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...
Throughout her classes, Margherita could only think about Re's words. She couldn't wait to swim, when her thoughts would find order, one stroke after the other, lap after lap.
To her surprise, by the time she got there, the entire pool had been filled with flowers: sunflowers, daisies (her namesake flower), and her new favorites, which turned out to be miracle daisies, which had petals arranged in a spiral.
Luca had written on the sign-in sheet, "Before you get mad; I took the cash out of my party allowance. These flowers will keep me healthier (less partying), and hopefully, will make you happier. I'll arrange for some grunt to take them to a resting home in a couple days." There was no signature, just a little crown.
Margherita changed and dove in, floating for a while among the flowers. Good thing she wasn't allergic. She chuckled. The pool smelled amazing, and she relaxed.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Luca's words played back in her head. The first time Re had admitted that he liked Margherita, hell, that he was in love with her, it had been ten months earlier, after her bike fall, when he'd helped her with her scrapes and bruises, when he'd given her that soul melting kiss—their last.
At the time she'd thought she liked Lorenzo. Indeed, she had liked Lollo, in a way appropriate for a sixteen year old. Lorenzo was handsome, quiet, mysterious. He'd helped her. It had been a stupid crush she thought would go nowhere. And when it had gone somewhere, she'd found herself swept away in the possibility, trampling all over Re's feelings because her own feelings for Re were, quite honestly, terrifying.
Re himself was terrifying.
She had behaved selfishly, and for nothing. Lollo's cool composure was refreshing, but Margherita was not attracted to him. She definitely understood the difference now. Her date with Lorenzo had been boring and awkward; they'd barely exchanged a word. Since then, they'd become excellent friends, but Margherita could not imagine getting physical with Lorenzo. Now she knew you can admire somebody's good looks while not having chemistry with them; it was the same with Mauro.
Re, on the other hand, even after her mistake, had risked his own life for a slim chance to save Margherita from her own stupidity; who walks up a mountain at night with zero experience, no tools nor appropriate gear, without checking the weather? In many ways she'd been so much more immature than the king.
"He's gone all out, huh?"
Margherita splashed to a standing position. Lorenzo was leaning against the wall, admiring the scene.
He added, "I might have taken a picture or two. I'll share them later." He peeled himself off the wall and sat on his lounge chair. "I heard he made quite a scene earlier today. Hopefully word won't get to his mother..." Margherita was still standing amidst the flowers, speechless. "May I ask, why don't you give him a chance, like you did with me?"
