by Ian Hamilton
Ava walked through the doors and onto a white marble floor. The foyer was oval, with doors to the left and right and in the centre. The ceiling was at least twelve-feet high and the walls were covered in art.
“The dining room is on the right,” Francesca said. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
Ava stepped inside and paused. There was a wooden table in the centre of the room surrounded by twelve chairs. The table was laid out with cured meats, cheeses, olives, peppers, breads, a platter of marinated squid and octopus, smoked mussels, and oysters on the half shell. Two bottles of red wine and two bottles of white were resting in ice buckets.
“Look at that food,” May said from behind. “There’s enough for twenty.”
“Never mind the food, look at what’s on the walls,” Amanda said. “Those are Picassos.”
“And that’s a Warhol,” Gillian said.
“Are they real?” Chi-Tze asked.
Amanda looked at her, amused. “Of course they are.”
“Don’t be so sure,” May said. “I first met Ava because Changxing and I hired her and Uncle to track down thieves who sold us fake paintings, all of which came from supposedly reputable dealers.”
“The art world may be filled with crooks, but given Dominic Ventola’s reputation for being thorough, it’s difficult to believe that these paintings are anything but genuine,” Amanda said.
“Are you discussing our art collection?”
Ava turned and saw Francesca standing in the doorway. “Yes. It’s wonderful,” she said.
“Dominic started buying many, many years ago, before some of these artists had earned their reputations and before others skyrocketed in value. The past few years have seen a tremendous rise in prices. He focuses now on new and emerging artists.”
“As he does with designers,” Ava said.
“He has a keen eye for talent, and he knows how to appreciate and nurture it.”
“You’ve been with him a long time?”
“More than twenty years. I’m his longest-serving employee,” Francesca said.
“Here at the villa?”
“Hardly.” She laughed. “But I don’t want to talk about me. There’s all this marvellous food here that mustn’t go to waste. Why don’t we eat.”
Francesca wasn’t the only household staff member. Over the next hour a man and a woman came to fill wineglasses and take away empty plates. When they had finished eating, the woman was joined by another and together with Francesca they led them upstairs to their assigned rooms.
“How many people can the villa accommodate?” Ava asked as they climbed the stairs.
“We’ve had as many as twelve guests,” Francesca said.
Chi-Tze and Amanda were the first to reach the second floor. They took five steps before stopping.
“Wow,” Chi-Tze said.
Francesca took Ava by the arm and guided her around the others. They faced down a long corridor with paintings on the walls and a line of nude male sculptures in bronze and marble.
“Do you need wakeup reminders?” Francesca asked.
“We have to leave at nine-thirty, so would you mind knocking on our doors at eight?”
“We’ll do that.”
Ava said goodnight to the others and went into her room. It was large enough to have its own bathroom, a king-size bed, a small desk and chair, and a chaise lounge. She took some clothes from her bag and headed to the bathroom. She emerged in a T-shirt and underwear and climbed immediately into bed, the white duvet covering her like a cloud.
She had barely closed her eyes when her phone rang. “Yes,” she said.
“It’s May.”
“I just got into bed. The room is fantastic.”
“Mine too, but I can’t help wondering what we’re doing here.”
“You called to tell me that?”
“No. I’ve started worrying again.”
“About what?”
“They’re going to try to seduce Clark.”
“We can’t worry until we know for sure what they want.”
“Maybe, but this is different.”
“Different how?”
“It’s a different kind of wealth, a different kind of culture, a different kind of sophistication than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“May, we’re not about to lose Clark.”
“How can you be so sure?”
( 6 )
Ava woke at seven, made a bathroom run, then nestled under the duvet for another fifteen minutes. When she couldn’t get back to sleep, she pulled herself from the bed and went to the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, its light faint behind a huge bank of grey clouds that hovered over the horizon. Rain streaked the window. She saw it spatter on the street and on the lamp-lit promenade, where not a single pedestrian was in sight. She shivered. It was probably five or six degrees outside, but damp, dank winters got into her bones.
She returned to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, stripped, and turned on the shower full force. She stepped inside and let the hot water pound her for ten minutes before picking up the bar of soap. When she got out, the room was filled with steam. She wrapped a thick towel around her head and another around her body before going back into the bedroom. Her bag sat by the side of the chaise lounge. She emptied it, placing her clothes in several piles.
She eyed two black dresses that Clark had made specifically for her. They were sleeker and sexier than anything she’d have bought for herself. Her tastes ran mainly to button-down shirts, slacks, and pencil skirts. During her years working with Uncle, she had thought of those clothes as her uniform. She was an accountant, after all, and they signalled that she was a professional who should be taken seriously. Now, given her involvement with the fashion world, she had a less clear idea about what image she should be presenting. She reached for her phone.
“Sorry to call a bit early,” she said.
“I’ve been up for a while,” May said. “We have a few issues in Wuhan that still need my attention.”
“It’s miserable outside.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to wear today?”
“I brought my pale blue Chanel suit, the one with the coral trim.”
“I love that suit. You were wearing it the first time I saw you.”
“I remember,” May said. “How about you?”
“I was thinking about a dress, but I decided just to go with one of my white Brooks Brothers shirts. It’s a plain button-down but it has French cuffs, so I can wear my jade cufflinks,” Ava said. “But I can’t make up my mind between slacks and a skirt.”
“Go with the skirt and wear your crocodile stilettos as well. You have great legs; it’s a shame not to show them,” May said. “One more thing: make sure you put your hair up with that ivory chignon pin.”
Ava smiled. She had bought the pin in Kowloon after finishing her first job and agreeing to become partners with Uncle. It was hundreds of years old and she could hardly afford it at the time. She believed it brought her luck, and she always wore it when she thought she needed it. So far it had never let her down. “I’ll be downstairs in about fifteen minutes,” Ava said.
“See you there.”
Ava walked over to the mirror that hung above the desk. She dried and brushed her hair and pulled it back, securing it with the ivory pin. She put on some black mascara and a light application of red lipstick. Next she put on the shirt, the black pencil skirt, and the stilettos. She stared at herself in the mirror. Not bad, she thought. She slid on her Cartier Tank Française watch and left the room.
“Good morning,” Francesca said from the top of the stairs. “We’ve laid out breakfast in the dining room. If anyone wants something warm like eggs or crêpes, the chef will be pleased to make it.”
“Thank you,” Ava said.
As Ava started along the corridor, May emerged from her room, wearing her Chanel suit, large diamond and platinum earrings, and an incredibly old and expensive white jade necklace
and bracelet set.
“If you don’t mind me saying it, both of you ladies look absolutely stunning,” Francesca said.
“Well, we have these boys to compete against,” May said, pointing to the sculptures.
Francesca laughed and moved past them down the hall.
Ava and May walked into the dining room to find that the massive spread from the evening before had been replaced by an equally large breakfast. There was a bowl of yogurt; other bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries; plates of smoked salmon and smoked trout; baskets filled with rolls and sliced bread; a plate layered with prosciutto; and a row of cheeses. Two coffee urns and another marked HOT WATER with a selection of teabags next to it were set up on a side table.
“This is never-ending,” May said. “I’m still full from last night.”
“Coffee is all I can handle,” Ava said.
“We should eat a little something, if only to be polite.”
“I might be able to manage a slice or two of smoked salmon,” Ava said.
“Another feast,” Amanda said from behind them.
“They’re certainly being hospitable,” Gillian said.
“Well, let’s enjoy it and then we can chat. Where’s Clark?” Ava said.
“He wants to sleep in. He doesn’t have to be here —I know what he wants,” Gillian said.
“And what’s that?” Ava said.
“To meet Dominic Ventola.”
Ava cast a glance at May.
They settled around the table with cups of coffee or tea and a sampling of food.
“I was wondering, should we take our luggage with us when we leave this morning?” Chi-Tze asked.
“Yes, I think we should,” Ava said. “If there’s a reason for us to stay longer, we can always bring it back.”
“The only reason to stay is if, as we expect, VLG wants to buy into PÖ,” Amanda said.
“We discussed that in London. Has our position changed?” Gillian said.
“No, we’re all still on the same page,” Ava said. “But they may make us an offer that we want to consider. And if they do and we like what we hear, it will take more than one day to sort things out.”
“As enticing a prospect as that sounds, are we all still agreed that the only offer that interests us is one that won’t change our basic structure and control, won’t threaten Clark’s independence, and will make a real contribution to our growth?” Gillian said.
“We are absolutely in agreement about that,” Ava said
“Offer or no offer, I think we need to agree on how we’re going to conduct ourselves during the meeting,” May said.
“What do you suggest?” Amanda asked.
“First, we should be doing more listening than talking,” May said. “And next, we should let Ava handle any business questions they have and Clark should respond to everything on the creative side.”
“That makes sense to me,” Gillian said.
Ava looked at Amanda and Chi-Tze. They both nodded.
“Then, if we’re set, why don’t we spend the rest of the next hour or so talking about something more relevant,” Ava said.
“Like what?”
“How do we fully capitalize on the success of the London show? How do we use Pang Fai to maximize our advantage over the next six months?”
“That’s all Gillian and I have been talking about,” Chi-Tze said.
“Then let’s hear your thoughts,” Ava said.
They were still strategizing by the time Clark emerged from his room. He said good morning, reached for a plate, and sat by himself. He wore black jeans and a plain long-sleeved black cotton shirt that was buttoned to the neck.
“You’re dressed so simply,” Ava said.
“With a man like Dominic Ventola, I don’t have to draw attention to myself,” he said. “He’s seen my work. My personal image doesn’t matter.”
“Clark knows how this game is played,” Gillian said.
( 7 )
Riccardo and Giacomo arrived at the villa just before nine-thirty to pick up the team. They hadn’t driven more than ten minutes when they ran into heavy traffic.
“It’s the weather,” Riccardo said. “You would think people around here would be used to rain and fog in the winter, but every time it gets like this, traffic crawls.”
“We’re not in a rush,” Ava said.
As they continued the long, slow trek to Milan, Riccardo tried to point out the sights, but visibility was atrocious. Every fifteen minutes he got on the phone. She imagined he was updating the office with progress reports.
The weather began to lift and traffic flow improved when they reached the outskirts of Milan.
“Where is the office?” she asked.
“On Via Borgospesso. Do you know it?”
“I’ve never been to Milan.”
“But you’ve heard of the street maybe? Or the streets surrounding it, like Via Santa Spirito, Via Sant’Andrea, Via Monte Napoleone?”
“No, I’m sorry I haven’t.”
“They’re famous for their designer shops and offices,” he said. “From our offices you can kick a football in any direction and hit Salvatore Ferragamo, Dolce and Gabbana, Paul Smith, Valentino, Stella McCartney, Versace, or Armani.”
“Impressive.”
“It’s Milan.”
They left the highway and merged onto a six-lane boulevard, which soon became four lanes and then narrowed into two. Ava saw a sign for Via Santa Spirito and knew they had to be close to VLG. A moment later, Riccardo turned onto Via Borgospesso. It was a short, narrow one-way street lined with buildings that were two or three storeys high. They drove for thirty metres, then Riccardo slowed and parked the car on the sidewalk. The other Maserati was directly behind them.
“That is Signore Ventola’s first store,” Riccardo said, pointing to the left. Ava saw a shop window with two mannequins in men’s suits. There was no sign on the window or above the door.
Riccardo climbed out of the car and opened the doors. After they had all assembled on the crowded sidewalk, he said, “Follow me.”
As they walked past the shop window, Ava saw a small brass plaque on the wall with VENTOLA on it. They walked ten metres, to another door with a brass plaque that read VLG. Riccardo pressed the intercom button. There was a rapid response in Italian, an equally rapid reply, and the door clicked open.
“Signore Pandolfo will call me when you’re ready to leave,” Riccardo said. “Enjoy your visit.”
Ava stepped inside a large circular foyer that was eerily reminiscent of the villa. She stood there awkwardly, looking at the multiple doors and trying to figure out which one to enter. A door in the middle opened and a man she recognized from photos appeared. He had a large black moustache and thinning hair that curled around his ears.
“Mr. Pandolfo?” she said.
“Ava Lee and the rest of the Po family, welcome,” he said. “We’ve been waiting.”
“The weather and the traffic delayed us.”
“So Riccardo said. How was your stay at the villa?”
“It couldn’t have been better.”
“Wonderful. I’m just sorry that you didn’t get to see Lake Como and the surrounding countryside at their finest.”
“Maybe another time.”
“Perhaps later today, or tomorrow.”
“We brought our luggage with us,” Ava said. “We don’t anticipate staying another night. And besides, we don’t want to abuse your hospitality.”
He smiled and gently bowed his head. “Then let’s not waste the time we have. Follow me, if you will. We’ll make all the appropriate introductions when we’re in the boardroom.” He led them into a corridor lined with closed doors.
Ava’s heels clicked on the marble floor as her eyes flicked right and left. She took in the artwork that hung on the walls. “Was this a house?” she asked.
“Yes. We converted it years ago into an office. We have another, more modern and much larger office about two k
ilometres from here, but Dominic loves this place too much to leave. Our senior executive team works here.”
At the far end of the corridor Ava noticed a door slightly ajar. As she drew near she saw a woman seated at a boardroom table working on a computer.
Pandolfo opened the door and stood to one side. When the PÖ team had filed past, he stepped in behind them.
“Let me introduce Gabriella Rossellini and Roland Fuda,” he said, motioning with his arm. “Gabriella is our vice-president of marketing and Roland is our chief financial officer. They’ll be joining us.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” Ava said. “Now let me introduce our team. May Ling Wong and Amanda Yee are my partners in the Three Sisters investment company. Chi-Tze Song is part of the management team, with Gillian Po, in Shanghai. And I guess I don’t have to tell you that this is Clark.”
Gabriella and Roland stood and walked towards them. After a round of handshakes, they returned to their seats at the head of the table.
“You can sit on either side,” Pandolfo said.
As the PÖ group settled in, Clark asked, “Is Mr. Ventola going to be joining us?”
“Eventually,” Pandolfo said. “He had a meeting he couldn’t cancel, but he should be here in an hour or so.”
“Would anyone like coffee, tea, water?” Roland asked. When no one answered affirmatively, he said, “Then I think we can get started.”
“We thought it would provide a useful frame of reference for you if we took a few minutes to detail how VLG is structured and how it operates,” Pandolfo said.
Gabriella dimmed the lights and started a PowerPoint presentation that detailed in depth the history of VLG. She traced the company’s growth by market, by region, by product category, and by acquisition over the past thirty years. There was so much information it was almost numbing. Ava glanced at Clark more than once to see how he was coping. To her surprise, he seemed intensely interested.
After more than half an hour, Gabriella paused. “Does anyone have questions before I turn over the floor to Roland?” she asked.