Free A Fashion Felon in Rome by Anisa Claire West Page A

hadn’t eaten a morsel that night, and I was starting to feel faint.  Nothing could be better than a strawberry gelato sundae to calm my nerves and give me a much needed boost of strength.
    “This gelato is amazing,” I purred.  “How’s your mocha cone?”
    “ Delizioso ,” he replied, wiping his lips with a napkin.  “Now let’s get back on the road.  I don’t want to lose any more time.”
    “Okay,” I sighed contentedly, sated from the sweet treat.
    After indulging my taste buds, I passed the remainder of the ride ravishing my vision with moonlit waters and sandy promenades.  New York had its share of picturesque beaches, especially in the posh Hamptons, but Italy’s shores were simply magical.  I didn’t know if it was the full moon glowing over everything in sight or if it was the arresting man at my side, but my eyes had never glimpsed such a magnificent display of nature.
    “We’re here,” Massimo finally announced, slipping into tour guide mode.  “Stella Polare is a spectacular beach.  I highly recommend you visit before going back to New York.  Just be careful of the swindlers.  There are always men combing the beaches with fake designer scarves and other things trying to sell to the pretty ladies.”
    “I think I’d be able t o spot a knockoff,” I grinned knowing I could recognize a phony Fendi in my sleep.
    Massimo returned the grin.  “Sorry.  I almost forgot that you’re in the fashion world.  I’ve started to think of you as a private investigator like myself.”
    “Well, I’m not,” I protested.
    “So what’s your expert opinion on my clothes? What do you think of how I dress?” Massimo asked impishly.
    How you dress? I only want to know about how you undress …Banishing the wicked thought from my mind, I replied, “You dress like a rebel.  Leather and jeans.  Like an American rebel.  Very stylish.” And incredibly sexy.
    He grinned as we both glanced at the modest single -story cottage that faced the ocean.  In the dim twilight, it appeared empty, except for one window near the back that shone a sliver of light.
    “I think she’s home,” Massimo said as I craned my neck towards the driveway.
    “And so is Leonard! Look, isn’t that his car in the driveway?!”
    Massimo’s eyes flashed as he followed my gaze to the driveway.  “That’s definitely his car! Yes, that was the car he drove away in!” He gripped the door handle, apparently ready to fly and land on Evelyn’s doorstep.
    “But where’s her car?” I wondered aloud.
    “She took a cab back from the party,” Massimo reminded.
    “That’s right,” I recalled.  “And maybe Leonard and Evelyn share a car.  I mean, maybe they live here together?”
    “They must.  There’s no way an unemployed designer could afford a house on the beach.  Even a house as small as this one,” Massimo reasoned.
    “So what are we going to do now? Just storm the house?” I inquired.
    “I was hoping you would answer that question, boss,” Massimo smirked.
    “You’re kidding now, right?” I asked doubtfully.
    “No, because honestly, I don’t think either one of us knows what we’re going to do next.  We just have to do it.”
    “Wing it,” I added, exhaling nervously as Massimo’s smirk intensified.  “What? You look like you want to laugh at me.”
    “No…it’s just that you have a little gelato on your mouth,” he said humorously.
    “Where? Here?” Embarrassed, I dabbed my lips with a napkin.
    “No, right there ,” Massimo lightly pressed two fingers onto the corner of my mouth as I reflexively pulled away.
    “I can do it,” I scolded as his mood instantly switched to serious.
    “Okay, let’s go now.  Stop wasting time,” he grunted, barreling out of the car.
    I hurriedly shoved myself out of the car, catching up to Massimo who was walking an infuriating two paces ahead.  As I slid alongside him, we both watched as the back door of the beach cottage swung open.  Massimo held