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

‘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?’