Page 4 of Forbidden Until Midnight

He stared at her blankly, her observation only more evidence against her.

‘It’s my first time here,’ she confided, pressing on despite his clear disinclination to pursue this conversation. He wondered absently what other inane observation she might be capable of, and looked away when she blushed beneath his scrutiny.

‘Would never have known,’ he uttered beneath his breath, snagging a fresh glass of whisky from a passing waiter, more than a little frustrated that he would spend the rest of the night smelling like a distillery.

Before the waiter could disappear, Eleanor beckoned him over and whispered something in the young man’s ear. The eagerness of the boy—probably the same age as her—was almost pitiful. He nodded and rushed off.

She’d probably ordered some frothy cocktail that disguised any offending taste of alcohol.

He opened his mouth to make an excuse to leave, but Eleanor pushed on determinedly.

‘I’ve not been to Munich before. I’m hoping that there will be some time to see it before we leave, the day after tomorrow. Have you? Are there any attractions you could suggest?’

He turned back to face her full on, with a raised eyebrow that wassureto convey his disbelief that she would actually be asking him for tourist spot recommendations.

Once again, he attempted to excuse himself.

‘Because, honestly,’ she pressed on, not giving him the chance, ‘I quite like looking around cities when they’re quiet. It’s as if you get to see something that no one else does. And tomorrow, I’d imagine most people will be still in bed, or nursing a hangover so...’

She trailed off, having seen something while Santo was still trying to make sense of the image he now had of Eleanor wandering along isolated streets just before sunrise.

‘Oh, thank you,’ she said to the waiter, who had returned and passed her a bag before leaving.

Eleanor turned back to Santo. ‘This is for you. It should fit. It obviously won’t be as nice as the one I ruined, but at least it won’t be stained. Or smell,’ she added with a smile that was near delightful. She bobbed her head, wished him a good rest of the evening and disappeared, leaving him holding a bag with a cellophane-wrapped white shirt, quite unsure as to what had just happened.

‘Wait,’ he called before he could stop himself.

She turned back, just a few feet from where he stood, a small smile on her face. It was a Mona Lisa smile—not fake or forced, but as if she knew she’d surprised him. Because he hadn’t thought her capable of the kind of awareness that was required not only to recompense him for the damage to his shirt, but more than that, to do it in such a way that it had been subtle, seamless. Anyone else here would have simply shrugged it off and left him to it.

‘Santo Sabatini,’ he offered.

‘Nice to meet you, Mr Sabatini,’ she said, a broad, almost beautiful, smile stretching across her features, before disappearing into the crowd, leaving a feeling turning in his chest that lasted for much longer than Santo was comfortable with.

As Eleanor made her way back to Dilly and the group she was with, she couldn’t help but feel a fizz of excitement humming through her veins. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to where Santo Sabatini—Italian, most definitely—wasstillstaring after her. Her heart fluttered a little. It had hardly been anything, but something about surprising him had pleased her.

She risked another glance, but this time he was gone, and that pleasure dimmed just a bit. Dilly welcomed her back into the group and pulled her to her side, next to Tony Fairchild. Eleanor smiled shyly at him when he turned to make room for her.

He caught her up on the conversation, an argument about whether one of the boys in the group should invest with another. Eleanor let the conversation flow around them until there was a lull.

‘Dilly, what do you know about Santo Sabatini?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Best to stay away from him. His father died about six years ago and the ugly rumours are that Santo wasthere.’

The way that Dilly said ‘there’ seemed to implyinvolvedrather thanpresent, and Eleanor found herself frowning at the thought. Had she got it so wrong? Was Santo Sabatini actually dangerous? She didn’t think she’d felt that he was.

‘But he inherited the Sabatini Group—the biggest privately held company in Italy—at just eighteen and even though some of the families tried to group together to buy it from him, he refused.’

‘He’s a pompous git,’ Tony added. Eleanor started just a little, not aware he’d been listening to their conversation. But he caught her gaze and rolled his eyes in a joking way, becoming the handsome, charming rake she remembered from school. He closed the distance between them to say, ‘But don’t mind him. He doesn’t usually bother us much.’

Eleanor nodded eagerly as he took her arm and pulled her to his side, and when he smiled at her she felt a little flutter and thought that she was the luckiest girl here.

And by the time the clock struck midnight she’d forgotten all thoughts of the tall, brooding Italian and believed that perhaps, just like the fairy tales she’d loved so much, she had met her very own Prince Charming in Antony Fairchild. And the way that his eyes sparkled at her, she began to hope that it was more than just a fantasy.

CHAPTER TWO

New Year’s Eve eight years ago, Vienna

WHATADIFFERENCEa year made, Eleanor thought as she emerged into the air-controlled environment of the Pichlers’ wine cellars with a diamond ring on her finger and a fiancé on her arm.

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