Page 22 of A Night of Living Dangerously

“You always work, don’t you?” she said softly. “That’s why you’re so successful.” Her gaze grew troubled as she hugged a pillow over her breasts. “Maybe if I were more like you, I wouldn’t be such a screw-up.”

He frowned. “A screw-up?” he demanded. “Who said that?”

Her smile became sad. “No one has to say it. I came to San Francisco to start my jewelry business, then chickened out.” She looked down at the bed. “I’m not brave like you.”

He sat down beside her. “There are all kinds of bravery in the world, cara.” Reaching over, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You have an open heart. You trust people in a way I could not. And your jewelry is unique and beautiful. Like you,” he said huskily. Setting his jaw, he gave her a decisive nod. “You will start your business when the time is right. I know it.”

Her large brown eyes looked up at him with almost painful hope. “You do?”

“Yes.” He dropped his hand. “I failed many times, in many different businesses, before I made my first fortune. Selling children’s plastic bracelets, of all things.”

; She gave an amazed laugh. “You? Selling plastic bracelets? I don’t believe it.”

He gave her a sudden grin. “It’s true. The trend exploded across America and I made my first million. I was determined to succeed. No matter how many times I failed, I wouldn’t give up.” He stroked her hair. “You are the same. You just don’t know it yet.”

“You think so?” she breathed, her eyes huge.

He nodded. “If it’s important to you, you’ll make it happen. Whatever it costs.”

“What made you so driven to succeed?”

His lips flattened. “When my father died, he left debts I had to repay. I dropped out of college and worked twenty hours a day.” He looked away. “I will never feel powerless again.”

“Powerless? But you’re a prince!”

“Prince of nothing,” he said harshly. “An empty title I inherited from a fifteenth-century warlord. The men of my family have always been corrupt and weak.”

“But not you.” Her clear eyes met his. “You are the leader of Caetani Worldwide. You built a billion-dollar company from nothing. Everyone loves you,” she whispered.

He felt uncomfortable with the adoration he saw in her eyes. “I’m nothing special,” he said gruffly. “If I can start a business, so can you. Start a business plan, work through the numbers.”

“That might be hard, since I read letters and numbers in the wrong order.”

“Dyslexia?”

She nodded.

“What is it like?”

“It’s different for different people. In my case the letters and numbers won’t stay put.”

He barked a laugh. “And you’re working in my file room?”

She gave him a sudden cheeky grin. “Now you understand why I was working late.” Her voice became wistful. “I’ve never been really successful at anything except making jewelry. Maybe that’s why my father thinks I’m hopeless at taking care of myself. He threatened to disinherit me if I don’t come back to Minnesota and marry one of his managers.”

“Disinherit you!” Alessandro pictured a hard-working farmer with a small plot of land in the bleak northern plains. “He wanted you to marry a manager on his farm?”

Lilley blinked, frowning at him. “My father’s not a farmer. He’s a businessman.”

“Ah,” Alessandro said. “He owns a restaurant? Perhaps a laundromat?”

Her eyes slid away evasively. “Um. Something like that. My parents got divorced a few years ago, when my mother was sick. The day she died was the worst day of my life. I had to get away, so I found … a job … with a distant relative. My cousin.”

She stumbled strangely over the words, looking at him with an anxiety he couldn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” Alessandro said in a low voice. “My mother died a few years ago, and my own relationship with my father was always complicated.” Complicated was an understatement. His father, Prince Luca Caetani, had married Alessandro’s mother for her money, then spent it on his mistresses. He’d died when Alessandro was nineteen, leaving debts and an unknown number of bastards around the world. Alessandro was his father’s only legitimate child, the heir to the Caetani title and name, but every year some stranger came out of the woodwork, claiming blood ties and asking for a handout from the company Alessandro had built with his own two hands.