Slash nodded. “Any appointments next week?”
“No, but come by for dinner any night.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“If I forgive him, will that matter?”
After a few seconds, Elsa said, “It will matter to you. You’ll lighten the burden you’ve been carrying around. Then, you canstart to heal. Maybe even stop all the swearing you two do at each other.”
They shared a smile.
“I still love him,” Slash said.
Elsa patted her hand. “I know.”
“I hate him too,” Slash said.
“That’s just how you protect your heart. He has to earn your trust, earn back your love.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “Forgive him.”
One more kiss. “I love you, Elsa.
“I love you, angel.”
“I’ll bolt you in.” Slash turned off the bedroom light, but left the hall light on. She wished Elsa wouldn’t live alone, but at eighty-five, Elsa did what Elsa wanted.
Elsa Santini took orders from no one.
Back in the kitchen, Slash confirmed the stove burners were off, left the light on over the stove. She locked the front door, exited, and pulled it closed. After throwing the deadbolt, she made her way to her SUV parked in the driveway.
As soon as she was on the road, she made a call. “I have a problem. Can I swing by?”
“I’ll let security know.”
The line went dead.
Fifteen minutes later, Slash pulled up to the iron gates with the giant S, rolled down the window and spoke to the night guard seated in the booth. “Slash for Luciano.”
“Mr. Santini’s expecting you.”
The gates opened, and she drove up the long driveway to the lit fountain out front. She rang the doorbell and waited. It was a moment before Luciano Santini opened his door. He wore a silk bathrobe and silk pajamas.
She stepped inside, kissed both of his cheeks. “Where are the bunnies?”
“Bunnies?”
“The Playboy ones, Mr. Hefner.”
His deep laugh filled the two-story foyer. “I’m alone.”
She didn’t believe him, but she wasn’t there to inquire about his sex life. She was there because she had a problem. Most of the Santini family didn’t like Slash. Like Carrera, they blamed her for what had happened.
Only Elsa and Luciano held no grudge.
He dropped an arm over her shoulder. “How ‘bout a cognac?”
“Only if it’s Santini liquor,” she replied with a smirk.
