Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
New Year’s Eve three years ago, Barcelona
E LEANOR LOOKED OUT beyond the bustling lights glowing from the Port of Barcelona, even on this night, to the dark blank space of the Balearic Sea, wondering if she could count the ways that her life had changed again.
Santo wouldn’t know it, but what had passed between them last year had altered her fundamentally. In rare moments she thought that he might have said what he did because she’d hurt him. But then she came to her senses, refusing to overestimate her importance to him. Whatever had caused them, his words had been blunt and forceful to the point of bruising, but she had desperately needed to hear them.
And from the moment that she’d returned home she’d known that she needed to make serious changes in both her behaviour and her mindset. Shame and embarrassment at how selfish she had been were only useful if they drove her to do better. So that was what she’d made them do. Drive her forward.
At home, when Freddie was back from boarding school she had spent as much time with him as she could. She had soaked in all that he was, hoping that he would some day realise how much she loved him, and how much she’d tried to protect him from Edward—who was unable to separate them without making an unnecessary scene.
And with her mother, Eleanor had tried her hardest to make peace with what little relationship they had under Edward’s watchful eye. Although it seemed paranoid, she couldn’t help but feel that the staff had been instructed to report back any conversations she shared with her mother, and the newly increased number of them meant that there was very little time for them to be alone.
She’d reached out to her university professor and had arranged to repeat the last year through remote learning. She’d been able to take out a personal loan to cover the tuition fees, whilst also securing a job at Mads Rassmussen’s London office.
Edward hadn’t liked that one little bit, but she’d sold it to him that it would enable her to keep an ear to the ground about the financial goings-on of one of the families. She doubted that Edward believed a word she’d said, but he’d surprisingly let it go.
But between the full-time job, her studies and trying to keep a fragile peace at home, Eleanor was feeling the strain. Strain that she pushed down hard. Other people had been through worse. She’d had twenty years of privileged pampering. She would certainly survive the next few years. All she had to do was wait until Freddie was eighteen, and the three of them could leave. Until then, Eleanor would do everything she could to ensure that they had somewhere to go and some money to take with them. They didn’t even need that much. Just enough. Enough never to be dependent on someone else ever again.
‘Ah, here she is, my latest employee,’ announced Mads with Ekaterina on his arm.
Eleanor smiled warmly at the couple. While she worked hard to keep her guard up around them, about what she said of herself and her family, she liked them. And God knew, she would have been nowhere without Mads taking a risk on a woman with no work history, no experience and no degree to her name.
‘How is it, working for Mads? Is he a mean boss?’ Kat asked, poking her fiancé teasingly.
‘Terrible,’ Eleanor replied with mock horror. ‘He even makes me work on Fridays,’ she replied.
‘You can’t make her do that.’ Kat turned to him, outraged.
‘My love, most people who are employed have to work on Fridays,’ he chided.
A part of Eleanor was amazed at how clueless Ekaterina was, but the other part was sympathetic. Just remembering the sheer basic day-to-day things that she hadn’t known when she’d first started work filled Eleanor with deep embarrassment.
It had been hard to win over her fellow staff members, all of whom—understandably—thought she was only ‘playing’ at having a job. The first few months as a personal assistant had been truly awful for her. But every day she went back, every time she worked a little longer, a little harder, she won another inch of their respect. Eventually she’d picked up the basic skills that she lacked and was able to add that to the foundation from her university degree and she had finally found her feet.
Eleanor gritted her teeth as Dilly passed by, her slow head-to-toe perusal making it clear that her one-time friend had recognised the dress that Eleanor had worn before at a previous event. The mean tittering from Dilly and another girl told her that it wouldn’t be long before whatever rumour the other woman had spun it into would be around the room in no time.
Well, let them. Eleanor no longer had the luxury of wasting money on brand-new gowns. And while the income she had saved that year was almost embarrassingly low, in some ways it was more than she could ever have imagined. It was hers . She’d earnt it. Herself. It hadn’t been given to her and couldn’t be taken away. And that made her feel like it was millions.
‘Well, Thompson has been saying how good you’ve been getting on in the last few months, so keep it up!’ Mads said, with a little fist pump that made her smile.
When she’d first approached him she knew that he had been both suspicious and surprised. She’d told him only as much as she’d dared. He’d taken such a chance on her, and she’d never forget it.
‘Uh-oh,’ Kat said, leaning in to whisper. ‘Grumpy is here. And it seems he’s not alone,’ she added.
Eleanor frowned and turned to see who had just entered the room.
She masked her expression the moment she saw him, not wanting a single reflection of the impact he made on her to show. Not wanting anyone to guess that the moment she’d seen him it had felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. As if time had stopped the beat of her heart.
Standing nearly a foot taller than almost everyone else, he insolently surveyed the room. Thick, dark hair, effortlessly styled; his hands had run through the wet strands, with maybe the slightest slick of gel, she imagined. A rich olive tan graced his skin, presumably from his time outside amongst the olive groves.
Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. In the brief moments she had to herself, away from work or studies, she had pored over any news about him she could find.
From where she stood, his face side on to her, she couldn’t see, but could well remember, the scar he’d confessed was inflicted by his father. And yet she couldn’t help but wonder at the invisible ones he bore, where no one could see them, or reach them to heal.
Santo turned to the doorway and smiled, the expression completely changing his face. The stern lines that defined him eased and he looked a little younger, he looked softer, without undermining the powerful impact he made. He reached out his hand and Eleanor followed the line of his arm to see a young woman emerge from the doorway.
She pressed her lips together to stop the gasp of hurt from escaping. Because the way that Santo looked at the young, dark-haired woman was nothing she’d ever seen from him before.
Just as he returned his gaze to the room, Eleanor shifted so that her back was to them, desperately hoping that Santo hadn’t caught her staring. After what had passed between them last year, she wanted to avoid him at all costs.
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.
She was a thorn in both their sides and he wanted her gone.
But, no matter what he wanted, his body had different ideas. Torturing him with erotic images at night, with memories during the day, with awareness of her right here, right now. Fingers tripped across his skin, beneath his shirt, gripping him in places that made him damn thankful he was sitting down at the table.
‘Do you two want to go and mingle before we eat?’ Aditi asked, her accent inflecting her words in a pleasant way.
Amita shook her head, and Santo nodded that it was fine to stay at the table. Aditi’s smile was enough to tell him how important this was to her. He should tell Karl to get them both away from here and never come back. But Karl had enough of both clout and charm to make himself unthreatening to others, so Santo was sure that they would be fine.
As the waiter passed, he and Karl removed the bottles of wine from the table.
‘You can drink,’ Amita assured him.
‘That’s okay, I’m happy not to,’ he explained, the gratefulness in her answering gaze more than he deserved. He’d already decided that he was done drinking around this lot.
He had warned Eleanor last year about growing up and taking things seriously. It was time that he did the same.
As Karl, Amita and Aditi fell into easy conversation, Santo’s mind was elsewhere. One of the largest neighbouring competitors for olive oil in Puglia had approached him last week, needing to sell the company. The man’s brother-in-law had got into gambling debt with some very dangerous people and he needed capital fast. Others had come sniffing around, but the man wanted to sell to Santo because he respected the land and the local community.
Santo knew that everyone here thought he’d made his millions by being ruthless. Not a single one of them would have considered that one could make money and still keep one’s morals. The work he’d done in the past years to create a community response to the fires that had ravaged Puglia and, in all likelihood would continue to do so in the future, had garnered respect. And that had paid dividends.
His phone rang and, excusing himself from the table, he left to find a quiet place to take the call.
He followed the staircase behind him up to the second-floor balcony, the lighting dim and the noise much quieter up here. It was a quick call, barely a few words, and just like that, Santo had nearly doubled the size of his estate.
Pocketing his phone, he braced his elbows on the railing and surveyed the scene below. People were chatting, dancing, laughing and drinking and all he could think was that a man’s entire career, his life, had just been surrendered.
A movement further along the balcony caught his eye and he’d barely turned when recognition struck him hard. Of course it would be her. Of course they would have somehow found each other amongst the two hundred guests that evening.
Eleanor wanted to hide but she knew he’d seen her. He hadn’t at first, not when he’d been on the phone, but in trying to leave she’d made herself known.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’
She felt the pause between her statement and his response like an eternity.
‘Nothing to interrupt.’ The clipped words dropped to the floor between them like a stone.
She nodded, deeply uncomfortable with the seething twist of self-pity and jealousy coursing through her veins. It shouldn’t matter. She could be happy for him. Because, truly, he deserved to be happy.
‘I...’ She let the sentence trail off as she saw he’d turned away, but the word stopped him.
Eventually he looked back at her. ‘Sì?’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, gesturing for him to leave.
Santo bit out an irritable sigh. ‘What is it, Eleanor?’
She swallowed. ‘I just wanted you to know that I heard what you said last year,’ she explained, staring at the floor, cursing herself for being so weak. He’d told her to be strong. To be stronger. And she wanted to show him that she was . ‘I...have made some changes this year and I...just wanted you to know that,’ she said, raising her eyes to his face before the overwhelming urge to turn back into the shadows and disappear crashed over her.
He stared back at her, the blankness painful, but nothing more than she deserved. She had used him last year. And instinctively she knew that few people did that and survived unscathed.
‘Did you want an award? A round of applause, perhaps?’
‘No, I just wanted you to know,’ she said, holding fast against the disdain she saw in his gaze. But disdain was better than what had been there before, which was nothing less than a brutal indifference. ‘I have a job now. And I’m finishing my degree. I have a plan,’ she said, determined for the first time that evening. To prove herself to him, to herself even.
He frowned for the first time, the tiny movement showing that he wasn’t just a statue.
‘What plan?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘It’s not important,’ she said, suddenly feeling the urge to run. She went to push past him on the shallow balcony, but he caught her upper arm in his hand.
‘What plan, Eleanor?’ he asked again, more forcefully.
‘It’s nothing,’ she dismissed. ‘Certainly nothing to do with you,’ she said, confused by the sudden whiplash of his interest.
‘Carson is not a man to mess with,’ Santo warned.
Eleanor let out a surprised laugh. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘Whatever you’re thinking—’
‘Is none of your business, as I’ve said,’ she stressed, getting annoyed. Yes, he’d helped her see what a mess she’d been making of things, but that didn’t mean he got to treat her like a child.
She pulled her arm back and, as if only because he didn’t want to make a scene, he released her.
‘Don’t do anything stupid, Eleanor,’ he commanded.
She wanted to rail against the accusation, but the problem was, she had earned it. He had seen her passed out drunk. He had experienced her misguided attempts to lose herself in him . He had every right to believe that she would do something stupid.
And, just like that, any anger or indignation at his tone evaporated.
‘I won’t,’ she replied sincerely. If she had learned anything about Edward it was that the man was fiercely intelligent. And she would have to be more so.
‘But I really don’t want any bad blood between us,’ she admitted, seeking for a sense of the control and calm that she had heavily relied on throughout this year. ‘I sincerely apologise for any offence I caused last year. I wasn’t...’ I wasn’t okay , she wanted to confess. The last time she’d seen him, she’d been so very bleak. ‘I wasn’t quite myself,’ was all she could admit to.
She swallowed, looking once again at the floor, unable—no, unwilling —to meet his gaze.
There was a pause.
‘And you are now?’ came the enquiry.
She bit the inside of her cheek. In truth, probably not completely, but he didn’t need to know that. She nodded instead, not wanting to lie to him.
Santo peered at her through the gentle downlighting of the balcony. He wasn’t sure he believed her. In fact, when he’d first taken a look at her—a proper look—he’d been surprised, and not in a good way.
She had lost weight since last year. Quite a bit, and she hadn’t had all that much to lose in the first place. There was a dark smudge beneath each eye that was still visible through her make-up. And he recalled earlier having heard some mean gossip about her wearing a dress she’d been seen in before.
The grey dress served only to make her look even more pale than usual, he thought. He cursed himself for being mean. She was clearly suffering in one way or another.
Some protector he was, he thought, viciously chastising himself.
‘If there’s something I can do,’ he offered lamely, knowing with absolute conviction that she would never turn to him for help. No. Her pride—which he respected—wouldn’t allow that.
She dismissed his offer with a wave of her hand, just as he’d expected, surprised to find that it stung as sharply as a slap.
‘Not at all. Things are actually going really well,’ she said gamely, her eyes bright. Too bright.
Cristo. He had let his ego override the promise he’d made to Pietro, but also what was staring him right in the face. Yes, she might have behaved selfishly, but what should he have expected? She’d grown up pampered, indulged and spoilt. It was a miracle she’d lasted a week at Rassmuss Technologies, let alone eleven months.
He didn’t think for a moment that any of her contemporaries would have had even half the fortitude she must have had to still be standing, once Edward had turned against her. How had he not seen that? How had he not recognised that?
Because you let your attraction towards her mess with your mind , his inner voice said.
‘If you need anything...’ he tried again, but once again she shook him off.
‘I’d rather not, actually,’ she said, her smile a little more brittle this time. ‘I...want to do this on my own.’ She nodded, as if to herself. ‘It feels good,’ she admitted. ‘The things I’ve earned. I’ve enjoyed it.’
Truth rang loudly in her words and he instinctively knew that this time it wasn’t false bravado. She meant what she said.
‘I’m pleased,’ he replied honestly.
‘Actually,’ she said, frowning, half hesitant, ‘there is one thing you could do for me.’ Her hands were twisting in front of her.
Anything , he nearly replied and, not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded for her to continue.
She bit her lip. ‘Could I ask you for a promise?’
The confusion must have shown on his face, because she smiled.
‘Don’t worry, it shouldn’t cost you anything.’
‘Money would probably be easier,’ he replied without thinking and where once she might have laughed, now she only smiled awkwardly.
Oh, yes, it was safe to say that Eleanor Carson had very much learned the value of money in the last year.
‘Could I ask you to promise never to lie to me?’
He blinked, closing his mouth before it dropped open more than the few millimetres it already had in shock.
Money most definitely would have been easier.
How could he make that promise to her? He was already lying to her. Had lied to her every single time they had met. Their entire interactions were coloured by that lie.
But how could he not, when she stared up at him with something in her eyes that he couldn’t shatter? So much had been taken from her, could he really afford to take this from her too?
But agreeing to her request would cross a line that he would be unable to reinstate. And a perverse part of him almost welcomed that knowledge. Welcomed the fact that what she was asking from him guaranteed a future in which he would disappoint her. One way or another, it would be a certainty if he gave her his word.
He took a breath, and ignored the way it shuddered in his lungs as he did so.
‘Yes, I can promise that,’ he said, wondering if by not saying the words it made his crime any less.
The smile that lit her features this time was genuine and warm. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet and he wished it didn’t make him want to smile in response.
‘Thank you. I wanted at least one person here who won’t lie to me,’ she said and, before he could react, she leant forward and reached up to kiss his cheek, his stomach flipping into his throat and his soul going straight to hell.
By the time he had regained control of himself, she had disappeared back down the stairs and off somewhere he couldn’t follow. Slowly, step by step, he returned to his place at the table with Karl, Aditi and Amita.
‘Is everything okay?’ Amita asked.
He forced a smile to his face. ‘Yes, in fact I’ve just acquired a new business.’
‘On New Year’s Eve?’ asked Karl, impressed.
‘Yes. A neighbour. I’ve nearly doubled my land.’
‘Now, that really is a reason to celebrate,’ Aditi exclaimed.
He nodded, and let them raise their glasses, even though there was no alcohol on the table. And no matter how self-righteous he’d been about the need to keep his head that evening, he would have given his neighbour’s business back for a bottle of whisky in that moment.
‘Who was that woman?’ Amita asked quietly, looking back up to the empty balcony.
‘No one important,’ he lied for the second time that night.