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Any other time, he might have been amused, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be dragged back into a life he thought he’d left long ago. A quick glance at his reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls showed an unshaven jaw and dark circles under his eyes. They passed through one more checkpoint before Father Koenhein led him into the president’s office. Slash was instructed to wait in a chair while the father went through one more door, closing it behind him.

Minutes later, he exited, sweeping his hand toward the room. “His Eminence will see you now.”

Slash entered the room, met by Cardinal Lazo, dressed in an ordinary black cassock with a heavy silver cross around his neck. Lazo was a tall man—possibly an inch and a half taller than Slash—and had thick black hair peppered with gray. He stood rigidly with the confidence, or perhaps arrogance, of his station. His pretend intellectualism and an ill-hidden disdain for those he considered beneath him were just a couple of the reasons Slash, and many members of thesodalitium pianum, had always disliked him. Lazo used his position as a cardinal and the president of the Vatican as a means to serve his own ambition, rather than the good of the flock. He’d derailed several worthy progressive initiatives—especially those supporting the poor—hiding behind the excuse of fiscal responsibility. That, of course, hadn’t stopped Lazo from spending exorbitant amounts of money on anything that involved his personal comfort or security.

Lazo remained a dangerous man for many reasons. In addition to the significant power he wielded, he was the key to several important Vatican coalitions, including ones he’d formed within the Foreign Office, the finance department, and a group including several important Italian bishops, minus Father Armando. All of which, Slash was certain, added up to a carefully orchestrated plan to ensure Lazo one day ascended to the papacy.

Regardless, Slash had no intention of playing the game on Lazo’s terms, whatever the game might be. But he had to factor in the variables.

“I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice.” Lazo spoke with a slight accent from the southwest region of Campania near Naples, where he’d been born. Father Koenhein discreetly disappeared into the outer office, closing the door behind him.

The cardinal held out a hand, clearly expecting Slash to take it or kneel. He did neither. President of the Vatican or cardinal, he would never kneel to this man. Respect and devotion was earned, and Lazo had done nothing to deserve his.

Displeasure flashed in the cardinal’s eyes as he dropped his hand before walking toward a small refrigerator. “Can I offer you a refreshment? Coffee? Chilled water?” His voice remained light, unfailingly polite, but Slash could hear the steel in the undercurrents.

He didn’t respond. Better Lazo understood from the start he would not be malleable to his demands. Lazo took two bottles of water out of the refrigerator anyway, and handed one over. Slash accepted it, but offered no thanks.

Perhaps finally understanding that his station or intimidation would have no effect, Lazo waved at a chair. “Please have a seat. Let’s start over.”

Slash considered a moment before setting his duffel next to the chair and sitting. Lazo took the chair across from him, leaning back and crossing his legs. He noticed at once his chair was slightly lower than Lazo’s, certainly not an oversight. However, instead of projecting the intended authority and dominance, it signaled blatant insecurity. That meant Lazo needed something and wasn’t sure he had enough power to force Slash’s compliance.

“Thank you for coming,” the cardinal finally said. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you here.”

Anger leapt and simmered. The audacity and arrogance of the man was astounding. “Sending unsigned, threatening notes and packages, blocking my brother’s request for marriage in the church, and providing an unusual display of fireworks on my front lawn can hardly be considered an invitation,” he finally said. “An email or a phone call would have sufficed.”

Amusement crossed the cardinal’s face, as if he were delighted by his imagined cleverness. “Oh, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply heard you’d arrived in town, so I asked Father Koenhein to find you and request a meeting.”

Slash had to fight the urge to wipe the smirk off of the cardinal’s face. It wasn’t easy. “Don’t waste my time pretending ignorance. What’s so urgent that it requires my physical presence?”

“It’s really quite a simple matter, but it’s delicate, and not something that can be discussed over the phone. I’m fortunate you happen to be in Rome to discuss this in person with me.”

The fingers on one hand curled into a fist, but he deliberately opened them and wrapped them around the bottled water instead.Breathe in, breathe out.Invite the calm.Lazo had to play his cards, and Slash had to wait for them.

“So, discuss, Cardinal.” He hoped his voice sounded like he couldn’t care less, instead of wishing he could plow his fist through Lazo’s self-serving grin.

Probably believing he had him on the hook, Lazo leaned forward eagerly. “I have a special and quite important request for you.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to publicly acknowledge your biological father.”

For a second, Slash couldn’t breathe.

His biological father?

Surprise, anger and disbelief coursed through him in a tangled rush. He knew his background was a source of interest to many at the Vatican. There had been plenty of people who’d assumed he had special connections that had helped catapult him to the highest echelons in such a short period of time. But he knew differently. It was skill, not heritage, that propelled him upward. He’d earned every damn thing he’d ever received. So, why did Lazo want him to reveal his parentage now, and how did it fit into his grand scheme?

When he felt in control of his emotions, he spoke. “Why do you care who my father is?”

“Why?” The cardinal lifted his hands. “Oh, my child. Because it’s quite important to the church, of course.”

Slash didn’t believe that for a minute. Everything the cardinal said and did served only one purpose—his own positioning for the papacy. But he pressed on, needing more information. “How exactly does my so-called acknowledgment of my father assist you or the church?”

“It will help me take the church in a new direction.”

“What’s wrong with the direction it’s going in now?”

The cardinal pressed his fingers together as he studied Slash. “I’m afraid it’s moving too far away from traditional values. I intend to bring us back.”