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

‘How did he get it to you? By international courier?’

‘No. He left it with me before he went overseas.’

‘Because he knew you’d eventually say yes.’

‘How could he have known?’

Kerry rolled her eyes at her friend. ‘Because multimillionaires like him don’t get turned down.’

‘I’m not marrying him for his money, Kerry.’

‘I know that. You’re marrying him because you love him, and because you’ve finally got over that Italian fellow. Speaking of Italians—I hope you don’t have anything against Italian men in general, because I’ve seated you next to one tonight.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s Henry’s new client. Contracts and mergers. I didn’t expect him to accept the invitation, since he lives in Melbourne. But, lo and behold, he did.’

Jordan’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t possibly be Gino, could it? Would fate be that cruel?

‘I hear he’s quite a hunk,’ Kerry added. ‘And filthy rich. He’s a builder. Of seriously big buildings.’

Jordan’s chest tightened. Oh, no, she thought with a mixture of disbelief and despair. It had to be Gino.

Fortunately, Kerry was in the process of checking the name cards and wasn’t looking at her. Jordan didn’t want her friend putting two and two together. And she just might if she saw the near panic which was bubbling up inside Jordan.

‘Does he have a name, this Italian?’ she asked, using her extra-cool court voice—the one she could conjure up no matter how she felt inside.

‘What? Oh—Bortelli. Gino Bortelli. Look, I’ll have to love you and leave you, Jordan. I can hear voices coming down the hallway. I need to let the caterer know that everyone’s arriving.’

She bustled off without giving Jordan a second glance, which was just as well.

For the life of her Jordan didn’t know how she hadn’t fainted. All the blood had definitely drained from her face when she’d heard that dreaded name, her head swirling alarmingly. She stumbled over and gripped the back of the nearest chair, afraid to turn around and face the main doorway. The voices were much closer, indicating that people were moving into the room.

‘Ahh…so there you are, Jordan,’ a male voice boomed.

Jordan winced. It was Frank—Kerry’s boss. And her boss.

Impossible to do anything but turn round. Yet she knew as she did so that Frank wouldn’t be alone. He would have their most valuable new client with him: the very wealthy Mr Gino Bortelli.

Despite being mentally prepared for the encounter, Jordan was still stunned by the sight of Gino, dressed to kill in a magnificent black dinner suit, complete with a white dress-shirt and a black bow-tie. Stunned, too, by what she saw in his black eyes.

Not surprise, as she would have imagined if this was a cruel twist of fate. But coldness. And contempt.

The realisation that he’d known she would be here tonight was instantaneous. The only question remaining was how come? Jordan hadn’t told him where she worked.

Gino should have been as shocked as she was.

But he wasn’t. Not at all.

Which meant what?

Somehow she managed a polite smile, but all the while her head was spinning with unanswered questions.

‘Hello, Frank,’ she said, reefing her eyes away from the man by his side.

‘Mr McKee was looking for you,’ Frank said, a touch irritably.

‘Really? Where is he?’

‘He had to go home. He said he could feel a migraine coming on.’

‘What a shame,’ Jordan said, thinking to herself that she wished she’d thought of that. Then she could have fled this extremely difficult scenario.

Running away from difficult scenarios, however, had never been Jordan’s style. She liked to face things head-on.

Which was hardly what she was doing at this moment.

It took an effort of will, but she finally turned her eyes back to meet Gino’s.

‘And who’s this, Frank?’ she asked coolly, and watched with some satisfaction as Gino’s shoulders stiffened.

But no way was she going to give him the opportunity to say anything embarrassing in front of her boss. And he might, if she admitted to already knowing him.

‘An extremely valuable new client,’ Frank replied pompously. ‘Mr Gino Bortelli, CEO of Bortelli Constructions, one of Melbourne’s finest building companies. Henry helped him out last week with a contract.’

Ahh, so that was how he came to be here. Jordan wondered if someone had mentioned her name whilst he’d been here, signing that contract.

No, that couldn’t be right. Gino hadn’t even known she was a lawyer last Friday night, let alone where she worked.

‘Hopefully, Gino will do Stedley & Parkinson the honour of letting us represent him in all his future business dealings in Sydney,’ Frank added.

Jordan was used to Frank sucking up to wealthy clients, but he seemed to be outdoing himself this time.

‘Unfortunately Henry called in sick at the last moment,’ he swept on, before Jordan—or Gino—could say a single word. ‘So I’ve been introducing Mr Bortelli to everyone. Jordan’s one of our finest young litigators, Gino. She’s gained quite a reputation during the few short years she’s been with us.’

‘Don’t flatter me, Frank. How do you do, Mr Bortelli?’ Jordan said, but refrained from holding out her hand.

‘Very well, thank you,’ Gino replied with a cool nod.

‘I’ll leave you in Jordan’s good hands. I seem to recall Kerry has seated you next to each other. But don’t get any ideas, Gino. Our Jordan has recently become engaged. To Chad Stedley,’ he threw over his shoulder as he turned away. ‘Our senior partner’s son and heir.’

‘Congratulations,’ Gino said, his tone polite but his coldly contemptuous eyes spearing into her very soul.

Jordan could not help the guilty colour stealing into her cheeks. Luckily, Frank had turned away, and was already showing other guests to their seats around the table.

‘So, is this the way we’re going to play it tonight, Jordan?’ Gino went on caustically. ‘Like we’re total strangers?’

Jordan gave him a long, cold look of her own. ‘Everyone is sitting down for dinner, Mr Bortelli. I suggest we do the same. This way…’