N° 01
The Fresco Suite
Beneath a ceiling painted in 1781 and woken from two centuries of soot, the bed faces east so the first light finds you slowly. A marble hearth, a writing desk, and silence that money rarely buys.
Boutique Hotel · Established under a full moon
No two are alike. Original ceilings restored by hand, beds dressed in linen milled in Tuscany, and a hush you can feel the moment the door closes behind you.
N° 01
Beneath a ceiling painted in 1781 and woken from two centuries of soot, the bed faces east so the first light finds you slowly. A marble hearth, a writing desk, and silence that money rarely buys.
N° 07
A single block of black onyx, lit only by candle, where the veins of the stone seem to move with the water. Draw the bath, dim the room, and let the city forget your name for an hour.
Dinner here is not a service; it is a slow conversation with the season. There is no fixed menu — only what the markets surrendered that morning, coaxed over fire and finished by candle. Seven courses, perhaps eight, paced to the length of a good night. You will not be hurried, and you will not want to be.
Élise MarchettiChef de Cuisine · One Michelin Star
Carved two floors beneath the street, where the city falls quiet, the bath house keeps the temperature of a held breath. Steam, cold plunge, and the long slow heat of the caldarium — drawn from materials chosen for the way they feel against skin, not the way they photograph.
N° 01 — Above
A negroni as the city lights come up, sixty feet over a street that never looks up.
N° 02 — Below
Eleven hundred labels in a vault that predates the building above it. Taste by candlelight.
N° 03 — Within
A fountain that has run for two hundred years, and a single fig tree that drops fruit each September.
N° 04 — Inside
A fire, a digestif, and four thousand books no one will ask you to put back.
Drag to wander
Twenty-two suites. One table seating at a time. We keep things small on purpose. Tell us when you'd like to disappear, and we will keep the night ready.
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