Married to the mafia King

The Valentino boutique was in the Piazza della Signoria, the square outside the Palace Vecchio the town hall of Florence for the last 700 years, and the site of one of Florence’s most famous museums.

The square was also home to some of the most expensive clothing boutiques in all of Florence. Across from Valentino was Chanel… and on the other side of the plaza were stores for both Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana.

I looked in their windows like a little child at Christmastime

But I couldn’t contain my excitement, so I hurried into Valentino.

For me, it was like entering a cathedral.

My whole life and all my dreams centered around fashion…

And this was one of the most important places in all of Italy.

The walls were grey marble flecked with white, the better to showcase the stunning colors. There was a section for purses, and shoes, and everyday streetwear

But what made me catch my breath was the dresses.

On the walls were pictures of past designs by Valentino, worn by some of the most famous supermodels in the history of fashion. Elle MacPherson, Claudia Schiffer, Naomi Campbell, Gisele Bundchen, Iman, Linda Evangelista…

And the actresses and singers! Penelope Cruz, Scarlett Johansson, Anne Hathaway, Miley Cyrus, Sienna Miller, Jennifer Garner, Kim Cattrall back in her Sex and the City heyday…

I was suddenly eight years old again.

Back then, I’d believed the most I could hope for was to create my own designs.

But my family was so poor, and I felt like such an ugly duckling…

That I never thought I could actually BE one of those women in other designers’ beautiful dresses.

But tonight…

I would be.

A chic saleswoman presented the dresses one by one.

I doubt she would have normally given the time of day to a girl in a thrift-store outfit…

But she took one look at Adriano’s Hugo Boss suit and knew what was up.

There was one particular dress she showed me that was stunning

But as soon as I saw the price tag, my eyes bugged out. “Oh no.”This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“You like that one,” Adriano said. “I can see it on your face.”

“It’s fine ”

Adriano spun me around to look at him. “What’s the problem?”

I whispered, “It’s 14, 000 euros.”

“So?”

I stared at him. “…so?!”

“Go try it on.”

“No ”

“GO… TRY… IT ON.”

That voice.

Warmth rippled through my body.

“…okay…” I murmured, and the saleswoman led me to the changing rooms.

Five minutes later, I walked out shyly.

When Adriano turned and saw me, he stared.

“Madonn,” he murmured.

He liked it.

I liked it, too.

It was gorgeous. The flowing lines, the cut of the bodice, the spaghetti straps, the folds of the fabric…

And it shimmered like red fire under the lights.

“That’s the one,” Adriano said to the saleswoman.

I wanted it

I wanted it more than anything else I’d ever wanted in my entire life, besides him…

But the price…

“Adriano,” I protested

“I’m not just buying it for you,” he said as he looked deep into my eyes. “I’m buying it for me, too… because I like looking at you wearing it.”

“…yeah?”

“You’re a goddess,” he whispered, and kissed me softly.

I smiled so big it hurt my face.

Adriano looked at the saleswoman. “We need the alterations for tonight. 7 PM.”

“Of course I’ll have our seamstress start immediately.”

“It fits really well just the way it is,” I said shyly, not wanting everybody to make a big fuss over little ol’ me.

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “But might as well have it fit perfectly.”

“We’ll need to see how tall you are in heels,” the saleswoman said. “Do you have a pair you’re planning to wear?”

“No.”

“Then I have just the thing.”

I told her my shoe size and she walked out of the room. A minute later, she brought back a pair of heels in the exact same shade of red as the dress.

They were beautiful… stiletto heels with tiny metal studs on the straps…

A bit of punk sensibility to go with the classical lines of the dress.

And they fit perfectly.

“I love them,” I gushed.

“Good!” the saleswoman said. “Now we can plan accordingly.”

“But how much are they?” I asked worriedly.

Before she could answer, Adriano warned her, “Not a word.”

She closed her mouth and smiled.

Adriano looked at me. “You deserve them. That’s all you need to know.”

I kissed him deeply… and then disappeared into the back so the seamstress could work her magic.

Next we went to a men’s shop. It was a strange little place, down a back alleyway and far from the glitzy shops of the Piazza della Signoria. A black awning hung over the entrance, and a brass plaque next to the door displayed the shop’s name: Guillardo’s.

When we went inside, the room smelled amazing at least to me.

In design school, I spent my days around bolts of cloth. Before it’s first washed, the finest quality material has distinct scents: the slight tang of wool… the earthy smell of linen… the clean crispness of cotton.

The air in this shop was layered with beautiful smells, like a fresco painted on a breeze.

A short, older man with thinning hair and a bushy black mustache bowed slightly as soon as we entered.

“Signore,” he said, using the older term ‘master’ or ‘lord’ instead of Signor, which was ‘mister.’ Then he bowed to me. “Signorina.”

“Guillardo,” Adriano said. It was apparent they knew each other.

“What will you be needing?”

“A tuxedo.”

I looked at Adriano.

“What?” he said. “I can’t let you be the only one who’s well-dressed.”

“Your previous one displeases you?” the short man asked with a frown.

“Not at all. But I need a lot more… cloth in this one.”

“I see. Of the best material.”

“The absolute best.”

The conversation was weird

Why would you need more cloth in your tuxedo?

But I forgot about it as they continued talking.

“The only thing is, I need it for this evening,” Adriano said.

“That will be triple the cost.”

“No problem.”

“I have your measurements on file. Nothing has changed?” he asked, patting his own little belly as though to ask, Have you gained any weight?

Having seen Adriano’s washboard abs, I could attest there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat around his middle at all.

“No,” Adriano replied.

“Then I’ll start right away.”

“Good. See you at 6 PM.”

“Ciao, Signore.” The tailor bowed again to me. “Signorina.”

We walked out of the shop into the alleyway.

A few minutes later, I had forgotten all about their conversation.