Return of the Italian Tycoon

She shook her head. How could she be honest with him about what had her distracted when she knew that it would put her job in jeopardy? Maybe if she understood his reasons, it would bridge the divide. “Explain it to me.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and pulled out a chair next to her. “When I came to the States, I was alone. I didn’t know anyone. And I’ll admit that it wasn’t easy and there were a few scary moments.”

This certainly wasn’t the explanation that she was expecting, but she liked that he was opening up to her, little by little. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you. I mean, I moved to New York City and I didn’t know a soul here, but I was only a car ride away from my family. You practically moved halfway around the world.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” His lips pressed together into a firm line as though stopping what was about to come out of his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just that when I was in school, I got caught up in the football team and my dream of graduating college started to fade into the rearview mirror. Now granted, that isn’t the same as working for a charitable organization, but I learned a valuable lesson—if I wanted to be the best at whatever I decided to do, I had to commit myself 100 percent. I couldn’t let myself get distracted.”

Was that happening to her with the fund-raiser? Was she spreading herself too thin? Was she trying to cover too many bases?

She didn’t want to accept that she was setting herself up to fail. He had to be wrong. “Couldn’t you have done both in moderation?”

“You’re not understanding me—I had to succeed—I had to be the best to get anywhere in New York City. Competition is fierce and if I failed, I couldn’t go home.”

“Sure you could have—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His intense stare met hers, warning her not to delve further into that subject. “The point is that I know what happens when people become distracted for any reason—no matter how good the cause. They lose their focus. Their ambition dwindles. And that can’t happen to Amatucci & Associates. I hate to say it, but it’s a cutthroat business. If we lose our edge, the competitors will swoop in and steal away our clients.”

Between the lines she read, if she lost her edge—if she didn’t give 100 percent—she’d lose her dream. She’d fail and return to Paradise with her tail between her legs. Her stomach twisted into a queasy knot.

She clasped her hands together. Knowing all of this, there was no way she was about to confess to Angelo that she was spending every free moment handling a fund-raiser that seemed to hit one snag after the next. He’d think she wasn’t dedicated to her career—that couldn’t be further from the truth.

She cleared the lump from the back of her throat. “And that’s why you compromise and write generous checks each year to the various organizations?”

He nodded. “I didn’t say I wasn’t sympathetic. But the office policy stands. End of discussion.”

She was more than happy to change subjects, and he’d touched upon one that she was most curious about. “And your parents—”

“Are not part of this discussion.”

They might not be, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t understand a whole lot more about them now. At last, the pieces of his family life started to fall into place. She had wondered why they weren’t at the villa to greet Angelo. Nor were they around to help their daughter cope with her unplanned pregnancy. There was definitely discord, and it must run quite deep if Angelo still wasn’t ready to broach the subject.

Something told her that he’d closed himself off from that part of his life and focused on his business not so much because he was worried about losing focus, but rather because he found his business safe. It lacked the ability to wound him the way family could do with just a word or a look. That was why he was so cold and professional most of the time. It was his shield.

That was no way to live. There was so much more in life to experience. And she desperately wanted to show him that...and so much more.

But how was she to help him if he wasn’t willing to open up?

* * *

“Help! I don’t know what to do. Everything is ruined.”

Kayla’s heart lurched at the sound of Pam’s panicked voice. She gripped the phone tightly and reminded herself that Pam tended to overreact. Things

with the ICL fund-raiser had been going pretty well. Ticket sales were still lagging but the radio spots were helping. What could be wrong now?

“Pam, slow down.”

“But we don’t have time.”

“Take a deep breath. It can’t be as bad as you’re thinking.”

“No, it could be worse.” Pam sniffled.

Okay. What had happened this time? Did Pam lose another file on her computer? Or misplace the phone number for the manager of the headline band? Pam did blow things out of proportion.