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“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, whateverthisis, 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 judge 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.”

“Ialreadylove 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.”