A Fashion Felon in Rome Read Online Free PDF

stopped myself, apprehensive to share any personal information with the stranger.
    “Good.  Anyway, yes, the women will be there.  Along with Sophia of course.  She’s been informed of the plan, but Denise and Evelyn have not,” Massimo revealed, veering onto the gridlocked main road.
    “So I guess you didn’t take my idea seriously, then,” I mused.
    “What idea? That Sophia Pucci is the murderer?” Massimo chuckled condescendingly, reaching for his coffee cup and swearing in Italian when he found it empty.  “It was an interesting theory, I have to admit, but not very probable.”
    “You really do speak English very well,” I commented, wondering why he had been so unsure of himself the day before.  “You said you lived in London?”
    “Yes, I went to college there.  Lived there for 4 years.  But that was more than a decade ago, and I speak Italian all the time, so it’s hard to keep my English fresh ,” Massimo sighed, cranking the window down and allowing a breeze to mix with the cigar remnants.
    “It seems pretty fresh to me,” I observed, watching the sights in slow motion.  The rush hour traffic was the perfect opportunity for me to capture a leisurely view of Rome…without a ticking taxi cab meter stressing me out.
    “Thanks.  Now let me brief you on what I need you to do.” Massimo glanced over at me and waited for me to meet his gaze.
    Taking my eyes off a charming brick oven pizzeria, I fixed my gaze on a more distressingly charming sight.  “I’m listening.  Io ascolto ,” I emphasized in Italian.
    “ Bene .  Sophia’s auditions for the dress designers, and only the dress designers, will resume today.  You’re going to introduce me to everyone as your boyfriend.”
    “My what?!” I cried, startled.
    “Your boyfriend,” Massimo repeated calmly.  “That will explain why I’m at your side all day.  Otherwise, I’ll just look like a lurking pervert.” His eyes glittered with naughtiness as I turned away again and stared out the window.
    “This is ridiculous,” I argued.  “So now you want me to be both an investigator and an actress? Why don’t you just pretend to be Sophia’s boyfriend? She shouldn’t have a problem with the role.”
    “Sophia is 46.  I’m 34.  It wouldn’t be realistic for us to be a couple.”
    “Why not? Can’t she have a boy toy? She has everything else! Besides, that’s not such a huge age difference.”
    “In Italy it is,” Massimo insisted.
    “But not if we were talking about a man being 12 years older than a woman.  That would be perfectly normal, right?” I was getting riled up now, my American ideologies always trumping my Italian roots.
    “As much as I’d love to have a feminist debate with you,” Massimo drawled sarcastically, “this really isn’t the time.”
    My eyes blazed at him, but I didn’t press the issue. “Fine,” I submitted. “You’re my boyfriend.  Where did we meet?”
    “In New York.  You are from Manhattan, right?”
    “No, I’m from West Nyack.  It’s a suburb about an hour away from Manhattan.”
    “West Nyack?” Massimo echoed blankly.  “Never heard of it.  But okay, West Nyack.  And we’ve been together for a year.”
    I cringed at the irony, reminded of my real one-year anniversary that was right around the corner.  What would Richard think if he knew I was driving around Rome with some suave private investigator trying to solve a homicide of a Spanish Casanova I had only met once?  I shuddered to think how upset he would be at the crazy situation I had landed myself in.
    “Okay, here we are.” Massimo swerved into the Sheraton parking lot, deftly parking the sleek Fiat and turning off the engine.  “Any questions?”
    “Yeah, only about a million,” I grumbled, reaching for the door handle.
    “Relax.  You’re doing a good thing, Gianna.  We’re going to get this murderer.  Maybe not today, but soon.”
    Nodding as a response, I climbed out of the car and