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...
Nestled in the pine forest of the Retiche Alps, a few kilometers from Bormio, the Vincitore's chalet was straight out of an architecture magazine: a whitewashed A-frame with wooden balconies and huge windows that faced the mountains.
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Laura, in tight, white, snow pants, a cashmere hat, and an iridescent puffer jacket, ran into the house ahead of Margherita, making a show of highlighting how many times she'd been here before.
"Just like old times!" She chirped, grasping Mauro's hand; he'd been glaring at Re since the day of the king's return.
Stefania, Laura's bitter best friend, trailed behind them, wary, her huge doe eyes deceiving. Her long blond hair shone in the sun.
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Margherita shook off the snow from her combat boots, so that the bottom of her jeans wouldn't get too wet.
Abundant snow sparkled on the sunny mountain, and the group hit the slopes right away, since they were conveniently accessible from the chalet. Season passes ("A thousand euros each!" As Chiara whispered after checking on the internet) were available to all guests. Only Lorenzo stayed back at the chalet, preferring his music over any sport, but particularly over those that required him to freeze his ass.
Mauro, Laura, and Stefania took off on skis, hellbent to see the view from the top of the mountain. Sam and Giuliano brought Margherita and Chiara, the rookies, on the bunny slope to learn snowboarding.
Re would have loved to teach Margherita to snowboard, but they hadn't even been on speaking terms when he'd left, and now he had no idea where to start again. Maybe she'd changed. Possibly, Re had. He opted to do tricks on the terrain park beside the bunny slope, keeping an eye on her and biding his time.
Every time Chiara fell, Sam encouraged her and comforted her, unleashing on her his whole playbook. Margherita stopped commenting, since she was starting to come off as a nagging mother-in-law, and Chiara could speak for herself.
When, in one smooth move, Sam fell in the snow, catching Chiara in his arms with her back against his chest, even Giuliano rolled his eyes.
Unexpectedly, Chiara burst out laughing. "Dude! For how long did you practice that move?"
