Miranda Lee - It Started With A Proposition

‘I can’t, Mum. Sorry. I have to go to Sydney to meet up with this architect. He wants to show me some preliminary plans.’

Not true. But his mother wasn’t to know that. Still, he would have to go somewhere. Maybe to the snow? He liked skiing, and there was still some good snow in the ski-fields. He’d tire himself out every day and make sure he fell asleep each night the moment his head hit the pillow.

He hadn’t slept well since returning from Sydney, his mind constantly tormented with what ifs.

What if he hadn’t made that foolish promise to his father?

What if he’d been able to go back for Jordan without feeling lousy?

What if he’d told her the truth about himself before they’d gone up to his hotel room last Friday night?

This last what if was easily answered: he’d been too aroused to delay, or to risk Jordan rejecting him after his explanations.

His need for her had transcended common-sense.

Was he still in love with her? he wondered. Or did he just want to escape with her again, as he had all those years ago?

She’d claimed she’d never forgotten him.

Gino believed her.

How could either of them forget the fantasy life they’d lived together, such an erotically charged existence, full of passion and pleasure? But underneath all the sex had been true affection. He hadn’t just used Jordan, he’d truly cared for her—and she for him.

But they were different people now. She was more cynical and less trusting. And he was…well, he was trapped by his previous deceptions.

And yet he would give anything, do anything, to be with her like that again.

‘You should spend more time with your family, Gino,’ his mother chided.

Gino’s teeth clenched down hard in his jaw, the cords in his neck standing out. ‘I have to go, Mum. Ciao.’

He grimaced as he hung up, the Italian word for goodbye reminding him of the last time he’d heard it. On Jordan’s lips, as she swept out of the hotel room. And out of his life.

His life…

Gino glanced down at the city spread out below him. He was on top of the world so to speak. On top of the world financially as well as professionally. He had more money than he would ever need, a fancy penthouse and a fancy car: a Ferrari, no less.

As for Bortelli Constructions…Although it had already been a well-known building company when he’d taken it over, under his guiding hand the company had gone from strength to strength, gaining an enviable reputation for reliability and quality. His hard work and astute business decisions had made every member of the Bortelli family millionaires several times over, and he himself was close to becoming a billionaire.

But such successes counted for nothing if you weren’t happy.

Jordan’s various accusations and taunts still haunted him.

Perhaps because they were true. Technically, he had lied and cheated. But he wasn’t the coward she thought he was.

He did know what he wanted.

Her.

But what was the point in pursuing her when she would not welcome his attentions?

Gino could see no way of her getting Jordan to spend time with him—short of kidnapping her and imprisoning her in some secluded place with him.

That idea had some appeal as a male fantasy.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t see the adult Jordan being one of those female hostages who would ever feel kindly towards her captor. When she’d stood naked in front of him and told him he’d never see her like that again he’d believed her.

Gino sighed, then headed for the steel cage which would carry him down to the ground again. It was knock-off time in the building trade. Not so for the boss, however, who had to go back to his office in the city and make sure the administrative wheels of Bortelli Constructions were kept turning.

Half an hour later his hard hat had been discarded and he was sitting behind his desk, a strong mug of coffee on his right and a load of correspondence in front of him. The clock on the wall was just ticking over to five when he picked up an envelope marked ‘Personal’, which his secretary hadn’t opened.

Gino winced at the thought that it might be hate-mail from Claudia.

No, he decided as he ripped open the envelope. She wouldn’t write. She’d e-mail or text message him. Girls like Claudia never put pen to paper these days.

Gino found himself staring down at a gold-embossed sheet of paper.

It was an invitation from Stedley & Parkinson.

Mr Frank Jones, the senior partner of the Sydney branch, was inviting Mr Gino Bortelli—and partner—to a new client dinner on the following Saturday evening in their boardroom. The arrival time was seven-thirty, the dress black tie. His RSVP was required by Friday; an e-mail address was provided for his reply.

Gino stared at the invitation for a good twenty seconds without drawing a breath. Then he gulped in some much needed air before letting it out with a long, slow sigh.

Fate, it seemed, had stepped in to give him one last chance with Jordan.

For surely the star of Stedley & Parkinson’s litigation section would have recently gained a new client or two? If so, she would probably be obliged to attend this dinner.

Gino’s heart raced with the thought of seeing Jordan again—especially in a situation where she could not think he was deliberately stalking her. Their running into each other again would appear to be sheer coincidence. Which, in a way, it would be.

He wouldn’t be taking a partner, of course. He no longer had a partner. Not that he would have taken Claudia anywhere near Jordan.

Gino wondered if Adrian had received an invitation.

No, probably not. Adrian had told him he’d used Stedley and Parkinson’s for legal work before. Which meant he wouldn’t be a new client.

Still, it was likely that he’d been to such a dinner before, giving him first-hand knowledge of what kind of a do this was, and especially who attended from Stedley & Parkinson.

Reaching for his cellphone, Gino looked up the menu of numbers he kept in there, located Adrian’s number and punched it in.

‘Adrian Palmer,’ Adrian answered straight away.

Although one of Australia’s most up-and-coming young architects, Adrian didn’t use a secretary, or a proper office. He worked out of his high-rise apartment, situated in the middle of Sydney’s CBD.

‘Hi, Adrian. Gino Bortelli here.’

‘Gino! I was just working on the plans for your building. I think you’re going to be seriously pleased.’

‘That’s great, Adrian. Look, I’ve received an invitation in the mail from Stedley & Parkinson.’

‘For one of their new client dinners, I presume?’

‘Yes. Have you ever been to one?’

‘Yep—last month, actually. They have these dinners once a month. You should go, Gino. The food’s always great, and so is the wine. Of course that means you’ll have to fly up. But it’s tax-deductible.’

‘It says black tie. That’s a bit formal for a dinner in a boardroom, isn’t it?’

‘That would have come down from Mr Stedley, the American owner. He’s Ivy League and one of the country-club brigade over there in the States. He’s a strong believer in social networking. Encourages his employees to socialise together, too.’

‘You sound like you’ve met this guy. Don’t tell me he flies over from the States to attend?’

‘Nope. Met his son, though. Chad Stedley. He’s doing a stint out here in the Sydney office. They sat me next to him at this dinner. Quite a talker. Got the story of his life between courses. Had a gorgeous-looking girlfriend. Another of their lawyers—Jordan something-or-other.’

Gino’s heart screeched to a halt even whilst his head whirled. Jordan had said there was no special man in her life. Yet a month ago she’d been this Chad Stedley’s girlfriend?