Return of the Italian Tycoon

He turned to Kayla, finding her studying him. “Nothing important. So, are you enjoying your trip?”

“Definitely. But...”

“But what?”

“I get the feeling that you aren’t enjoying it. Why is that? Is it because of your sister’s situation?”

He shrugged. “I suppose that has something to do with it.”

“What else is bothering you? I’d think after being gone for so long that you’d be happy to be back in Italy.”

“And you would be wrong. Returning to Monte Calanetti and interacting with my siblings and villagers is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

She arched an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

Why had he opened his mouth? He didn’t want to get into this subject. It would lead to nothing but painful memories. And he couldn’t even fathom what Kayla would think of him after he told her the truth about his past—about how he ended up in New York.

She reached out her hand and gripped his arm. “You know that you can talk to me. Openness and honesty are important to a relationship—even a friendship or whatever this is between us. Besides, I’m a really good listener.”

Even though they were submerged in this mineral mud stuff, her touch s

till sent a jolt up his arm and awakened his whole body. After telling himself repeatedly that she was off-limits, he wanted her more with each passing day. He turned and his gaze met hers.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on and it wasn’t just skin-deep. Her beauty came from the inside out. She was kind, thoughtful and caring. She was everything he would ever want in a woman—if he were interested in getting involved in a serious relationship.

But he wasn’t. He jerked his gaze back to the large window that gave an amazing view of the Mediterranean Sea, but it wasn’t the landscape that filled his mind—it was Kayla. She consumed far too many of his thoughts.

“Angelo, talk to me.” Her voice was soft and encouraging.

For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to open up. And though his instinct was to keep it all bottled up inside, he wondered if that was the right thing to do. Maybe if Kayla, with her near-perfect home life, were to see him clearly she wouldn’t look at him with desire in her eyes.

But could he do it? Could he reveal the most horrific episode in his life? More than that, could he relive the pain and shame?

He gazed into Kayla’s eyes, finding compassion and understanding there. He swallowed hard and realized that perhaps he had more strength than he gave himself credit for. Though taking down his ingrained defenses to expose the most vulnerable part of himself would be extremely hard, he firmly believed it would be for the best. If it would put an end to this thing between him and Kayla, how could he hold back?

He cleared his throat. “Remember when I told you that I left Italy to go to school in the States?”

She nodded. “It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard. I couldn’t have done it—”

“But the thing is... I didn’t do it because I wanted to.”

Her brows drew together. “What are you saying?”

“My father and I didn’t get along and that’s putting it mildly.” Angelo’s body tensed as his mind rolled back in time. “My parents have always had a rocky relationship. On and off. Divorcing and remarrying.” He shook his head, chasing away the unwelcome memories. “It was awful to listen to them.”

He stopped and glanced at Kayla, whose expression was one of compassion. And then she did something he didn’t expect. She reached over, grabbed his arm again and slid her hand down into the mud until she reached his hand. She laced her fingers tightly around his and gave him a big squeeze.

He exhaled a deep breath and continued. “My father is not a small man and he can be quite intimidating. When I’d had enough and my mother needed help with his temper, I...I’d step between them. My father did not like that at all.”

“You don’t have to tell me this.”

“Yes, I do.” He’d started this and he was going to see it through to the end. “It didn’t matter what I did, it was never up to my father’s expectations. I don’t think there was anything I could have done to please him. And by the time I graduated school, I was done trying. And he was done trying.”

“One day he blew up at me for not doing something in the vineyard. His bad mood spilled over to my mother—this was one of their good periods, so she didn’t want to ruin things with him. When I tried to intervene between him and her by trying to soothe him, my father...he...he threw me out.”

Kayla’s fine brows rose. “But surely he calmed down and let you back in.”

Angelo shook his head as he stared blindly out the window. Suddenly he was back there on that sunny day. His father had pressed a meaty hand to Angelo’s chest, sending him stumbling out the front door. His mother’s expression was one of horror, but she didn’t say a word—not one thing—to contradict her husband. Instead, she’d agreed with him. Angelo’s hurt had come out as anger. He’d balled up his hands and lifted them, taunting his father into a fight. But his father had told him that he wasn’t worth the effort. How did a father do that to his son? How did he turn his back on him?