A maid woke up Margherita early, on time to go to school. She enjoyed a luxurious breakfast, but Re was not in sight. When she asked, the maid told her he'd left early to take care of some business.
The maid added, "He looked very angry, Miss."
Margherita had a bad feeling. She rushed to school, which wasn't hard to do in a car with a driver, more so since the Vincitores' mansion was close by.
She got out the car in front of the gate, where Re had Mauro pinned against the wall.
Giuliano was talking to Re in a level tone, "Put Arcani down, Re; you should not be within a hundred meters from him, let alone harm him."
Margherita hollered, "Put him down, now!"
Re let Mauro slide down the wall so that his feet touched the ground again. "Tell her."
Mauro averted his gaze, terrified.
"Tell me what?" Asked Margherita, her stomach dropping as if in a broken elevator.
Students watched from a safe distance, but they knew better than to post anything compromising about Re on social.
"The pictures..." Mauro squeezed out.
Margherita's sense of betrayal was all encompassing. Tears welled in her eyes.
"No, Marghe, no!" Mauro rushed to explain. "I didn't spread them around. Someone stole them from my computer!"
Margherita frowned, confused.
Laura, who'd been amidst the students watching, stepped back and raised her hands. "Hey, this dumbass left his computer unattended in the library. It was my moral duty to tell the king this ho had been playing him."
Re, immune to Laura's impeccable makeup and miles of legs, incinerated her with his yellow eyes.
She recoiled and shut up.
Mauro yelled, "They're fake, Beltagna, they're deep fakes, damn you!"
Laura's surprise registered in the exaggerate arch of her brows. Mauro moved his eyeballs to Margherita, who was trembling, as if each breath carried the weight of unspoken pain.
"I am so sorry," he added.
Re growled, "You know what I think about apologies."
Laura crossed her arms over her chest and spat at Mauro, "Creep."
Mauro yelled. "I fucking love her, okay!? The pictures were supposed to remain private. Beltagna, tell me you wouldn't want a picture of Re looking at you like that."
Laura said nothing, mouth agape, caught in a moment of breathless disbelief; she would have, and Mauro was the first person to show any understanding of her feelings. His despair resonated deeply with her loneliness; kindred, rotten souls.
Re let him go, empathizing with emotions he despised.
Margherita lowered her head and stalked to her classroom.
Mauro, tears in his eyes, yelled at Re, "Was that really necessary? You just wanted me out of the way, didn't you?"
Re ignored him. Arcani's name in the mud was much better than Margherita's. If Arcani had been decent, he would have come clean right away.
"Everyone," Re addressed the little crowd that always seemed to gravitate around him, but more so when drama was unfolding. "From now on, red cards are no more, and if I catch who faked the last one, they're dead. Go spread the word."
Giuliano patted his shoulder. "I'm impressed, man."
Mauro did not believe Re's claim of a fake red card for a second. He adjusted his coat and clothes and would have run after Margherita, if Laura Beltagna hadn't caught his sleeve.
"What now?" He barked at her. However, Laura's eyes were downcast, emotional. Her hand lingered on his coat. Mauro added, "Beltagna, cut the crap, I don't believe your contrite act for one second."
She shook her head. "I'm not...what?"
"Contrite, remorseful," he explained, curtly.
"Oh, I'm not. Under the same circumstances, I'd do it again, as would you; I understand. I really understand what it is to have your body and soul owned by someone who doesn't care and doesn't even see you. I see you."
Now, that touched him. "You called me a creep."
She stuck her tongue out. "Yes, what you did was nasty, but also a bit of a turn on, honestly. I thought you were such a dud."
Mauro was amused at that. "It's slightly insulting that you find my darkest side alluring. It makes me feel evil."
"Aren't we all a little evil? I mean, we're human, right? And don't get me started on Pescatore..."
"Beltagna, what do you want? I have to go fix this."
She was still clinging to him, and Mauro was not entirely invulnerable to her beauty. Laura was slightly taller than Margherita, but still shorter than Mauro. Her features were flawless, blue eyes in a doll face, lip gloss impeccable, nails shiny in a French manicure.
She said, "I have a proposal for you, but not here. Meet me at the library, after class?"
Her behavior did not bode well. Beltagna was as bad as Vincitore, wealthy and spoiled, and he should not trust her, but right now he just wanted to run after Margherita. So he nodded once, and she let go of his sleeve.
Mauro caught up to Margherita in the hallway. "Marghe, wait! I'm so sorry! Marghe! I never meant for the pictures to be seen."
He ran in front of her and stopped her, hands on her arms, which she promptly shook off.
He added, "Listen, I understand if you don't feel the same way. You saved my life, literally. You've been my only friend in this sea of frollops. Your friendship means more to me than I care to explain. Will you please forgive me? I just want us to be friends like before."
Deep down, Margherita had known that Mauro had a crush on her. She'd conveniently eluded his passes, because his friendship had meant so much that she'd been terrified that a rejection might mean losing him.
At least everything was out in the open now. Mauro would move on, and one day they'd laugh about the time he had a crush on her and made deep fakes of a lovestruck Margherita in his arms.
Margherita exhaled. "Cake. A big one. Home made—by you. With chocolate and caramel. Decorated with pleads of forgiveness. Do we have a deal?"
Mauro nodded, eyes softening with emotion, reflecting a depth of feeling within. He fucking loved her so damn much.
Now he had to deal with Laura Beltagna...
After classes, Mauro walked into the deserted library. The shelves, dusty and forgotten, were a book mausoleum or, if Mauro had been in a better mood, a museum of old tomes.
Laura was not on the couches or at the tables. Mauro hesitated with a hand on the strap of his backpack, slung across his back.
Laura didn't want to be spotted with Mauro. So, she'd been waiting for him, hiding between the shelves. When she saw him, she seized a corner of his sweater and pulled him toward her, revealing a sliver of skin.
She teased, "Do you work out?" His abs were surprisingly toned.
Mauro looked down at her and his exposed skin. "Thanks for noticing, I guess?"
He followed her, reluctantly, to the darkest section of the library, where shelves curved onto each other in sections and subsections in a maze of superfluousness.
"Is this when and where you kill me?" He whispered in a neutral tone that was rather humorous.
Laura shuddered, laughing nervously. "Of course not."
She was not reassuring.
Having reached a dead end in the Italian philology section, she stopped and turned, way too close. Mauro stepped back, intrigued by the new development. For the past year, he'd felt like a sidekick. Now, for once, something was happening to him, though he had no doubt it still revolved somehow around Re and Margherita.
"So..." Laura said, oddly self-conscious.
What could someone so beautiful be self-conscious about? All she had to do was get her head on straight and like someone who was not Luca Vincitore.
"So," Mauro repeated, amused. He loved the advantage of his position. She wanted something from him and, for once, he had nothing to lose.
She finally revealed, "I've been in love with Re since grade school."
"That's pathetic."
She flinched. "Your crush on Pescatore looks pretty pathetic now, too."
"Make your point," he replied, curtly.
Laura tugged at a chestnut wave, seeking the right words. "I think we're both hopelessly in love. I don't think I'll ever love anyone else; it has to be Luca."
"I pity you, but I feel you."
She nodded. "Exactly, Arcani, and you're not bad to look at." Mauro blushed visibly. "You're just a bit of a dork. I'm sixteen, and I'm lonely. Let's date; we'll never fall in love, but maybe we can keep each other, um, company, and make Margherita and Luca jealous. Maybe they'll learn not to take us for granted."
Mauro scoffed. "You're crazy."
"Am I?" Laura looked up at Mauro's hazel eyes, his wild blond hair. He did not believe her. Laura put her hands on his chest, and he stumbled backward against a shelf.
Her blue eyes held so much emotion: sorrow, anger, frustration, hope.
Mauro's heart raced. He'd kissed girls before (and one boy, too, though he had not liked it). The girl in second grade probably shouldn't count, but he'd had a girlfriend for two months in middle school, and a couple of summer girlfriends in high school. He'd made out with two of them, and reached second base with one.
None of them had pursued him first.
Mauro's heart raced, unsure about what kind of trap this may be, and also honestly, horny AF, because Laura smelled like cake and looked better, and whatever she was about to do, she was really close—too close to him. Her button down shirt was unfastened so that he could see her cleavage and the lace promise of very expensive, white lingerie.
Laura's hand reached for the back of his head, his blond hair soft between her fingers. Her gesture sent a shiver down his spine and he subconsciously closed his eyes. Then, everything happened at once; her breasts were pushing against his chest and her lips were on his, soft and sticky with gloss, fragrant of grapefruit.
He opened his eyes, motionless, frozen.
Laura said, her lips still close to his, "Just pretend I'm her."
Then she closed her eyes and cajoled him into kissing, first skimming lips, then with her tongue against his mouth.
It was not a conscious decision. Mauro stepped forward, pushing her against the opposite shelf. The book at the end fell. He imagined Margherita in his arms and kissed Laura with all of his might, with the frustration of one year of pining, his erection pressing against Laura's skirt. When his hand pressed against her breast, Laura moaned; she was not flat-chested Margherita.
He pulled back, breathing hard. "This is a terrible idea."
Laura was also panting. "I've had worse," she said.
She'd never kissed anyone, and she had imagined the experience very much like the first few seconds of what had happened with Mauro: lips touching. What had happened after had been far beyond her wildest dreams, and her body buzzed with the discovery.
Mauro stepped back, confused and a bit scared. Laura's hands dropped from his chest. "Tell her that I'm into you."
After that kiss, it would not have been as big of a lie as it would have been only hours earlier.
His thoughts in a jumble, Mauro hurried out of the library.
That night, Mauro baked a cake for the first time in his life; it was ugly and burnt at the edges, but it was chocolate with a caramel filling, and he inscribed on the top the following haiku:
"Forgive this dumb ass
though he may not deserve it
friendship always wins"
His brother's irregular gait announced his arrival into the kitchen as Mauro was finishing the last line, all squished to make it fit.
Carlo said, "I sure hope you're in love, because if this is your start as a bakery chef, you have a long way to go."
"Shut up, Carlo."
"What did you do?"
"Re told Margherita that the deep fakes came from my computer."
Carlo's dark eyebrows shot all the way at the top of his forehead. "How did he figure that out?"
Mauro shrugged. "Probably by spending a lot of money."
Carlo said, "I hope it tastes better than it looks, bud. I'm surprised she hasn't fallen into your arms yet with Vincitore red carding her again."
"How do you know about that?"
Carlo shrugged. "The grapevine, man."
Mauro rolled his eyes. "It kind of back fired...Also, Mom swore by this recipe."
By the time he was done, it was almost ten. Margherita's shift at Happy Pizza ended at ten thirty, so he rushed to the subway with the cake in a plastic bag.
That night, the grumpy old man had wanted lasagna, devouring it as if he hadn't eaten in days. Margherita's stomach growled. Marco put an enormous serving in front of her, too. "On the house."
Moved, Marghe dug in; it was the best lasagna she'd ever had; layers of home made pasta, crinkly at the edge were it had crisped in the oven, soft in the middle where the parmesan cheese melded with the besciamella and meat sauce.
The old man left without paying, as usual. Happy Pizza was ready to close.
"Delivery!" Mauro called in a jolly tone, as he entered the pizzeria.
Marco lifted his head from the counter he was cleaning. "Better be beer from a lover," he teased, recognizing Margherita's friend.
Margherita and Chiara came out from the back and within minutes all four of them were sitting at the counter, staring at the cake.
Marco asked, looking at the inscription, "Do I want to know?"
The other three shook their heads, and Mauro felt awful that Chiara had learned of his misdeeds. He supposed it had been inevitable.
The ugly cake tasted delicious, and Margherita had two servings. Mauro helped clean up and walked with Margherita to the subway.
"So," he ventured as soon as they were alone. "Something happened today that you will never guess."
"You made out with Re."
Mauro barked laughter once. "Eerily close."
Margherita turned to him wide-eyed. Mauro told her the whole story. He had not decided if he was going to tell Margherita that Laura was into him or that, in her wicked mind, it was all a ploy to make Margherita and Luca jealous, but the latter, after the kiss they'd exchanged, didn't ring quite true either.
He'd felt Laura's attraction to him, and was excited and intoxicated by it, more so after a year of rejections. So he told Margherita the truest version he was capable of.
"I think she just meant to make Luca jealous, but when she kissed me, I don't know...she seemed into it."
The train arrived and they climbed on board.
Margherita said, "Why wouldn't she be? I mean, there are hundreds of students at this school, yet she chose you to make Re jealous, and our popularity hasn't exactly been stellar...she must like you, no?"
"You think?"
Margherita mussed his hair. "Of course! What is there not to like?"
"You tell me." His answer was more bitter than he'd intended.
"Oh, Mauro! It's not a rational thing, right? But more importantly, did you, well, like it?"
Mauro blushed. "It did not suck."
"You're a terrible liar." Margherita smirked. "Maybe you can make her less evil."
She would have leaned her head against his shoulder but caught herself. Boundaries were essential, mixed signals unhelpful. Selfishly, she hoped Mauro would fall for Laura, or anyone else, so that she could have him back as her friend without the boundaries.
Mauro was mostly confused but also a little pleased with himself. An Insta notification pushed through; it was Laura, sending her phone number.
He'd never call her—possibly, likely—but he saved her number just in case.
Spring arrived mid-March in a flurry of thunderstorms. The blue sky, marred by patches of dark clouds, showed the Alps in the distance, amongst blooming fruit trees and forsythia in the foreground. Margherita had been at Vincitore Academy for a year.
She was excited to be alive, as much as she had no idea what she would answer to Re's confession. She was on the roof of the main building with the P2, the very same roof Mauro had fallen from. Apparently, it was one of Re's favorite spots, or it had been before Mauro's accident. The king had liked to come up here and watch the city and the Alps, particularly at sunset.
Re waved smoke away from himself. "Sam, gross."
Sam rolled his eyes but put the cigarette out. Luca put an arm around Margherita's shoulders. Margherita did not protest but was clearly flustered, self-conscious about his arm around her and unsure about her feelings.
Re said, "Listen, I cannot take back that bike accident."
"I know."
"But we'll find out who faked the red card and targeted you." Margherita nodded. "Does that make you feel a bit better?"
She met his gaze, bashful, and nodded.
Giuliano cleared his throat. "Um, guys, it feels like there's this glitch in your programming, where you just get stuck staring at each other..."
Sam pressed, "Yea, what's been going on behind our backs?"
The door to the roof creaked open, and Lorenzo stepped on the roof. "Yo, I'm back."
"Lollo!?" Giuliano exclaimed, but Lorenzo looked straight at Margherita when he said, "It's been a while."
Author's note: WHAT?! Lorenzo's back! Margherita will have to make some choices...Four chapters left till the end on first novel in the Vincitore Academy series. Star if you liked the chapter 🥰 See you next week!