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?
There seemed only two solutions to this conundrum. She’d either broken up with Stedley since then. A possibility, given the difficult nature of relationships these days. Or she’d lied last Friday night. Which didn’t seem possible. Jordan had a real thing about lying.
‘Jordan Gray?’ Gino said.
‘Yep. That was her name. You know her, do you?’
‘I used to.’
‘No kidding? An old girlfriend?’
‘Something like that.’
‘It’s a small world, isn’t it?’
‘It seems so.’
‘In that case you should think twice before bringing your current girlfriend along. You know what women are like. And that Jordan’s a real looker.’
‘Haven’t got a current girlfriend,’ Gino admitted. ‘I was thinking of going alone.’
‘I see. Well, I wouldn’t count on your getting together again with this Jordan, if I were you,’ Adrian advised drily. ‘I gathered from the Stedley son and heir that an engagement was just around the corner.’
‘An engagement!’ Gino exclaimed, before he could think better of it.
‘Yep. If that thought upsets you, then perhaps you shouldn’t go at all.’
Upset him?
Already a tidal wave of fury was building up on his horizon. If Jordan had lied to him…
A boyfriend was bad enough. But if she’d willingly had sex with him, then gone home to her fiancé, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it.
‘No, no,’ Gino said with pretend nonchalance. ‘No sweat. It’s been years since Jordan and I were an item. But I wouldn’t mind seeing her again, having a chat about old times.’
Plus a chat about very recent times, Gino vowed darkly. Namely last Friday night.
‘In that case be discreet. Chad Stedley came across as the controlling type. He might not like his girl’s ex showing up in her life again.’
‘He sounds delightful.’
‘He’s super-rich.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Women will put up with a lot to marry a super-rich guy.’
‘Is that the voice of experience talking?’
‘Hell, no. I’m rich, but not super-rich. Yet. Still, you must have come across a few gold-digging types. The Bortellis were listed as one the richest one hundred Australian families last year.’
‘Ahh,’