Chapter Nine
If empty plates were anything to go by, then Simone judged that the dinner had been a huge success.
It had been a simple enough yet traditional Milanese meal.
Osso Bucco, risotto, some salads made from greens grown in the garden.
She’d wanted it to feel like something homely, rather than a business meal and it had worked.
The patio, where they sat, was lit up with fairy lights.
The vibe elegantly casual. Simone was sure that all of this was something Leo wouldn’t have agreed to if asked, but she hadn’t asked and he’d let her organise everything.
Considering the man controlled every facet of his life and his image, it had come as a surprise.
She’d expected him to have asked the chef about the menu, or say something about the flurry of activity around the house in preparation, but he hadn’t even offered any advice.
It was so unlike their wedding, when he’d planned the whole thing down to the last second.
Even when he’d offered her a choice, she knew it was under sufferance and he’d had a firm view of what he wanted.
This? It made her feel trusted. Valued. Like she had an opinion and a place in his life. It meant something.
‘Your apple pie was magnificent,’ Rita said. She was about Leo’s age, with short black hair and dark, expressive eyes.
‘Thank you. I worried it might be a bit heavy after the meal we just had but…’
‘I know. Dessert. How can you go wrong?’ Rita smiled. ‘It reminds me of my time studying in the US. I must have the recipe.’
‘Of course. Before you go give me your email. I’ll send it to you.’
There’d been some talk of business tonight.
How to grow and evolve a brand. Meatier topics such as the challenges of managing a business that relied on a discretionary spend, in a downturn.
Leo was less affected, the Tessitores a little more so.
Is that why they’d talked of selling their business?
What should have been a purely financial transaction seemed so much more.
She’d always suspected that it was personal for them.
She began to believe it more strongly, but there was something else.
Simone wondered if they wanted to sell at all.
These were questions everyone seemed to be skirting round.
Something almost…personal. She guessed that it would have to be a very personal decision to divest yourself of a company that had been in your family for generations…
‘May I ask…’ She directed her question to Fia, who she’d discovered had been Tessitore’s designer for a number of years.
It was how she and Gino had met, a workplace romance.
‘I understand you’re looking to sell Tessitore Fabrics.
But why, since you so clearly love the company?
It’s been in the family for generations. You’re still the principal designer.’
It was like a stylus scratching across a record, as if she’d said something discordant and the sound simply stopped. If there’d been an elephant in the room, it had just stomped into plain sight. Fia gave a sad smile.
‘My health.’
Gino reached out and placed his hand over his wife’s, just like she’d done for Leo.
‘I’m sorry for raising it,’ Simone said.
Fia sighed. ‘No, no. It’s been a long time coming.
It was a flaw that we relied too much on me and my designs.
And as for our children, it’s not where their talents and interests lie.
Rita is an archivist. My son, a textile chemist. My granddaughter, my son’s eldest, is artistic and we’ve encouraged her to try fabric design.
She shows immense promise, but she’s only fifteen and who knows what she’ll want to do when she’s older. ’
‘So there’s currently no one you trust but yourself?’
Fia shook her head. ‘No, we have some designers.’
‘But they’re not Fia,’ Gino said.
Leo had sat back, watching. Not really contributing, until this moment. ‘How much time are you looking at, before your health intervenes and divesting becomes a necessity?’
Fia shrugged. ‘It’s my eyes, a rare condition.
I require surgery, though not immediately.
Whilst I can still design, it’s sometimes harder to do what I used to.
Surgery carries risks. If it’s unsuccessful my sight will deteriorate.
If the risks eventuate, I’ll be left unable to see.
So perhaps it’s time to move on, spend it with grandchildren and family and work less.
You believe you’re invincible, until suddenly you find out you’re not.
Then you have to think about life and what you need to do. ’
It was all so familiar to Simone. How she still felt about grasping what was offered to you and not letting it simply slide by. Life was for living, not merely existing.
She should know. She’d existed for long enough.
‘I know that feeling, even though it’s for different reasons. Life can be short. One day everything’s fine. The next, everything can change in an instant.’
Everyone around the table looked sombre, nodding.
‘I’m only sorry for dampening the mood of a lovely evening by asking,’ Simone said.
‘No.’ Leo turned to her. There was something in his gaze, an intensity, like he’d been lit from within.
It burned. Then he focussed on the Tessitores once more.
‘This is an important discussion. I’m coming to understand that you’re under pressure to do something.
Would I be right in saying that if things were different, you wouldn’t be looking to sell the company at all? ’
The family members looked at each other. Gino shook his head.
‘Fia is the soul of the designs. If we had more time, other plans could be put in place. If it happened in ten years, our granddaughter might have been old enough and interested enough to join the company. For now, nothing’s clear and our only interest is in seeing Tessitore survive.
We’d prefer to plan, than to sell when the news is out and the vultures have started circling. ’
Leo lounged back in his dining chair. The space was lit up by candles and the glittering lights above them.
People might like to believe he was relaxed.
However, Simone knew him far better. She could see it, the way he was thinking.
The merest furrow on his brow when he turned and the light catching his face the right way.
Appearing relaxed yet really, just all power sheathed.
Like she’d thought once before. A panther waiting to spring onto its prey.
A liquid kind of heat flooded through Simone.
Pooling, settling low. There was a reason no one should ever underestimate Leo Zanetti and she was witnessing it right now.
‘What if I proposed not a sale or takeover, but a partnership? Circolo has the financial capacity to support the business if it needs to transition. That could give Tessitore time and space. The family wouldn’t have to forgo all their shares.
Should Fia have the capacity or desire, she could still design.
Should your granddaughter decide her future lies with the business, and she has the talent, the opportunity to continue the family tradition wouldn’t be lost to her.
Then, hasty decisions wouldn’t need to be made.
We could invite guest designers to create fabrics whilst Fia’s getting treatment. It might be a better solution for you.’
Fia and Rita’s eyes widened. They smiled. Gino cocked his head and fixed Leo with a dark, assessing gaze.
‘What do you get from the deal?’
Leo laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I’m no charity and I’ll take my fair share but I understand the importance of tradition.
Circolo would be partnering with the oldest and finest textile maker in Italy.
That would give us significant cultural and design capital.
I’d expect exclusivity on certain fabric patterns, which only Circolo branded or approved products would carry.
I might ask for a veto on who the fabrics can be sold to.
I can draw up terms, then we can talk more, should you be interested in my offer. ’
Simone sat back in her chair. Simply marvelling as Leo had pivoted so effortlessly.
But even more, he’d taken the realisation that the family didn’t want to sell and offered something which let them keep at least part of the company in the family.
They didn’t have to let it go. The offer was stunning. Generous.
It showed a new side to him she hadn’t known existed.
Gino looked at his family. Fia and Rita nodded. ‘Then we might be able to make a deal.’
There seemed to be a lightness that came over the table.
A sense of hope. They drank wine, talked some more.
A friendly getting-to-know-you, till it was time for them to leave.
It was like the edge had been burnished from the evening, sharp sides sanded smooth.
Leo and Simone walked them to the front door and said their warm goodbyes.
After closing the door, he turned. The look on his face intent.
He stalked towards her, backing her towards the wall.
Pressed her up against it, a hand above her head.
‘You are an inspiration.’