Forbidden Until Midnight by Pippa Roscoe

Author:Pippa Roscoe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2024-07-24T15:30:37+00:00

* * *

Santo held his arm out to Amita. The new stepdaughter of one of the few men here he could almost bring himself to respect, Santo had promised to accompany her to her first New Year’s Eve party. Karl Ivanov’s investments in the Sabatini Group were largely silent, making him one of the easier investors to deal with. But also Santo appreciated that the man didn’t get into any of the backbiting and backstabbing that most of the others seemed to delight in.

Amita was a nice girl, but timid. Her stepfather was right to be worried. Originally from Jaipur, her whole sheltered world had been uprooted dramatically and Karl was incredibly concerned about her.

Despite the clear and very platonic understanding between him and Amita, she’d clung to him like a limpet from the moment they’d entered the room. He could feel the curious gazes they’d attracted and when Karl and Amita’s mother, Aditi, joined them the whispers grew to an almost audible level.

‘They’re going to think we’re together,’ whispered Amita for his ears only.

‘Let them. It doesn’t matter,’ he replied sincerely.

In fact, after the last few years, it was probably a good thing that people here thought that he was ‘off the market’. Carson’s blows had lessened, having presumably found bigger fish to fry, and Marie-Laure had found herself a new plaything. He was hardly surprised that the rumour mill had named Antony Fairchild as her new lover.

Poor bastard didn’t know what he was in for.

As Santo led her towards their table in the Casa Llotja de Mar, he was impressed by the space. White and black squares covered the floor like a chequerboard, but it was the huge stone arches that drew the gaze to the dizzying height of the ceiling. A first-floor balcony wrapped around the magnificent room, and a smile caught his lips when he heard Amita gasp.

‘It’s so beautiful.’

‘Mmm,’ he replied noncommittally.

The white-clothed, perfectly dressed tables waiting for the promised eight-course meal that evening hugged the edges of the space, leaving the centre of the room free for those standing and chatting or even dancing a little.

As he took his seat, he kept his gaze firmly on his companions and away from where he knew Eleanor Carson would be found. He had absolutely no intention of running into her tonight.

He was here, keeping his promise, he just didn’t have to interact with her personally.

Which was precisely why he’d asked Mads Rassmussen to dangle himself enticingly as a prospective boss for her. Santo had killed two birds with the same stone—created a way to keep an eye on Eleanor without getting directly involved, in exchange for working with Rassmussen on the side project he’d resumed after rectifying the damage done the year before.

Pietro hadn’t been overjoyed by the news of what she was doing, but his hands were still firmly tied. Watching the old man’s helplessness had been...difficult for Santo. He’d been a mentor, a father figure, representing authority and security. But Eleanor was making the man weak, making him vulnerable, and Santo didn’t like that one bit.

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