Page 16 of Forbidden Until Midnight

‘For me?’ he asked as if surprised.

She huffed out a gentle laugh. ‘Yes, for you. The Sabatini Group’s turnover was nothing short of miraculous this year. And I heard you managed to rid yourself of one of your investors. That is no mean feat,’ she added conspiratorially.

He frowned at her as if confused by her knowledge of his business. She frowned back exaggeratedly, receiving a begrudging smile in response—just as she’d hoped.

‘Business degree, remember?’ she reminded him.

‘I do,’ he confirmed, and those words meant more to her than he would ever imagine. It was like a present she’d been hoping for all year long.

Eleanor took a deep breath. It continued to be a bone of contention between her and her father. It was as if everything she did to please him took her further and further away from what she had meant to him before. Before she’d broken her engagement, before she’d ever started to attend these things.

Instinctively, she sought out her father in the crowd and noticed that he was looking their way. And suddenly she didn’t want to be caught by her father with Santo, she didn’t want to be out here where people could see them. She noticed more and more people looking their way.

‘What’s wrong?’ Santo asked, feeling the change in her demeanour like a cloud passing over the sun. The smile that pulled up the corners of her lips became tighter.

‘People are staring.’

She was right, of course. For himself, Santo had got quite used to the feeling, but it clearly upset her.

‘Want to see something spectacular?’ Santo whispered in her ear. She looked up at him, the gratitude in her eyes louder than a cry as she nodded, taking what he was offering with both hands.

Santo drew Eleanor away from the crowds and up the staircase at the back of the nave to a second floor. A narrow walkway took them beyond the pews that looked down onto the altar, to behind the focal point of the church.

He was aware of her with every step he took. It was madness to be alone with her, especially as he wrestled with the effect she was having on him, but the unwanted attention she was receiving had taken away that sense of confidence that had lit Eleanor from deep within and that was unacceptable.

He held his hand out to her as he guided her up the last few steps towards his destination. And when she placed her hand in his he tried to ignore the sparks that fizzled and hissed between their touch.

If he’d expected Eleanor to ask where they were going, he’d been mistaken. She appeared utterly at ease with wherever he was taking her. Perhaps she hadn’t learned enough from the past few years then. She should be on her guard. Especially around him.

He headed for the large ornately designed window with slashes of stained glass segmented by thick dark metal bleeding into the night, making it appear almost magical. Next to the series of crossing steps, the entire area reminded him of an Escher painting, making him wonder how different things could have been for him. For her. Forthem.

Just as they reached the window a firework scattering yellow and pink bursts into the night sky exploded and Santo heard a soft gasp of surprise fall from Eleanor’s lips. And with just that Santo battled with a surprisingly fierce wave of arousal that shivered through his body.

He barely dared look at her. Up close, he could see that Eleanor’s dress was made of a thick black velvet, studded with absolutely minuscule studs of gold that made it look as if she shimmered like the night sky on the other side of the window. The paleness of her skin, rather than seeming diminished, glowed within the material. And he was struck that the regality that she wore like a cloak across her shoulders had turned a princess into a queen. Something that made her feel so very far beyond his reach.

Another firework exploded and he watched the flares glitter in her eyes, the slight flush of pleasure on her cheeks, and indignation that he hadn’t put it there himself was enough of a warning for him to step back. Only he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it.

But he really should. He was there to protect her, for Pietro, and that most certainly included protecting her from himself. The things he’d seen, the things he knew...they were too much for an innocent like Eleanor.

She closed her eyes and lost the sparkle of the night, as if somehow intuiting his attempt to withdraw from her.

‘Your mother isn’t here?’ Eleanor observed without looking at him.

He was surprised, the turn in conversation yanking him out of his thoughts, and forced himself to answer the question. He supposed it was understandable, though. For a gathering supposedly of families, his was noticeably absent, even considering Gallo’s death.

‘Irepresent the family,’ he stated grimly, finding it uncomfortable that perhaps he couldn’t read her thoughts as much as he’d believed.

‘Does she not like all this?’

‘No. She never did,’ he said, wishing that they had more than these silly glasses of champagne. He took a mouthful of the bubbly alcohol anyway, the taste of nothing but regret on his tongue. He looked down, knowing that he could change the topic of conversation. Knowing that she would accept it if he did, but for the first time he found himself wanting her to know. About him. About his childhood.

‘She was an only child and her father was old when she was born. He was desperate to marry her off, and my father was desperate enough to take her name.’

Santo thought about how cruelly his mother had been used by the men in her life, how awful it must have been not to have anyone on her side. He wondered if that was why he was drawn to Eleanor, to the similarities between them as much as the differences.

‘I didn’t realise. I thought your connection here was through your father,’ Eleanor said.

‘He was happy to make it seem like that, and after the money he made for many of the families here they were happy to go along with it.’

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