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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.’
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?’
