Contemporary Milan, Italy.
In the dazzling world of Vincitore Academy, Margherita, a half-Korean firebrand from humble beginnings, ignites a clash of wills with the P2, the city's elite quartet of dazzling and entitled boys.
Yet, privilege holds no...
Four hours into the flight, Luca was sipping champagne, watching some action-packed movie in which gorgeous girls that looked a million times better than Pescatore swooned over the hero and didn't need to have a therapy session about his feelings to know they'd love him forever.
His phone buzzed with a text from Lorenzo, which had come through the first-class wi-fi.
It read, "Oh, by the way, nothing happened between Pescatore and me. She didn't want me."
Luca's entire body might as well have burst into flames; he was a phoenix rising from his own ashes, a reborn hero, the king of the world. If he'd had a parachute, he would have jumped off the plane.
Except he couldn't. His brain reeled.
A second text came through. "If you really care about her, turn around right now, but I bet the company comes first, and you'll stick with your internship..."
Re had to. The news of his internship had hit the papers; if he turned around now, both media and the president would wonder why, and his unrequited crush on Pescatore would be a major scandal...for nothing.
What was the point?
Lorenzo pressed, "...If you choose the internship, I'll feel completely legitimized to do my darnedest to win over Pescatore."
Re typed back, "I will kill you."
Lollo replied, "Love you too, bro!" Followed by a winking, kissy emoji.
Re leaned back in his seat, hand heels pressed against his eyes. Lorenzo was right. What could he offer to a partner if a job he didn't have yet had priority?
This was what the president had tried to tell him; feelings are a waste of time, a liability. He understood that, now. Maybe, deep down, he always had, which was why he'd fallen for someone who didn't like him back.
Re would make the best out of his internship, forget Pescatore, and use this six months to reconnect with his estranged father. Maybe he'd even fall for someone else.
The rest was in the hands of fate.
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