Miranda Lee - It Started With A Proposition

When she’d confided over his third cup of coffee that her flatmate had decided to drop out of university and go back home to live, leaving her to find the rent alone, Gino had grabbed the opportunity, saying he’d been looking for a place to live and asking would she consider having him as her flatmate?

His eyes must have told her that he wanted to be more than just her flatmate. So when she’d agreed to his moving in the next day, Gino had been a serious state of arousal even before he’d set foot in the place. He hadn’t lasted more than half an hour before he had kissed her. One thing had quickly led to another, with Gino thanking his lucky stars that he’d come into that restaurant.

His discovering that Jordan was only nineteen—and a virgin—had been a huge shock. But subsequently a huge delight.

She’d become his perfect fantasy lover—her youth and inexperience allowing him to live out his own fantasy role as the masterful older male. He’d been thrilled by her falling for him despite thinking he was just a labourer, wallowing in her acceptance of him as a man in his own right. He’d revelled in the sexual power he’d held over her. What man wouldn’t have? She was an incredibly beautiful girl, with a brilliant mind and a strength of character which was formidable.

Yet, in his arms, she was all sensual submission.

Not passive, though; Jordan was too passionate for passive.

He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her back then, quickly becoming addicted to the primal feelings she’d evoked in him. It seemed that hadn’t changed. He could not wait to carry her into this bath and for their lovemaking to begin again.

A loud rapping on the bathroom door had Gino whirling round, his heart lurching with instant worry.

He snapped off the taps, then wrenched open the door. There she stood, the object of his desire, her lovely face coldly furious, her hands jammed into the pockets of the white towelling robe.

‘I know I agreed that explanations could wait till the morning,’ she snapped. ‘But that was before I saw this.’

Gino’s stomach rolled over when she pulled her right hand from the robe pocket and held out his slightly crumpled plane ticket.

He’d forgotten that he’d left it on that damned desk, having emptied his suit pockets before changing clothes late this afternoon.

‘This ticket is for tomorrow morning,’ she swept on before he could say a word. ‘Very early tomorrow morning. Which rather puts paid to your claim that you’re up here for the weekend.’

‘I wasn’t going to take that flight, Jordan. Not after I ran into you. I was going to ring up and change it to Sunday.’

‘You still lied to me, Gino.’

‘I just twisted the truth a little.’

‘Twisted the truth?’ she repeated, with a caustic gleam in her eyes. ‘And how would you describe giving someone a false name? Because this ticket is made out to a Mr Gino Bortelli.’

‘Jordan, I—’

‘I take it that’s your real name?’ she interrupted savagely. ‘Bortelli? Not Salieri, like you told me ten years ago?’

Gino tried to keep calm, but a very true panic hovered in the wings of his mind. ‘Salieri is my mother’s maiden name. I took it temporarily when I came to Sydney for reasons of privacy.’

‘Reasons of privacy?’ she repeated scathingly. ‘Like, people might recognise you as what, exactly? A rock star in hiding?’

‘No, as Gino Bortelli.’

‘Sorry, Gino. But I’m none the wiser.’

‘My family are rather big in the construction business. I didn’t want any special favours when I first came to Sydney. I’d not long finished an engineering degree at university in Rome, and I—’

‘Excuse me?’ she snapped. ‘Are you telling me you’re a qualified engineer? I thought you were a labourer.’

‘That’s what I was working as when I first met you.’

Jordan looked totally bewildered. ‘But why? That would be like me still working as a waitress instead of a lawyer.’

Gino sighed, then reached for the other bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. There seemed little point in staying naked. The erotic night he’d been planning was well and truly over.

‘Could we go out into the other room?’ he suggested, after he drew the robe on and tied the sash around his waist. ‘I could do with a drink.’

He strode past her out into the hotel room proper, heading for the mini-bar.

‘Do you want a glass of wine?’ he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Jordan as she reluctantly followed him. ‘There’s a half-bottle of red here which isn’t too bad.’

‘No, thanks,’ she returned crisply. ‘What I want to know is why you lied to me about so many things.’

‘Perhaps you should sit down?’ he suggested, indicating the sofa opposite the television.

She didn’t sit down, moving past the sofa to stand in front of the window, with her arms crossed and her eyes still sceptical.

Gino poured himself a full glass of wine, taking a decent swallow before turning to face her across the room.

‘I was tired after studying for years. Tired of being pushed by my parents to be an over-achiever. It’s a common enough phenomenon in Italian families. I demanded a year off, to just be myself and not my father’s only son. I wanted to earn my own money. Be totally independent. Live a simpler, less stressful life. That was why I decided to work with my hands, and why I changed my name. Because I didn’t want my employer recognising the Bortelli name and treating me differently.’

Jordan frowned. ‘People would recognise the Bortelli name even out here in Australia?’

This was the moment Gino had been dreading. But the truth had to come out—especially if he wanted to continue seeing Jordan. And he did, very much.

‘I think you might have misunderstood something about me all those years ago,’ he began carefully. ‘I didn’t exactly come to Sydney straight from Rome. After I finished my degree I went home to my family first.’

‘So where in Italy does your family live?’

‘My family doesn’t live in Italy, Jordan. They migrated to Melbourne not long after I was born. That’s where they live. Melbourne.’

She stared at him with stunned blue eyes. ‘You’re saying you’re Australian?’

‘I hold dual citizenship. Both Italian and Australian.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this ten years ago?’

‘I wish now that I had. But back then I was also tired of being Italian. I needed a change. I needed to find myself. Then, after I met you, Jordan, I just needed you.’

She stared at him, her eyes going cold again. ‘Only till your family needed you, Gino. Then you dropped me like a hot cake.’

Gino sighed. She didn’t understand. She could never understand what it was like to be the only son in an Italian household.

‘If anything happens to me, Gino,’ his father used to say all the time, ‘then it is your job to look after the family. Your mother and your sisters. And the business, of course.’

‘And what about this weekend, Gino?’ Jordan threw at him. ‘Was it to be more of the same? You needed a change so you came to Sydney? Because Sydney is full of silly girls only too willing to give you sex?’

‘I came to Sydney on business,’ Gino pointed out, his sense of honour totally offended by her accusations. ‘I was going to fly back to Melbourne tomorrow, remember?’

‘Sorry,’ she quipped sarcastically. ‘I momentarily forgot under the pressure of all these amazing revelations. So you ran into me, and you thought, Wow, there’s good old Jordan—the dumb bird who let me screw her every which way. I’ll bet she’s good for another go. I’ll just give her a line of bull. She’d believe anything I tell her. And presto—you were right. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.’