“Correct. I did not stand in the way of his adoption. How could I? I’ve never said this to another person, but I was ready to give up the priesthood to take care of him. It was difficult for me to step back, to let someone else take charge of his life once again. But Juliette, she is a wonderful woman with a kind and compassionate heart. It was the right thing to do. Nicolo needed a mother, and now he had a brother, too. My decision was validated when, a year later, he started talking again and making great strides. Juliette, bless her, let me keep in touch with him after I told her my story of how he’d once been mine. When Nicolo was sixteen years old, she permitted me to tell him of our connection at birth. That’s how he came into my life. We have always been connected at the heart, Nicolo and I. He’s truly been my greatest gift from God.”
I lifted my ponytail from my neck, wishing I could dump a bottle of cold water on my head. “Is that why you groomed him for the church?”
The question appeared to catch the father by surprise. “Groom him? I never considered that for him. I didn’t even talk to him about the priesthood. He came to me when he was eighteen and said he’d seen a vision. He wanted to ask me about the church, God and how he could serve.” The father slipped his fingers behind a white blossom and inhaled the fragrance. “I was hesitant at first, but he’d had a calling, and he was persistent. That’s Nicolo for you. When he wants something, he can be singularly persuasive. I could not refuse him anything.”
No one could, it seemed. Not even me. “His mother, Juliette, she didn’t mind that he was interested in the priesthood?”
“She did not. She, like me, let him follow his heart.”
Juliette lived in London now, and I hadn’t met her yet. I already liked her anyway. A lot. “What happened next?”
“He began training for the priesthood. Not under my tutelage, but I kept a careful watch on him. It quickly became apparent that Nicolo had important talents.”
“Computer skills.”
“Not only. Analytical, mathematical, logic and visual-spatial skills that were off the charts. He also had an extraordinary ability to code. All those who witnessed his skill agreed he was astonishingly gifted. He quickly outstripped everything his teachers could offer him. We had to bring in special tutors and, even then, it wasn’t enough. He soon became the teacher. Not surprisingly, word got back to the Vatican.”
“They had other uses for him,” I said, stating the obvious. Of course, they did. Slash was so talented, he would have excelled at nearly any challenge they could have given him. But in the end, they had used him for darker, more nefarious, purposes, and he had apparently surpassed expectations with those, too. How much of his life had ever gone the way he wanted?
Perhaps Father Armando was thinking along the same lines, because sadness settled into his face and mouth. I steered the topic to safer ground.
“Slash studied while he worked at the Vatican, right?”
“He did. He obtained several degrees, no surprise for a very talented young man.”
Nope, no surprise at all. “Father, do you happen to know what year Slash went to the United States?”
Father Armando considered. “Seven or eight years ago, I think. I’m sorry. I’m not sure exactly when.”
I watched him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. “To your knowledge, had he ever been to the US before that?”
“Not before he began his training at the Vatican. After that, I don’t know. At a certain point, I was no longer apprised of his activities. I suppose it’s possible, given his line of work, but I cannot confirm that.”
I was satisfied he was telling the truth. “Have you ever seen a birth certificate for him?”
“I have. One issued by child services shortly after he was taken from me and fostered.”
“What exactly was his name on the birth certificate, if I may ask?”
“Nicolo Cilento. Cilento after the hamlet where the church I was working at was located. However, when he was adopted by Juliette, she changed his name to Romeo—a poetic gesture, perhaps—his Romeo to her Juliette. Nicolo took her last name, too, which, at the time, was Fortunato. She eventually remarried and took her new husband’s name, but as far as I know, Nicolo did not. So growing up, he was Romeo Fortunato. As I already mentioned, he chose to be known as Nicolo Cilento at the Vatican, but at some point, he asked to be called Slash. I admit it was quite bewildering to me at first, but he assured me it was a nickname of his own choosing. He said it was a computer term, shortened for the backslash on the keyboard. At the time, I didn’t understand the significance of it, but later it occurred to me that for him, the backslash was incredibly symbolic. It was as if he were putting a hard stop, or a backslash, to his old life. From that moment on, he was his own man. For the first time in his life, he’d given himself a name and identity of his own choosing.”
A lump settled in my throat. I had no idea there was so much history behind his nickname. So much I didn’t know about him.
“But old habits die hard, and he permitted me to continue to call him Nicolo,” Father Armando continued, the memory chasing away the sadness on his face. “I guess it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks, as you Americans are fond of saying.”
“Did he ever ask you about how he was found at the church?”
“Yes.” Pain crossed the father’s face. “We discussed it, but that’s not my story to tell.”
This totally sucked. I hated that I was dredging up a painful past, hurting him by making him remember and relive it, but I needed to know as much as I could in order to help Slash.
He was my first priority.
We resumed walking again. Father Armando strolled with his hands behind his back, deep in thought. I was sorting through all the information I’d learned, trying to fill in the blanks.
“When was the last time you saw Slash in person?” I finally asked.
“Yesterday.”
I tripped over my feet, almost face-planting into the hydrangeas. I would have, except for the steadying hand on my elbow Father Armando offered. “What? Slash was here in Genoa? Yesterday?”
“Si—at my home. We had a conversation. It did not go well. He’s conflicted and hurt. I am complicit in that.”
“What happened?” Alarm coursed through me.
It was if the priest had to force the words from his mouth. “It is not for me to say. You must ask him yourself.”
I’d no idea what had happened between them, but Father Armando looked so miserable, I had to assume it was something awful. I glanced away, staring instead at the imposing stone wall of the church that formed a protective barrier on one side of the garden. “Do you know how I can find him?”
“Doesn’t he know you’re here?”
Well, I’d successfully brought us to a supremely awkward moment. Until now, I’d managed to avoid telling him that Slash and I were having issues and barely talking to each other. Now I’d have to confess.
I looked down at my hands and realized I’d been anxiously twisting my T-shirt. “No, he doesn’t know I’m here. He’s trying to keep me out of this, whatever this is, but I’m not going to let him do that. He shouldn’t have to face this alone.”
He let out a huge sigh of relief. “Bless you, child. Thank God he’s chosen a strong individual to share his life. You will need every bit of that strength. The truth is, I don’t know if Nicolo wants to be found, even by you. As you are discovering, Nicolo is not an easy man to know. Trusting does not come easy to him. Perhaps now you’ll understand that a little better.”
I did, but I wasn’t sure what good it would do us if I couldn’t find him.
“If you do find him, please be careful in what you say, Miss Carmichael. There are important reasons Nicolo is keeping you out of this. He loves you desperately and fears what you will think of him if certain things come out.”
“I’m not here to j
udge him. I’m here to help him, if he’ll let me.” I meant it, and by the look on Father Armando’s face, he believed me.
“I don’t know if he’ll permit you to help.” He hesitated, choosing his words. “He prefers to handle things alone, and it’s no surprise. He’s been traumatized and used by others, and as a result, he doesn’t have a high opinion of most people. Those he does trust, myself included, have hurt him in one way or the other, even if it was unintentional. He needs someone who can see through that and love him for the man he is.”
“I already love that man,” I said. “Father Armando, please, if you can tell me where I can find him, I will do everything in my power to help him.”
“I know you will. But the truth is, I don’t know where he’s at right now. If he’s still here in Genoa, he often stays at the Hotel Meliá. He would want to be alone, so if he’s there, he’s likely under an assumed name. On the other hand, he may have already gone back to Rome or somewhere else. Nicolo is not a man of idleness. When he wants something, he will be single-minded about it.”
I knew firsthand that was true. “What’s he single-minded about right now, Father Armando?”
The priest paused and then decided to answer me. “Bringing down Cardinal Jacopo Lazo. Do you know who he is?”
Did I know who he was? I’d pointed Slash in that direction, so if anything happened on that front, it was on me. “Um, yes, I know who he is. President of the Vatican, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, I guess I can start my search for Slash at the Hotel Meliá. Thank you, Father, for agreeing to speak to me and for being so candid.” At this point, my brain was nearing the shutdown point. I needed a shower, a nap and a decent meal. If Slash was not at the hotel, at the very least I hoped to get a room, some sleep and try to plot my next move.
“It was my pleasure,” he answered. “Remember, Nicolo does not feel worthy of you. As a result of his abandonment and pain, he’s spent his entire life trying to prove his worth to others. That’s why he is so incredibly driven and successful. But it comes at a price. He desperately needs peace—something he told me he finds with you.”
“I know,” I answered. “The ironic thing is, he doesn’t have to prove his worth to me. I already know it, and love him for it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Slash
Slash loved a good challenge, but hacking into the personal finances of Cardinal Lazo, stored on the cardinal’s home computer, was so laughably easy a teenager could have done it. Lazo’s arrogance and sense that he was untouchable made him careless and stupid.
He intended to take full advantage of that.
He sat in his hotel suite, working on his laptop, sitting by an open window, the desk angled so he had a nice view of the city. The sounds from below, cars honking, people talking and the smells from the nearby bakery, all soothed him. He was neck-deep in a review of Lazo’s bank account when his phone vibrated.
* * *
I’m currently standing in the lobby of the Hotel Meliá in Genoa. Father Armando says you sometimes stay here. I just met with him, asking him if he knew where you were. He didn’t know, but suggested I start here. I know you didn’t want me in Italy, but I came anyway. Whatever demons you are facing, you don’t have to face them alone. Not anymore. I won’t give up until I find you, even if I have to petition the pope himself, so please, don’t put me through that awkwardness. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.
* * *
For a moment, he stared in astonishment before he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the phone. She’d come after him. He blocked her, shut her out, hurt her, and yet she’d flown all the way across the ocean to find him anyway, not knowing where he was.
My girl.
My incredible, extraordinary woman.
He couldn’t have stayed away from her even if he’d wanted to. His feet were already carrying him to the door and down the hallway. Skipping the elevator, he took the stairs, his stride quickening as he approached the lobby.
He opened the stairwell door and saw her, his heart slamming against his chest. Standing there, he took a moment to drink in the sight of her—the long brown hair pulled back into the ponytail she was so fond of, and a small furrow between her brow. She sat on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs, staring at her phone and waiting for him to return her text. In a simple white T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His gaze fell on her hand and relief swept through him when he saw she still wore the engagement ring he’d given her—thank God.
“Cara,” he choked out, striding across the lobby in a few steps.
She rose at the sight of him, her mouth forming a small O of surprise. He pulled her into his arms with a hard yank, savoring the warmth of her, the solidness. The one thing that could steady him. Her arms wrapped around his waist as he closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, not fully understanding how badly he’d missed her until this moment.
For a minute, they didn’t speak. He didn’t bother to ask what she was doing here. He already knew. She’d come for him because, despite his efforts to push her away, to protect her from his ugly past, she loved him. Still loved him. God only knew how or why, but he never ever wanted to question the miracle of it.
He finally drew back, cupping her cheeks with his hands, his eyes searching hers. “You came.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
“Yes.” She hesitated, seemingly uncertain how he’d feel about her presence. “I didn’t want to be intrusive, but I thought you might need some help.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You came all this way...to help me?”
“You’ve flown across oceans to help me. It seemed only fair I return the favor.”
He kissed her long and hard, not giving a damn who was watching them. When he lifted his mouth, she looked a little dazed.
“Um, I guess that means it’s okay I came,” she finally said, sounding a bit breathless.
He smiled, winding a strand of her hair around his finger. He couldn’t explain how much it meant that she’d come and still loved him—he hoped—but his brain was raising an alarm that she was too close now. The fact that he loved her didn’t mean he was suddenly okay with her finding out his secrets, which was why he’d come alone in the first place. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it at this point. The fact that she was physically here, in his arms, made his world right. The rest he would deal with later.
“It’s better than okay. Thank you for coming.” He stared at her for a moment longer and then smiled. “Come on. You look like you could use a nap.”
“I’m a little jet-lagged,” she admitted. “And hot. I think the humidity is one hundred and ten percent. A shower and some food might be good, too. I can’t decide what I need most at this point.”
He grabbed her backpack and holding her hand, they headed to the elevator. “What about work?” he asked her. “Finn let you come?”
“I’m taking unpaid leave right now. I’d just wrapped things up with a client and I’m not working on anything I couldn’t hand off. I’m lucky he puts up with me.”
Slash squeezed her hand. “Trust me on this, cara. He’s got a good deal with you and he knows it.”
When they got to his suite, Lexi dropped her laptop bag by the door and went directly to the window. She stared out at the bustling city below. “Wow. You’ve got a great view of the city.”
He came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Notice the view first. Not the suite nor the amenities. You walk into a room and your mind goes beyond that. It focuses on a vantage point, a window to the world. I love that about you.”
She said nothing, but he felt her relax against him.
“The suite has another surprise, but I’
ll show you that later,” Slash said. “What do you want first? Nap, food or shower?”
She turned in his arms. “I want you, Slash. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
He leaned over and trailed kisses along her cheek until his mouth grazed the curve of her jaw and rested there. She leaned into him, a perfect fit of mind and body. Her fingers lightly touched the stubble on his cheeks.
When had he shaved last?
“Tu me manques,” he murmured, slipping his hands under her T-shirt and flattening his palms against her back. Her skin was warm and soft.
“That didn’t sound like Italian,” she said, pressing tighter against him.
“It’s French. The French don’t say ‘I miss you.’ They say ‘tu me manques,’ which means ‘you are missing from me.’ That’s what it feels like when you’re not with me. A part of me is missing. The best part of me. The last time we were in Italy together, we weren’t dating yet, although I was already in love with you.”
She lifted her head, smiling tiredly. “Well, we’re together and in love now. And, you know the saying, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do...’”
He pressed his lips against her temple and left them there, smiling against her skin. “Ah, but unfortunately, we’re in Genoa not Rome.”
“No worries. I’ll make a geographic exception for you.”
He laughed, the tightly coiled tension of so many days releasing. “Oh, cara, how I adore you.”
“Ti amo, Slash,” she murmured.
“Sei la mia vita,” he whispered against her cheek before he reached around her and pulled the curtain closed. “Come to bed, my love. We’ll sort everything out after a nap.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cardinal Jacopo Lazo
“We’ve got a new development.” Father Koenhein stood by the door. “His fiancée has arrived in Italy. She was spotted in Genoa, talking to Father Armando.”
Jacopo looked up from the document he was reviewing on his computer screen. “Well, isn’t that interesting? We’ll have to see how he plays that. Do we have a transcript of their conversation?”
No Stone Unturned: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eleven Page 15