Page 24 of Forbidden Until Midnight

As they came out into the slap of cold night air, Eleanor stirred in his arms. He followed Analise Carson to where a black limousine waited, with Edward Carson glaring angrily at him and his wife, yet not even bothering to spare his daughter a glance.

‘If you’ve touched her, I don’t want her,’ Carson stated.

The accusation hit Santo low and hard, everything primal in him rising against delivering Eleanor back into the man’s care.

‘If I’d touched her she wouldn’t be coming back to you,’ Santo growled and he knew in that moment it was the truth. If Eleanor ever came to him she would never need anything from Edward Carson again. He would give her whatever she needed for however long she needed it.

‘Put her in the car,’ Carson ordered and he looked to Eleanor’s mother for permission. All she had to do was say no and he would take her away.

He could see the warring in her gaze and he knew what was holding both women back. Frederick. Eleanor’s brother.

Fighting every instinct he had, Santo put Eleanor gently into the car and watched as Carson slammed the door and went round to the other side of the limousine, not taking his eyes off Santo until the last second.

As Santo watched the car disappear into the night he retrieved his phone and found Pietro’s name.

‘Carson knows,’ Santo said the moment the call clicked through. ‘As does Eleanor.’

The silence on the end of the phone was deafening.

The rules of the game had now changed.

CHAPTER SIX

New Year’s Eve four years ago, Prague

FIREWORKSEXPLODEDACROSSPrague’s Old Town Square. In the distance, the fourteenth century church stared down at the hundreds of thousands of people cramming themselves onto its streets, each as eager as the next to count down the New Year by one of the oldest medieval astronomical clocks in the world.

The mishmash of old architectural styles, statues and memorials stood firm against wave after wave of tourists and locals alike, each entertained by the ferocious fireworks that exploded nearly at eye level, causing fear and delight in worryingly equal measure. Santo looked out upon them all, separated by a pane of thick glass, wondering what he would do with this one night a year if he had the freedom to choose for himself.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come this year,’ said Mads Rassmussen.

Santo gave him a death stare.For nearly twelve months, rather than the literal fires he had fought in previous years across his olive groves in Puglia, he had been defending himself against financial attack from not just one but two different sides, Edward Carson on one and Marie-Laure on the other.

Mads laughed. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, Sabatini. And besides, I’ve enough on my hands with Rassmuss Technologies to worry about olive groves. But I did hear a rumour that you might be interested in renewable—’

‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ Santo replied, cutting off the young Scandinavian before he could finish his sentence. A flash of concern rushed painfully through his body. The number of people who knew about his business interest in renewable energies could be counted on less than one hand. It was certainly something he didn’t want anyone here to know about.

‘Relax. When you’re ready, let me know and I promise it will go no further,’ Mads said, a business card palmed into Santo’s hand with a shake.

Santo waited until the other man had joined his father and some others before looking at the handwritten mobile number on the blank card with the initials MR embossed in the corner. He barely restrained himself from laughing at this silly game of cloak and dagger but, after the year he’d had, he understood the need for it—and appreciated Rassmussen’s understanding of that more than he’d care to admit.

Santo had expected Carson’s underhand tactics, Pietro and he had all but prepared for it, but when Marie-Laure had decided to use her investments to take out her frustration and resentment at his abandonment of her last year, it had forced him to split his focus and his business had suffered.

It had suffered because of Eleanor.

But that wasn’t why he was ignoring her increasingly desperate attempts to snare his attention from across the room. Steeling himself, he turned in the opposite direction, making his way to the bar of the old banquet hall acquired by the Svobodas for the evening. They must have booked it several years in advance; every window along the entire length of the hall had a view of the clock tower. But, no matter how much he tried to shake her off, she consumed his thoughts entirely.

Resentment and frustration reinforced his determination to keep her at arm’s length. He had never argued with Pietro before this year. Not once had they exchanged anything more than support and encouragement. But Santo’s feelings for Eleanor had become much more complex than simple attraction, and he’d struggled with Pietro’s decision to maintain the fragile status quo. Their heated exchange had made Santo feel as if he were both disappointing Pietro and himself at the same time. As if neither could win because neither was wrong. But with the disconcerting feeling that neither was right either.

Santo might have disagreed with Pietro’s decision, but he respected the man completely. And what was the alternative? Eleanor would hardly come to him, leaving her brother and her mother behind under Edward’s control. The helplessness of the situation ate at him and his sense of control in a way he disliked intensely.

And the difficulty he had in leashing his wants beneath the yoke of his word was enough to warn him of just how dangerous she had become to him. Almost as dangerous as he was to her. But his decision to keep distance between them seemed to make her only more desperate to seek him out.

Santo was no stranger to the feeling that eyes were on him. Edward had thrown a few daggers his way upon entry, which was only to be expected. That Santo had managed to slip out from the financial chokehold Edward had tried to get him in was a source of great amusement to some, and consternation to Carson and his supporters. Edward had moved too fast and too hard and had lost himself, and them, a significant chunk of money. But it had cost Santo personally. He’d had to pull his funding from the project he’d been working on in secret to do so and set himself back maybe three or so years. And that hurt.

As Santo moved through the various groups discussing their business interests, he kept his gaze purposely away from the Carsons. The less they interacted, the better for everyone concerned. But he could almost feel Edward’s attention being turned to him by his daughter’s behaviour.

Cristo.Hadn’t she learned anything from last year? he thought angrily, reluctantly realising that there was only one way that this would end, as he turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

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