The Stolen Da Vinci Manuscripts by Joshua Elliot James Page B

our
relationship was perfect until he spoiled it by asking me to marry
him. He was the one responsible for sparking my passion for red
high heel shoes - and the Argentine tango, the most sensuous dance
in the world. The two fit together so perfectly.
     
    The moment I see him, old emotions flood
back. His gorgeous black hair is a little longer than before and I
imagine how great it would look slicked-back under dance floor
floodlights. His hazel eyes show obvious pleasure in seeing me and
his strong arms engulf me greedily.
    “Arcadia, you look radiant!” He compliments
and takes a step back to admire me from head to foot. “Ah - red
shoes.”
    “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
    “You could never disappoint me, you know
that. Your father tells me you’re off on another quest
tomorrow.”
    “Yes, another adventure.”
    “Where?”
    “Italy.”
    “Italy… so romantic.”
    “Yes. It is.”
    “Do you know what’s happening in Rome next
week?” He asks with a boyish grin.
    I haven’t heard of anything in the news or
media. “No.”
    “The European Tango Championships.”
    My pulse quickens. “No! - Where?”
    “The ‘La Cabala’ club.”
    “Oh I must go!”
    “Let me take you.” Gavin suggests out of the
blue.
    “No, you can’t, you mustn’t, how can you? Can you?” The words leave my mouth without control.
    “Yes - I can. I have no assignments
pending.”
    My arms grab around his neck and he swings me
around. “I can’t believe it!”
     
    We ate ‘Italian’ tonight, just to get in the
mood.
    My parents are thrilled that Gavin will
accompany me, more for hopes of rekindled feelings than as a
protector I think, they always liked him.
    I wish the handmade pair of shoes I ordered
from the Craddock Terry shoe manufacturers at Lynchburg in Virginia
had arrived in time, but oh well, I’ll just have to make do.

Chapter 3: The Mysterious Man From Rome
     
     
    The flight to Rome takes no time, in part
because Gavin is there to amuse me. Being back with him is
comfortable, like putting on an old pair of slippers.
    “So what have you done since we were last
together?” He asks during the taxi ride to our hotel.
    “Well, let’s see… I achieved ‘black belt’
level in karate, wrote an advanced computer archaeology program and
completed the Spanish language course. I think that’s it.”
    “As well as teaching at Harvard and
‘curating’ the museum – how on earth do you find the time?”
    “You can always find time if you love
what you do”. I answer.
    We arrive at the Hotel Eden Rome and check
in, just before dark.
    “Adjoining rooms?” He asks.
    “Certainly – with the connecting door lock on my side.” I agree.
    “Fair enough.”
    The rooms are spacious and decorated toward
the Renaissance period. Four poster beds draped with gold and green
sateen dominate each and I notice Gavin’s eyes light appreciably
but refrain from commenting. The view from the windows is
breathtaking across the seven historic hills of Rome, which cradle
the Forum, the Coliseum, the Vatican and the Trevi Fountain.
    “Let’s freshen up and find that address, then
have dinner.” He suggests.
    “No, let’s just have dinner.” I counter.
    “But I thought…”
    I know what you thought, but this is my show.
“I don’t think it wise to investigate a strange neighbourhood at
night.”
    “You’re right; Okay, dinner then.”
    I usher Gavin to his room to change clothes
and make sure he hears the lock engage behind him.
    We decide to have dinner at the famous
rooftop restaurant, La Terrazza dell' Eden The Italian cuisine is
marvelous, the wine list a connoisseur's dream and the panorama
view over Rome is spectacular. I feel like a tourist but have to
remind myself that I am here to do my detective work. Five other
couples are enjoying the food and wine, and become captive diners
when lightning and thunder erupts unexpectedly around us. Fabric
globe lanterns, strung around the open terrace, swing