girlfriend back in Melbourne.

Both of them were technically being unfaithful to their partners.

Gino was right. She was just as bad as he was.

When she opened her eyes again her dessert was sitting in front of her—some kind of chocolate concoction, with swirls of cream and berries decorating the plate. The waiter had also refilled her wine glass.

She reached for it first, hoping to drown her scruples with alcohol. Gino, she noted out of the corner of her eyes, was already eating his dessert. By the time she picked up her dessert fork he’d finished.

‘Do you intend working after you’ve become Mrs Chad Stedley?’

Jordan sighed again. She wished she could tell Gino to shut up, in no uncertain terms, but she doubted he would comply.

‘I will never give up working,’ she told him, her tone curt.

‘Not even when you have a baby?’

Jordan gritted her teeth. ‘Not even then.’

‘Do you want children?’

Jordan hated the way her heart lurched. ‘What business is that of yours?’ she snapped. He didn’t want to marry her, or have children by her. All he wanted was to have sex with her.

‘Just curious.’

‘Don’t be. We made a deal. And it only includes access to my body. Not my soul. Or my goals. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to leave this topic of conversation alone for the rest of this dinner. I’ve agreed to what you wanted. Be happy with that.’

‘I won’t be happy till you’re in my arms again.’

Jordan smothered a groan. Why did he have to say things like that? And why did she have to respond so mindlessly?

She closed her eyes, thinking that happiness would never be hers again. Not if she did this. Being with Gino again would destroy her. She could feel it already—the disintegration of her will, the longing to surrender herself to him. It was insidious, this power he had over her. She could feel it, radiating out from him, drawing her into his spell.

Jordan put down her fork, knowing that this time she would not be able to force herself to eat a single bite.

‘Men like you should be castrated,’ she muttered.

Gino laughed softly. ‘Then what would women like you do?’

‘Have some peace in their lives.’

‘How boring that sounds. At least you won’t be bored tonight. You’re going to feel more alive than you have in years.’

‘And you, Gino? What will you feel?’

He smiled at her. ‘You do like cross-examining people, don’t you? My feelings will be my own. I don’t share them with women who hate me.’

‘Yet you expect me to share your bed? How perverse is that?’

‘Extremely perverse,’ he whispered as he leant towards her, his breath warmth against her ear. ‘I will think about your hatred when you stand naked before me. And when you beg me to do it to you—as you will, Jordan my sweet. Because I know that part of you through and through. I know your secret needs and desires. You might hate me, but down deep, in that place reserved for the darkest of truths, you want me as much as I want you. No. Perhaps not that much. Here—give me your hand and see what you’ve already done to me.’

Jordan stiffened in the chair when he took her hand and pulled it into his lap, pressing it against him.

‘Stop that,’ she hissed as she snatched her hand away. ‘I will not be humiliated by you, Gino. You will treat me with respect. If you cross the line of decency just once, the deal’s off. I’ll tell Chad myself I had a one-night stand with an old boyfriend and take my chances. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Perfectly.’

‘I have no intention of leaving this dinner with you, either. I will go to the Regency independently. Leave my name and a spare key card for me at Reception.’

‘But they’ll think you’re a paid whore if I do that!’ he protested.

‘They wouldn’t be far wrong, then, would they?’

Gino scowled. ‘I’ll tell them that my wife will be joining me after a late flight from Melbourne.’

‘No,’ Jordan snapped. ‘I will not pretend to be your wife.’

‘You’ve become very stubborn.’

‘I’m an adult woman now, Gino, not a silly young girl.’

‘I preferred the silly young girl,’ he said, his expression still disgruntled.

‘I’m sure you did. So the deal’s off, is it? You don’t want me any more now that you’ve discovered the stubborn new me?’

He stared into her eyes for a long moment. ‘Stop trying to pick a fight with me, Jordan. You and I both know that neither of us wants that. Now eat your dessert; it’s delicious.’

‘I can’t eat any more,’ she said, and pushed the plate away.

‘You need taking in hand, woman. Which I will take pleasure in doing as soon as this dinner is over.’

‘In your dreams,’ she snapped.

‘No. In the French Bordello suite at the Regency. In a four-poster bed. All night long.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JORDAN was standing at the window behind her desk, staring blankly down at the city, when her office door opened.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ Kerry said.

Jordan turned and smiled a small smile at her friend. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Because you’re in some kind of antisocial mood. You couldn’t wait to get out of that dinner, could you?’

‘I didn’t have much of an appetite tonight,’ Jordan said.

‘The food was good, though, wasn’t it?’

‘Very good.’ Jordan glanced at her watch. She would have to be leaving soon. Gino had warned her not to be late, and he’d already been gone ten minutes.

‘How did you get on with Mr Bortelli?’

‘What?’ Jordan looked up. ‘Oh, not too bad. He liked the food.’

‘He didn’t make a pass at you, did he?’

Jordan stiffened. ‘Why on earth would you say that?’

‘Just a feeling. You seem…agitated.’

For a split second Jordan was tempted to tell Kerry everything. But she just couldn’t.

‘I’m still strung up after last week. The Johnson case was rather draining. I…I might take a break from work shortly.’

‘You know, I think that would be a good idea. Why don’t you surprise Chad by flying over to the States?’

Jordan shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to do that.’

‘You’re not having second thoughts about marrying him, are you?’

Jordan swallowed. ‘Actually, I am.’

‘Oh, Jordan,’ Kerry said, her face falling.

‘Yes, I know. I’m a fool. Probably a bigger fool than you realise.’ Suddenly tears filled Jordan’s eyes. She had to get out of here, and fast. Blinking madly, she wrenched open her desk drawer and retrieved her purse from where she’d left it earlier.

When she lifted her eyes back to Kerry’s she had herself under control again. ‘I need to go home and get a good night’s sleep. See you on Monday.’

‘Look after yourself,’ Kerry called after her as she hurried from the office.

No one was in the lift on the ride down, giving Jordan the perfect opportunity to slip off her engagement ring and pop it into the zippered section of her purse.

No way could she wear Chad’s ring whilst she was with Gino. He wouldn’t allow it, anyway.

The security man in the foyer asked Jordan if she wanted him to call her a taxi. The Regency was a relatively short walk away—only a couple of blocks. But on a Saturday night any walk in the city could be dangerous—especially for a woman on her own.

Jordan would normally have taken a taxi, but not this time.

She welcomed the cool night air outside, welcomed the risk.

If someone mugged her or accosted her, then it was only what she deserved.

Of course no one did either, and she was pushing her way through the revolving glass doors of the hotel’s entrance in less than ten minutes. By then her heart was pounding behind her ribs and her face felt flushed. Another glance at her watch showed that it was only just after ten-thirty.

Her stiletto heels clacked on the marble floor of the arcade as she hurried along it—past the bouncer who stood at the doorway to the Rendezvous bar, past the bistro and the boutiques. The arcade led into the hotel foyer proper, and the reception desk was on her left.

Jordan hated that she’d have to deal with a male desk clerk. She’d been hoping for a woman.

‘Ahh, yes…Ms Gray,’ he said, with a knowing little smirk on his fleshy lips as he handed her the key card. ‘Mr Bortelli said you were to go right up. The French Bordello suite is on the twelfth floor.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied coolly, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

The ride up to the twelfth floor felt surreal, with her conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Her brain kept telling her not to do this. She could still turn round and go home. But her body refused to obey.

Before she knew it she was standing in front of the door which had French Bordello Suite marked on it in gold letters.

Should she knock, or let herself in?

Her right hand balled into a fist as she lifted it to knock.

A few short but agonising seconds passed before the door was wrenched open.

Gino stood there, his black eyes glowering impatience at her. He’d taken off his jacket, she noted, and the bow-tie. He’d also opened the top button of his white dress-shirt.

‘You took your time,’ he grumbled.

‘I walked.’

‘You what?’ he snapped, then grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, kicking the door shut with his foot. ‘What kind of risk-taker are you, woman?’

Jordan could have told him, in no uncertain terms, but decided not to say a word. Instead, she yanked her hand out of his, and was about to head further into the room when she ground to a halt.

‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed.

Jordan just stood there, shaking her head at the over-the-top décor. Had the designer copied rooms in a real French Bordello? she wondered. Or simply come up with what a French Bordello might be like in his or her imagination?

The colours were too rich for Jordan’s taste, the furniture way too ornate. At the same time there was no denying that whoever had designed this place had created a decadent, sensual atmosphere: dark red-coloured carpet on the floor, wood-panelled walls, two gold brocade-covered sofas, with elaborately carved legs. Marble-topped tables, gold velvet drapes at the window, subdued lighting from heavily fringed lamps whose bases were brass figurines of naked women.

The bedroom was separated from the sitting area by double doors, currently open, giving Jordan a glimpse of the bottom half of the four-poster bed Gino had mentioned. In there the colours were reversed—the carpet gold and the walls covered in a deep red wallpaper, the velvet drapes around the bed the same dark red colour.

‘Does that mean you like it or not?’ Gino said drily by her side.

‘It’s not exactly my cup of tea,’ she replied.

‘Wait till you see the bathroom.’

A stab of nervous tension suddenly set her bladder on edge. ‘I think I need to go see it right now.’

‘Be my guest,’ Gino invited.

‘Alone,’ she added sharply.

No television, she noted as she hurried through the sitting room, nor a mini-bar. Though there was an antique cabinet in one corner which could have hidden anything. A bottle of French champagne—already opened—sat in a silver ice bucket on the marble-topped coffee table, along with some tasty little treats: strawberries…caviar…And—if she wasn’t mistaken—chocolate truffles.

Was that Gino’s doing? Or the hotel’s?

The bedroom was as sumptuous as it looked from a distance. The bedspread was made of red and gold quilted satin, the pillows of gold satin, as were the sheets. The brass bases of the bedside lamps were more naked ladies in various poses. An elegant glass bottle stood next to one lamp, filled with what looked like a body lotion of some kind.

The bathroom lived up to Gino’s warning: black marble dominated the room, covering the floors, walls and ceiling. The twin sink units were made of the same marble, the bowls as well. The toilet, bidet and corner spa bath were in a rich cream colour, the taps and other fittings gold-plated. The towels were scarlet, as were the floor mats. Several small alcoves had been carved high up in the marble walls. Tonight they held gold candles which were lit, looking like glow-worms in a dark cave—a dark, sexually charged cave.

Jordan could only imagine what Gino had in mind for that room later on. She shuddered anew as she washed her hands at the sink, grateful that the dim light wouldn’t let her see the excitement in her eyes reflected in the mirror.

She combed her slightly breeze-blown hair, but didn’t bother to refresh her lipstick. What was the point? It wouldn’t be there for long.

Gathering herself, she exited the bathroom and returned to the sitting area, where Gino was standing at the window with his back to her. He turned at the sound of her entry. He was holding a near full glass of champagne, and he was frowning.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he began.

‘Yes?’

‘I was wrong to blackmail you into this. It’s not what I intended to do when I went to that dinner tonight. It’s not what I want.’

Jordan had never been so astounded in all her life.

‘What is it that you want, then?’

‘I still want you, Jordan. That hasn’t changed. But I want you to come to me willingly. I don’t want to force you, or even to seduce you. I want what we once had together. You—eager to surrender yourself to me. I don’t want you to hate me in the morning. And I don’t want to hate myself.’

Jordan just stared at Gino, his amazing and highly unexpected turnaround bringing a fierce frustration which found its voice in anger.

‘I don’t think you know what you want, Gino,’ she said sharply. ‘Look, if it makes you feel any better, then I have come here willingly. It’s not because you blackmailed me. You have some kind of hold over me. I admit it. You turn up out of the blue, crook your finger, and silly Jordan comes running. But don’t delude yourself into thinking we can recapture what we once had. For one thing, I don’t love you any more. How could I possibly love a man who has me investigated behind my back? But, yes, I still lust after you. You were right in what you said at that table tonight. You know what I like. You know all my dark little secrets.

‘So here I am,’ she added, reaching up behind her back and pulling the zipper down. ‘Doing what I vowed I’d never do. But not because of your threat to tell Chad. I’m hoping that once I’ve had my fill of you tonight I’ll be able to walk away in the morning and make a decent life for myself with a man who cares about me and wants to marry me.’

Gino watched, appalled but cripplingly aroused, as she peeled her dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving her standing there in her underwear.

Not prim and proper underwear, but sexy underwear. A black satin teddy, with suspenders attached to shiny flesh-coloured stockings.

Her glittering blue eyes held his boldly whilst she kicked off her shoes and then unflicked each suspender. With a haughty toss of her lovely blonde hair she moved over to the coffee table and put one foot up, rolling the stocking down to her toes before snapping it off.

Gino’s gut crunched down hard at the thought that she might have performed like this for Stedley. Though if she had, then what was she doing here?

No, it’s only with me that she’s like this. She’s virtually said as much.

The other stocking followed, then the pearls, which she tossed aside as carelessly as the nylons. When she hooked her fingers under the thin satin straps of the teddy Gino’s stopped breathing altogether. His blood, however, was still roaring round his veins, engorging his flesh to titanic proportions.