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

‘An address. But no home phone number as yet. Lawyers like Ms Gray usually have unlisted numbers.’

‘Give me the address,’ Gino said, striding over to sit at the writing desk which contained everything a businessman away from home might require, including internet access.

He picked up the complimentary pen and jotted Jordan’s address down on the notepad. It was an apartment in Kirribilli, one of the swish harbourside suburbs on the north side of Sydney, not far from the bridge. He ripped off the page and slipped it into his wallet.

‘Does she live alone?’ came his next question, his throat tightening.

‘We don’t know that yet, Mr Bortelli. We’ve only been on the job a few hours. We need a little more time to fill in the details of the lady’s love-life. There’s only so much we can find out via the internet and phone calls.’

‘How much more time?’

‘Possibly only a few hours. I’m having one of my best field operatives tail Ms Gray when she leaves work this evening. We’ve been able to secure a recent photo, courtesy of her driver’s licence. He’s currently staking out the exit to her building.’

Gino winced at this invasion of Jordan’s privacy. ‘Is that really necessary?’

‘It is, if you want to know the lady’s personal status tonight. Which you said you did.’

Yes, he did. He was booked on an early morning flight to Melbourne.

When he’d flown in to Sydney yesterday Gino had had no intention of hiring a private eye to find Jordan. But during his taxi ride from the airport to the city the memories he’d been trying to bury for the last decade had resurfaced with a vengeance.

The need to know what had become of her had overridden common sense. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night with thinking about her.

By morning, his curiosity had become a compulsion. A call to a police friend in Melbourne had soon provided him with the number of a reputable Sydney investigative agency. By ten this morning he’d set in motion the search for the first-year law student he’d lived with for a few idyllic months, all those years ago.

And supposing you find out there’s no man in her life? What do you intend doing with that information?

Gino grimaced.

You were going to ask Claudia to marry you this weekend. You’ve even bought the ring. What in heaven’s name are you doing, chasing after an old flame who probably hasn’t given you a second thought in years?

He reassured himself. I just want to see her one more time. To make sure that she’s happy. Nothing more.

What could be the harm in that?

‘Keep me updated every hour,’ he said brusquely.

‘Will do, Mr Bortelli.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f5c6d57e-f1b4-58a5-9f4e-a17e8d47217f)

JORDAN glanced up at the clock on the wall and willed the hands to get to ten to six, at which time she could reasonably excuse herself and go home.

She was attending the happy hour which the practice provided in the boardroom every Friday afternoon from five till six. It was a tradition at every branch of Stedley & Parkinson, introduced by the American partners when they’d begun their first practice in the United States forty years ago.

Employees who either didn’t come—or left early—were frowned upon by the powers-that-be.

Normally Jordan didn’t mind this end-of-week get-together.

But it had been a long and difficult week, both professionally and personally. Making small talk seemed beyond her today, which was why she’d taken her glass of white wine off into a corner by herself.

‘Hiding, are we?’

Jordan looked up as Kerry angled her way into the same corner, carrying a tray of finger-food.

Kerry was the big boss’s PA—the nicest girl in the place, and the closest Jordan had ever had to a best friend. A natural redhead, she had a pretty face, soft blue eyes, and fair skin which freckled in the Australian sun.

‘I didn’t feel like talking,’ Jordan said, and picked up a tiny quiche-style tart from the tray. ‘What’s in these?’

‘Spinach and mushroom. They’re very nice, and not too fattening.’

Jordan popped the tart into her mouth, devouring it within seconds. ‘Mmm, these are seriously yummy. I might have another.’

‘Feel free. So what’s the problem? Other than Loverboy having flown off home today, leaving you alone for two whole weeks?’

Jordan winced at Kerry calling Chad ‘Loverboy’. Yet it had been his office nickname from the first day he’d waltzed in, with his wide, all-American smile, film star looks and buckets of charm. There wasn’t a single girl in the place who wouldn’t have willingly gone out with Jack Stedley’s only son and heir—Kerry included. But it had been Jordan he’d zeroed in on, Jordan whom he’d been dating for the past few months.

‘Come on, you can tell me,’ Kerry added in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I’m not a gossip like some of the other girls around here.’

Jordan knew this was true. One of Kerry’s many good qualities was her discretion.

She’d also been round the block a few times, with one marriage and several boyfriends behind her—the last having broken up with her only recently. Yet she maintained a sense of optimism about life which Jordan admired and often envied.

Jordan looked into her friend’s kind blue eyes and decided to do what she very rarely did. Confide.

‘Chad asked me to marry him last night.’

‘Wow!’ Kerry exclaimed, before shooting Jordan a speculative look. ‘So what’s the problem? You should be over the moon.’

‘I turned him down.’

‘You what? Wait here,’ Kerry said, and hurried off to give the food tray to one of the other girls to distribute, sweeping up a glass of champagne before rejoining Jordan, a stern look on her pretty face. ‘I don’t believe this. The Golden Boy asked you to marry him and you said no?’

‘I didn’t exactly say no,’ Jordan hedged. ‘But I didn’t say yes, either. I said I wanted some time to think. I said I’d give him my answer when he gets back from the States.’

‘But why? I thought you were mad about the man. Or as mad as a girl like you is ever going to get.’

‘And what does that mean?’

‘Oh…you know. You’re super-intelligent, Jordan, and very self-contained. You’re never going to lose your head over a man, like I do.’

Jordan sighed. Kerry was right. She wasn’t the sort to lose her head over a man.

But she had once. And she’d never forgotten him.

‘What is it that’s bothering you?’ Kerry persisted. ‘It can’t be the sex. You told me Chad was good in bed.’

‘He is. Yes, he is,’ she repeated, as though trying to convince herself that there wasn’t anything missing in that department.