Page 33 of Forbidden Until Midnight

‘We just have to keep playing the long game, Santo.’

The past and the present swam in his mind like flotsam, catching and snaring on thoughts and holding for a moment before slipping out of reach. Like mother, like daughter, Santo thought as he saw Eleanor talking to Kat and another member of the group that failed to draw any of his attention. He saw a glint and wondered whether it was fancy, or whether he’d seen the glitter of Eleanor’s new engagement ring.

Someone passing gave him a strange look and he wondered whether the growl that had sat at the back of his throat had somehow drawn their gaze. It was possible. The control he usually had on his emotions was pushed to the limit this evening.

And he blamed it on her. Her and her absolute unwillingness to learn from her mistakes.

The announcement had been fairly quiet this time. Whether that was because of Edward’s reluctance to acknowledge Eleanor any more or because of the insignificance of the man she had apparentlyfallen in lovewith, who could say.

Love.

Even the thought of the word turned his stomach and brought a sneer to his lips. He swallowed another mouthful of whisky and turned his back on her, telling himself that he didn’t care what she did, as long as it kept her out of Edward’s reach.

He spent some time catching up with Karl and Aditi, pleased to hear that Amita was getting on so well back in Jaipur at university. He could tell that Aditi missed her daughter, but they all agreed that she was better where she was. She’d found the gathering too intimidating last year, but her mother said she sent Santo her regards.

A little later he was cornered by Ivanov, who wanted to know when they could expect to see returns on the new expansion of the land in Puglia after the sale had gone through with Santo’s neighbour. After that, Müller tried to get him to invest in his latest venture, and failed miserably.

All the while he sensed Eleanor on the outskirts of the crowd, being pushed closer and closer to where he stood, each footstep ratcheting up his pulse, pushing a little harder at the blood pounding through his veins. His irritation inching higher.

Unaccountably, he was absolutely convinced that she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. And that, perversely, only pissed him off more. After their encounter last year, he’d thought,hoped, even, that she might have actually learned something. Might have grown up a little.

Her laugh, getting closer and closer, grated on already stretched nerves.

‘How did he manage with Analise and Edward?’ he heard someone ask.

‘He...did well,’ Eleanor replied, and Santo barely concealed his cough of disbelief. There wasn’t even a chance that the hedge fund manager to whom she was presently engaged had even met Edward Carson. Not a single chance.

He could practicallyfeelEleanor bristling behind him.

‘And how long until the wedding? Are you looking for a long engagement?’

‘No, actually, we’re hoping to marry in April.’

‘So soon?’

‘We’re just so excited,’ came the patently false reply from lips the flavour of which he could still taste on his tongue.

It was obscene. Her desperate plea for truth from him, and thenthis.

‘Well, you and James have my congratulations,’ insisted whoever it was Eleanor was speaking to.

Santo all but sneered, watching Eleanor smile and accept them graciously in the reflection of the large mirror on the opposite side of the wall.

Whoever it was made their excuses to leave, and he didn’t have to turn around to hear the angrily delivered whisper from over his shoulder, aimed for his ears alone.

‘Just stop it,’ Eleanor bit out, glaring daggers at him in the mirror’s image.

He clenched his jaw, intensely disliking that she thought she could have any say over his actions whatsoever. He glared back until she averted her gaze, smiling and waving at another guest.

Eleanor felt his gaze like a hand clasped loosely around her throat, a little like a leash with enough rope to run, but not get far. And that was the problem. It always had been. Her thoughts, her mind, her body’s wants, always came back to him. Inescapably and inexorably. And she had realised this last year that if she had any hope of escaping this life, this world, she’d have to escape him too, wouldn’t she?

He was just as much a part of this entire machinery as Edward Carson was. Even if hedidwant her in the same way that she wanted him—which she honestly didn’t believe any more—there would always bethis. There would always be one night a year spent amongst these people, the majority of whom made her skin crawl.

And even if there were times when she’d thought differently of him, when she’d thought she’d seen something else beneath the surface, she had been wrong, clearly. Because she’d seen the financials, read the reports in the newspapers, lauding the joint venture between the Sabatini Group and Ivanov Industries. Not to mention the supposedly secret project between Mads and Santo. No, the Italian was as deeply intertwined with this group of people as the rest of them. He might despise them as much as she did, but that wasn’t stopping him from being here, year after year. And that was why she’d agreed when James had invited her for dinner early last year, believing that the only way to get over Santo was to meet someone else.

No, James didn’t have the same dramatic impact that Santo had on her. Eleanor wasn’t naïve, she knew it was highly unlikely that anyone would. She was bound to Santo by a connection forged at a moment in her life when she’d been so utterly impressionable. When he’d protected her, even as he’d teased her and taunted her. He’d changed her and she would be thankful for the rest of her life. But a part of her felt as if she was always missing the one piece of information that would make sense of their interactions, and a small part of her wondered whetherthatwas the reason for her infatuation with Santo.

But it had been so different with James. He’d been...calm. Considered. Attentive. Kind. He wasn’t trying to score points in some powerplay. And he had absolutely no interest in her family name or investments. He was handsome and nice and hadn’t baulked when she’d intimated as much as she could about her family. She’d forced herself to tell him the truth—that theirs wasn’t, and quite possibly never would be, a love match—and James had understood. What she wanted from their marriage was safety and security for her mother and brother, and freedom for herself. And, in exchange, what he wanted seemed almost easy to give: companionship.

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