Looking into Alessandro’s eyes, Ariana could tell he was devoted to his craft. As he led them through the factory, where a brilliant array of silk yarn in every imaginable color on spools filled pegs, he explained that China now provided most of the raw material due to the labor-intensive process.
“We perform all the processes of warping and weaving in-house,” Alessandro said, pausing by an intricate loom. “This is one of our recently restored looms. My grandfather once used it.”
Gia cut in. “Ariana would like to see your designs. As I mentioned when I called, her aunt purchased Villa Fiori.”
“An exquisite jewel box with a superb location,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “If anyone has the style to resurrect Villa Fiori, it is Signora Raines. She has great personal style.”
Ariana smiled. Fans loved her aunt. “You’ve seen her films?”
“Oh, yes. And we had tea at the hotel a few weeks ago. Your aunt is a beautiful woman.”
Ariana and Gia traded looks. Her aunt had never mentioned having met Alessandro, and from the look on Gia’s face, she was fairly certain that Gia hadn’t known either. So how had they ended up here?
Vera. Gia’s sister had suggested it, Ariana recalled.
Alessandro was looking at her with interest. “We can make whatever you can imagine. We have about 100,000 designs in our archives. Would you like to see our design department?”
As Ariana followed him, she noted how people’s faces lit up when he approached. “Ciao, ciao,” he said to employees. He paused to praise one woman on her work and to answer a question from another man. She was struck by how familial they all seemed, and she couldn’t imagine anyone at the studio treating Kingsley with such affection. Or anyone else in management.
Her work environment hadn’t always been that way, though. When she’d first started working at the company, creativity was the lingua franca, but since being acquired by a private equity firm, the entire management had shifted. Kingsley was one of the private-equity hires whose job was to focus on the bottom line and squeeze every ounce of profit from his departments.
Alessandro paused by one large room filled with hi-tech equipment. “Besides our designs, we can also take hand-drawn designs and digitize them for printing. We also print by hand for our most high-end clients. After printing, steaming fixes the ink to the fabric and enhances the color. Then, the fabric is washed, dried, and finished.”
The scent of dye permeated the air. As Ariana watched, bolts of white silk fabric were fed through machines that printed intricate designs. “The intensity of color after steaming is impressive,” she said.
Alessandro turned to her with a look of interest. “Your aunt told me about your costume work. Did you always want to do that?”
“No,” she blurted out. What was it about this man that made her speak without thinking? Yet that was the truth. “I studied fashion design because I love to create. I like to see people transformed by clothes they love to wear. Likewise, the right costume helps actors get into character. It’s been a lot of fun, but I miss designing for real people.”
Alessandro’s smile broadened. “Spoken like a true artist. We are alike in that way,” he said, his deep voice reverberating in his chest. “Come, I’ll show you more.”
His words and phrasing caressed her like the softest silk Ariana could imagine. She shot Gia a look, but Gia seemed unfazed. Was Ariana imagining things, or were all Italian men as smooth as Alessandro? Maybe this is why her aunt loved Italy. If anyone was addicted to adoration, it was her aunt. Or perhaps that’s the image she wanted to portray. After all these years, her aunt was still an enigma, often surprising her.
They continued to another room that was full of samples and archived designs. “We have digitized our designs,” Alessandro said, pulling out a chair for her at a long table where swatch books were stacked.
Gia joined her and began to peruse the samples. “There are many good options here.”
Whether it was Alessandro’s attention or the dizzying array of choices before her, Ariana felt overwhelmed. Looking between Gia and Alessandro, she said, “Since you two know my aunt and Villa Fiori, what do you recommend?”
“May I?” Alessandro glanced at Gia, who nodded her assent. “Permit me,” he said, flipping through samples with a practiced hand. “One moment.”
In a flash, Alessandro left, but then he returned a moment later carrying several magnificent rolls of silk. With great showmanship, he unfurled them across the table. “What do you think?”
Ariana ran her hand across silk as soft as an angel’s breath. Magenta, fuchsia, violet—hot floral colors strewn across a shimmering turquoise background. “Oh, yes,” she murmured, not even stopping to consider all the details she usually would have.
Instinctively, she knew these were perfect. The dusty colors she’d once considered would wash out against the vibrant backdrop of the lake and mountains. And she knew Ruby would love the vivid colors.
“And this.” Alessandro draped another choice over the table, the fabric flowing like a waterfall of aquamarine hues.
Ariana held an edge to her cheek, reveling in the cool, whisper-soft texture. She could see these fabrics in luxurious throws and pillows of all shapes and sizes, or draping from a window, puddling to the floor. Looking up, she was surprised to see Alessandro staring at her. A small smile tugged his lips.
“You like it?” he asked, holding her gaze.
“It’s perfect,” she said, losing herself in the moment. Catching herself, she blinked. Was she being too hasty? She let go of the fabric. “But of course, I’d like to see some others, too.” At her comment, she registered a brief flash of disappointment in his hazel eyes.
He gave a slight nod. “But of course,” he said, echoing her words in a deep baritone.
Ariana turned to Gia. “What do you think?”
Gia seemed as transfixed as she was. “These are excellent choices, but let’s see what else we can find.”
They spent the next half hour sorting through some of the most beautiful silks Ariana had ever seen. In the end, they only added a few other designs to Alessandro’s recommendations, though Ariana loved his choices the most.
Gia folded her hands and smiled. “Alessandro is a renowned silk savant.”
A woman appeared at the door. “Scusa, Alessandro?” She tapped her wrist to indicate the time.
“Sì, sì. I must go,” Alessandro said. After introducing Paolina, he excused himself, promising to return soon.
Paolina slid into the chair Alessandro vacated and took up where he left off, helping them calculate the amount of fabric they would need. At one point, Paolina asked for coffee, and Ariana was grateful for the little cup of strong espresso.
After finishing the details, Ariana and Gia started back to the car. Just then, Alessandro pulled up beside them in the parking area. He stepped from a four-door Maserati and waved at them.
“Momento,” he called out, just as two children tumbled from the back seat. Laughing, they raced toward the front door to the factory. “Scusi, Ariana, may I ask a question?”
Just then, Gia’s phone buzzed. “It’s my husband. Go ahead. I’ll take this in the car.”