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 infuriatingly entitled boys.
Yet, privi...
Margherita left the mansion and leaned against a wall as soon as she considered herself outside of camera range. What the hell had just happened? She exhaled loudly, tension and guilt draining out of her.
She could have squeezed the idiot for money to bring home, but wouldn't that money be tainted? Yet, every month, her family struggled to make ends meet. Milan was a very expensive city. The rent for the dry cleaner shop alone was outrageous, on top of their tiny apartment out in Sesto San Giovanni. Was she being too proud?
"What are you doing here?" Lorenzo startled her from a white Harley Davidson.
Evasive, she turned the same question to him.
He answered, "I basically live here. Should Luca be worried that you're lurking around his house?" The gate to the mansion opened, unbidden.
She glared "Why don't you ask him?" Lorenzo shrugged amused, but Margherita didn't want him to leave quite yet. "Wait?" He turned, but she had no idea what to say. "Um, is there anything money can't buy?"
Lorenzo's eyes grew sadder than usual. "Happiness."
"Spoken like a rich boy."
He grinned. "You really are funny."
She melted on the spot. That was another thing that money couldn't buy: a crush.
She bid him goodbye.
As she walked down the street, pulling up the map on her phone to find the subway, she considered that if money couldn't buy happiness, she might as well keep the few assets she had going for herself, namely, dignity and integrity.
The dick head could keep his money. She put on her headphones and played an angry tune by Mommy Long Legs that expressed her feelings to perfection.
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When not pranked, Margherita had gotten used to being invisible at school. Yet, a blanket of stares awaited her when she stepped inside her classroom. The incessant whispers died as everyone watched her settle in at her tagged desk, pulling her books out.
"What?" She barked.
A few averted their eyes.
Then she saw the colorful writing on the blackboard. "Pescatore is a slut...and gives the best blowjobs!"
She bolted into the hallway, aiming for the P2 lounge; this time Re had gone too far, and in such poor taste! Oddly, she ran into the P2 in the hallway. They rarely showed before ten.
She faced Re full-on, her face splotchy with ire. "You know nothing of my blowjobs, Dick Head! Hell, I know nothing of blowjobs at all! How dare you?!"
She pushed him and ran back to her classroom, revenge on the brain. He would pay—he would pay so hard.
Samuele Bellocchio, the player of the P2, puffed some smooth black hair out of his striking gray eyes. He leaned casually over Luca's shoulder. "What the hell was that about?"
