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,’
