Four
Ellory
I smooth the wrinkles from my skirt and take a steadying breath.
When Matteo and I parted ways after lunch last week, I fully expected a follow-up. A message. A call. Something. But then a week came and went in silence. By Wednesday, I caved and reached out.
Now, it feels like I’m chasing him.
Normally, I’d write off someone like Matteo—charming, evasive, probably a serial flirt—but this isn’t about pride. I can’t afford to walk away. Not from this opportunity. I don’t need him, exactly. I need what the Marinos can do for Olivier.
Upstairs in the conference room, Night to Remember is displayed on a mannequin.
Even now, the gown steals my breath. The red silk catches the light like a living flame, the rough diamonds winking from their settings with wild elegance.
It doesn’t whisper luxury. It roars it. Our designers are masters at setting traditional stones—cut to perfection, brilliant, precise—but rough diamonds?
That’s a different language entirely. One we’ve only just begun to speak.
Still, we have a vision. After the response in Paris, I know we’re onto something. This line could redefine who we are. It could change everything.
My phone buzzes. The security guard from the showroom.
Guard: Ms. Matisse, Dante and Matteo Marino have arrived.
Me: Please let them know I’ll be right down.
I check the mirror one last time, swipe on fresh lipstick, run a brush through my hair. The extra seconds help me tame the nerves fluttering just beneath my skin. Then I head for the elevator.
The moment the doors open, I spot them.
They’re impossible to miss, both men dressed to kill. Heads turn as I step into the lobby. They wear confidence like a second skin. The kind that makes people move out of their way without realizing it. The receptionist practically melts.
Dante wears a crisp navy suit, white shirt, and a soft yellow tie. Impeccable. Calm. Effortless. His hair is perfectly styled, and he moves like someone used to being listened to.
Beside him, Matteo is all dark edges and heat. Charcoal-gray suit, pale blue shirt, matching tie. His hair is tousled just enough to look like he rolled out of bed that way on purpose. The scruff along his jaw? Devastating.
He spots me first.
“Ellory,” Matteo says, opening his arms, as if we’re old friends. “So wonderful to see you again.”
He gestures to the man beside him. “This is my older brother, Dante. He’s the CEO of Luster. Eventually you’ll meet my brothers, Luca, and Ciro plus our little sister Gianna.”
Dante extends a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I can’t tell you how much it meant when we heard you were the one who bought the dress. I didn’t design it, technically, just the buttons down the back and the one at the hip.”
A smile lifts my lips. “Then you’re responsible for some of its most striking details.”
“Come,” I say, motioning toward the stairs. “It’s set up in our conference room.”
As we walk, Dante adds, “We were at the show all week. Felicity made a dozen changes right before it went live. I saw the final version maybe two hours before it hit the runway. But really, it was all her. I just offered options.”
Upstairs, I offer drinks. “Would either of you like something? Coffee? Tea? Sparkling or still water? Juice?”
“Flat water’s perfect,” Matteo says.
“Same,” Dante echoes.
While someone retrieves the drinks, Dante steps closer to the mannequin. He studies the dress like a collector with a rare piece of art. “I hope we get to see you wear it someday. It’s a masterpiece.”
I laugh softly. “I could go on about it for hours, but honestly? It’s the rough diamonds that make it. Like frosting on a red silk cake.”
Dante smiles, a faint blush touching his cheeks. “I love that. It helped that the designer was willing to take a risk.”
“Since the show, we’ve had several inquiries,” Matteo offers. “I expect we’ll see more of this aesthetic, especially in couture.”
“I think so too.” I stare at the gown I hope will shape Olivier’s future.
“My father keeps threatening to retire, and everyone expects me to step up. But the truth is, the market’s shifting.
Our core customers are over forty-five. Younger buyers associate diamonds with conflict and environmental harm.
If we don’t evolve, the industry won’t survive. ”
He looks from the dress to me.
I gaze at the dress. “My hope is that we can use your rough diamonds to create something modern, ethical, and fresh. Something that speaks to a new generation.”
“Wow,” Matteo says. “I’m not in marketing, but that sounds amazing.”
I nod slowly. “That’s exactly the direction we’re heading. A new kind of luxury—responsible, but still exquisite.”
Dante holds my gaze, and for a moment, the room is quiet.
Then Matteo clears his throat and flashes a charming grin. “Sounds like the start of a beautiful partnership.”
Dante sets his water on the table. “Every stone we sell through Luster is ethically sourced from certified conflict-free regions. I know you and your father have your own sourcing network, but if you’re ever looking to expand your inventory to traditional diamonds, I’d love for you to consider us.
I can also connect you with our gemstone tour guide.
He’s personally vetted hundreds of sites. ”
“That would be great,” I say, more relieved than I expected to sound. “A lot of our stones still come from my father’s old contacts, and if I’m honest, I’m not always confident in the origins. The paperwork says all the right things, but I’ve learned that doesn’t always mean much.”
Dante nods, expression tightening with understanding.
“I’ve walked away from plenty of suppliers for exactly that reason.
You get there, and it’s all smoke and mirrors.
I’ll send you Jim Wheeler’s info. Our Nevada mine operates with full transparency, environmentally responsible and fully documented.
With the two major pipes we’ve uncovered, a partnership with Olivier could be mutually transformative.
We’ve not seen stones like this from other mines. ”
I offer a measured smile, though a flicker of hesitation runs beneath it. “Right now, we’re primarily focused on acquiring rough stones. Our designers want to create the settings from scratch, using the natural shape and character of the stones to lead the design.”
What I don’t say is that I’m not sure I could get my father to approve a formal partnership with the Marinos. Not yet.
Dante seems to catch the hesitation. He doesn’t push.
Just nods. “Of course. And to be honest, we’re hoping the mine starts producing cleaner stones eventually.
But so far? Heavy inclusions and brilliance issues.
That said, our operations are U.S.-regulated.
No child labor. No shady labor practices. That part matters to us.”
Matteo clears his throat. “Actually, it was Larkin Knight—our head of PR—who pitched the idea to collaborate with a designer. Once the press picked it up, it kind of snowballed.”
I turn toward him. He’s been quieter than I expected, distracted, even. His energy at lunch last week is the only reason we’re in this room together today.
“I was thinking,” I say, keeping my focus on the project, “we could launch with a bold necklace, something architectural and striking. Maybe matching earrings to create a visual anchor. A statement piece to lead the campaign.”
Dante lights up. “Yes. Strong lines. Let the raw stones do the talking. Maybe even integrate them asymmetrically, make imperfection the centerpiece.”
I smile, the spark of real collaboration catching hold. “Exactly.”
We fall into an easy rhythm, bouncing ideas, sketching rough concepts in our heads. Dante’s sharp, analytical but imaginative, and there’s no doubt he’s passionate.
Matteo smiles when I speak, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
There’s something behind them—fatigue, distraction, maybe regret.
Whatever it is, he’s not the man I had lunch with.
Every now and then, he chimes in with marketing suggestions that are smart and intuitive, but his focus is inconsistent.
His eyes drift. His attention dips. It’s clear his mind is elsewhere.
By the end of the meeting, we’ve made real progress.
We agree to review a broader selection of stones.
Dante will bring over samples, including a few larger pieces they’ve recently found.
I’ll loop in my lead designer, Antoine Lefrance, for our next session, and we’ll experiment with roughs closer to finished settings rather than starting with raw cut stock.
But even with that momentum, I walk away feeling unsettled.
Because of Matteo.
He was warm, charismatic, even flirty when it was just the two of us. The chemistry between us felt undeniable. Then Celeste started calling. He suggested dinner. I said no, wanting to keep things professional, insisting on this meeting instead. Maybe that put him off. Maybe I misread everything.
Today, he felt a million miles away.
And I shouldn’t care. But somehow, it stings more than I want to admit.
Sophie sweeps into the Italian restaurant like a caffeinated hurricane in heels, arms open, eyes sparkling. Her energy makes my chest loosen—just a little. She pulls me into a hug before I can even stand.
“Okay,” she says, breathless and gleeful. “Tell me everything. How was your hot date today?”
I pull back and roll my eyes. “It wasn’t a date.”
She waves a hand like that’s a technicality. “Business meeting, date… When it involves two gorgeous, single men, it still counts as something exciting.”
Even the mention of dating makes my skin prickle. I feel the heat crawl up my neck.