When Margherita woke up, a ferocious game of beach volleyball was unfolding: Giuliano and Sam against Luca and Lorenzo. Gemma was reading her book and Graziana sunned herself.
Margherita scrambled for her beach bag and put on sunglasses, so that she could ogle at the players discretely while she re-applied sunscreen. Chiara was pretending to read a novel beside her.
Marghe asked, "Are you ogling?"
"You bet." Chiara had not turned a page in fifteen minutes.
They were all fit, but Giuliano's physique was impressive. Two tattoos marked his chest, right under the pecs: two black, bleeding cuts. A black tattoo in the shape of flowers and thorns circled around his bicep, and some small writing followed the line of his inguinal fold, disappearing into his trunks; Chiara was dying to know what it said.
Margherita's gaze was immediately drawn to Re, tall and strong, lean, his muscles toned and defined but not bulging like Giuliano's.
Giuliano's muscles were impressive, his biceps bulky, abs sculpted. He definitely lifted weighs. Sam was toned and slender, his olive skin getting darker. Lorenzo was not muscular at all, but overall graceful, his long limbs merciless against the ball.
All four of them were excellent players, but Luca was a beast. He'd been in top shape after the morning with Margherita and conquering some of his terror of water. Hope was an intoxicating drug.
However, when Re noticed Margherita lathering on sunscreen, he took a ball to the face. Lorenzo, who'd tossed the ball to him because it was Luca's turn to serve, laughed. "Earth to Re: you with us?"
Luca ignored him and called to the girls. "Why don't you play, too? Two per side?"
Chiara jumped up, ready for the challenge. Gemma didn't even hear, absorbed in her reading. Graziana waved Re away.
Margherita said, "Let me get my scrunchy." She rummaged in her beach bag with no luck.
"Pescatore, here!" Lorenzo took the scrunchy he'd been wearing around his wrist since the previous night and explained to Luca, "She left it on the beach, last night."
"Last night?" Luca asked, taken aback.
"Yea, I couldn't sleep and she randomly strolled by. We had quite the heart to heart."
Pain marred Luca's features. "Lollo..."
"Huh?
"Are you two...?"
"What?"
"No, never mind." Re found he'd rather not know.
Lorenzo knew exactly what Luca had meant, but he'd feigned ignorance because he didn't want to admit that nothing had happened.
Margherita walked up to them and seized the scrunchy. "Thank you!"
The game resumed but Luca was distracted. A heart to heart? Why hadn't Margherita mentioned it? Maybe it had been irrelevant. However, she had talked about a connection with Lorenzo, a connection that—unlike theirs, apparently—was a good thing.
"Re, you alright?" Lorenzo asked. The ball had fallen right at Luca's feet.
"Just hot."
Graziana beamed. "Agreed, let's go for a dip!"
They all went, except for Luca. Margherita watched him walk back inside the house in a daze, then joined the rest of the gang in the water.
The sun set at six, so they all gathered for happy hour on the roof terrace. It was comfortably warm, but a fire burned in the brazier. Sam and Giuliano whispered to each other in the hot tub, eyes on a phone, faces serious. Occasionally they glanced at Lorenzo.
Eventually Lorenzo exhaled, theatrically rolling his eyes. "Guys, I know, okay? Ludo and I still talk."
Some gossip blog had posted pictures of Ludovica with her new boyfriend, some up-and-coming young politician in L.A.
Lorenzo added, "She was already seeing him last year." That would have been before Ludovica's summer stay.
"What?" Marghe blurted.
Lorenzo scoffed. "She was seeing him when I was there, too; she's never been one for monogamy."
His words from last night made more sense now. Lorenzo had always been the side hustle, the kid she'd loved and couldn't say no to, but not her man.
"I'm all for open relationships," Giuliano stated.
"Ditto," Gemma added, entering the hot tub and sitting in Giuliano's lap.
Giu nodded. "I don't understand monogamy. How can one person give you everything you need?"
Luca sipped red wine. "I don't think your partner has to give you what you need. A partner is there to share what you have."
Margherita liked that, but Giuliano frowned. "What's the difference?"
"To each their own!" Sam cheered, and they all raised their glasses, even Lorenzo, though with a bit of a delay.
Dinner was a feast. Afterwards, Lorenzo pulled out a guitar, and they sang all the classics around a bonfire, like any Italian would do in pretty much any situation.
By two in the morning, Graziana had fallen asleep in Sam's arms, Lorenzo had gone for a walk, and Chiara was conspiring with Giuliano in hurried whispers and chuckles. Gemma and Re were facing off in a brutal poker game.
However, Re had been observing Margherita closely. She'd been watching Lorenzo, concerned for his wellbeing. Luca was also saddened by Lollo's grief, but he thought it was for the best that Ludo had finally cut the cord; she'd been stringing him along for years, and it was clear that the two hadn't been peers in the relationship. However, Re was also insane with jealousy.
On the previous night, he'd had a nightmare. Trapped in a glass jar, he beat on invisible walls. People outside the jar pointed at him, sent him kisses and swooned, but no one helped him or heard his screams.
Then Margherita, frantic, on the other side of the glass, her fists matching his—until Lorenzo had tapped on her shoulder, distracting her from Re. He'd woken up soaked in sweat.
At the present moment, Margherita stood up and strolled toward the beach, right where Lorenzo had disappeared maybe an hour earlier. Re did not make a sound, trapped in a glass jar of his own making, but in his thoughts he was screaming at the top of his lungs.
Lollo was in the same spot as the previous night.
He saw Margherita right away and said, as if he'd been expecting her. "Pescatore, I'm okay. Leave me alone and go back to Luca."
He'd resented how at ease they'd seemed with each other that morning. Luca could have anyone, and always had first dibs on everything. Could Lorenzo keep at least Margherita to himself?
His eyes were glossy. Margherita dismissed his hot-and-cold number, which she'd learned to see through.
She said, "I'm sorry it didn't work out with Ludo."
He stood up to face her. "Are you, though?" He caressed her cheek, hoping she'd also be a little happy that he was single. "Because I'm not." However, a tear was rolling down his face.
To his surprise, Margherita's eyes filled with tears, too. She grabbed the front of his t-shirt, looking down at her own hands."Stop lying to yourself. It will take time, but I hope you will be happy again."
Lorenzo thought that with her, he might want to try. He lifted her chin. "Why do you care so much?"
A tear rolled down her face, too. "I'm not sure. Isn't it normal?"
Lorenzo didn't think so. In his experience, people acted out of self-interest and personal gain. He did not want to see this girl, who was such a ray of sunshine, cry, even less so because of him.
He wanted her. He put his hands around her face, and they locked eyes. Margherita felt his closeness as natural, comforting even, despite a sense of disbelief; the boy she'd had a crush on for over a year would certainly not have feelings for her.
As to confirm her fears, Lorenzo said, "Why didn't I fall for you instead?"
She deflated, relaxing further. At least he was honest.
Margherita was about to step away from him, when he closed the distance between them and kissed her.
Shock became Margherita. Electrified, confused, startled: Lorenzo's lips on hers were unexpected and nothing like Luca's. Safe, secure in Lorenzo's arms, she relaxed: no confusion, no unsettlement, no turmoil, just the soothing whisper of the waves, water gently seeping through the sand to return whole again.
Luca watched the scene unfold from a few meters away, a blot of darkness in the night, fists tight, a hole punched through his heart.
He'd been an idiot. The writing had been on the wall. Margherita had liked Lorenzo all along, she'd rejected Luca on many occasions—and yes, she might have let Luca kiss her, though reluctantly, but obviously his feelings were unrequited.
The great king was broken, unlovable, as he'd always known, and a loser, which he wasn't allowed to be.
Lollo pulled back from Margherita. He had not planned to kiss her nor to like kissing her so much. "You're so real in my arms, so grounding. You might be the first real thing in my life. If I let you go, will you disappear?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Margherita answered, dazed.
Re's steps, crunching on the sand, startled them. The sight of Re—his face a mask of pain and fury—gutted Margherita, though she wasn't sure why. She hadn't been officially dating either of them, so why did she feel guilty?
Re trembled, betrayal all over him. "Is this what you wanted, Lollo?"
Lorenzo dropped his hands from Margherita's face. "Right now, yes."
Luca howled and punched him in the face, sending him sprawling on the surf.
Lorenzo wiped his bloody lip, scowling, but did not retort, and Re didn't push the fight further. He looked at Margherita instead.
Margherita's emotions spun out of control. Mostly, she was terrified of Re's violent, impulsive side, the side she'd been denying existed, and yet, there it was, rearing its ugly head, again. Then, guilt, and behind that, more fear: that Re might not see her the same way, that she might lose him. How selfish!
Yet, Re said nothing. He turned on his heels and walked away.
Margherita called after him, "Re, wait! Listen!"
She had no plan on what to say but, even after his outburst, couldn't stand him leaving like this.
Re stopped but did not turn. "What's left to say?" His tone was sad and measured, but pain choked his mind like ivy. "I bared my soul to you, damn it. I guess I got my answer."
"No, wait." Margherita reached out for him and skimmed his arm with her fingers. It was more complicated than that. How could he not see that?
"Don't touch me!" Re yelled, losing his countenance for a second.
How had he been so deluded? The president had told him all his life that feelings were a weakness, a disease that needed culling. Unfortunately, stubborn as he was, he'd had to learn the lesson the hard way.
Margherita flinched, because his tone had regressed to the icy impassiveness of when she'd first met him; she'd lost him.
His back to her, Re added, "This is it. The end. Everything I ever said to you, felt for you, I take it back. I take it all back. Don't ever talk to me again. You're nothing to me." He melted into the night in fast, long strides.
Margherita was crushed. How had she let this happen? Margherita the honest, the strong? Every kindness Re had done for her, his genuine, intense feelings, the irresistible attraction between them—all gone.
Yes, he'd scared her, and he'd done some terrible things, too. If that had been enough for her not to want to date him, she should have said so. Why hadn't she been able to? Re had believed in her. Lorenzo's half-hearted commitment was no match for Re's fierce loyalty, but Margherita had made her choice, though in the worst possible way.
Lorenzo brushed himself off. "If he can get over his feelings for you that quickly, then it's no big deal, right?"
Margherita nodded, maudlin, wondering if Lorenzo was right. Why had the king liked her so much to begin with? Maybe he'd been deluding himself; Margherita had been a whim. Maybe this was all for the best. It was the dickhead's fault that he could not fathom half measures or compromises.
"Are you okay?" She asked, as Lorenzo massaged his jaw, gingerly.
Lorenzo nodded. "He loves me too much to really punch me."
Slim consolation. Would Lorenzo have taken notice of her if not for Re? Lorenzo who didn't love her—he'd told her as much—at least not yet.
Lorenzo put a hand on her shoulder, his lip swelling. "He just needs to cool his head."
They walked back to the house, but Luca was nowhere to be found.
Luca roamed for a while. He returned to the house some time later, emotions screaming inside. No way he'd sleep. He rubbed his eyes, wide awake in his bed. He could not exist in this reality where Margherita loved someone else, least of all his best friend. Most definitely he wouldn't be there to watch it.
Maybe he could leave, study abroad for a while.
Rejection burned him alive; everything hurt, clashed, yearned. His own eyes had seen them kissing. The cursed scene was stamped on his brain like a bruise, replaying in his head until nausea overwhelmed him.
Maybe he'd drunk too much, which happened rarely since he had to worry about public image. The more he thought he might be sick, the more saliva pooled into his mouth. He rushed to the bathroom and vomited dinner but didn't feel better.
The stuff he'd truly needed to expunge—his deluded, juvenile feelings for Pescatore—would not stop clinging to his very soul, clawing at him from the inside out. It was almost five in the morning. He packed hastily and woke the butler to take him to the airport.
When Margherita finally fell asleep, she dreamed again that she was dancing with Lorenzo on Luca's yacht. Lorenzo kissed her—cool, composed—but then he turned into Luca and all hell broke loose as Margherita lost herself into the kiss, Luca's lips on her neck.
She woke up, gasping, around ten. Everyone else was stirring, too.
The butler informed them that the signorotto had been called back to Milan urgently, due to some family business.
Lorenzo and Margherita exchanged a skeptical glance.
Lorenzo declared, "I kissed Pescatore. Re saw us."
Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Why?! Dude! You know how much—"
Lorenzo shrugged. "I like her, okay?" Redness colored his cheeks and not because of the sun.
Margherita's breath choked her. Lorenzo liked her? His words on the beach had made it clear that he was not in love with her, yet. However, most people took time to fall in love. Re's rash, irrational, passion was as flattering as surreal. Margherita liked Lorenzo, too; she always had. Hope stirred within her. Oh, Re! Where the fuck was he?
All these thoughts and feelings whirled through her head, heat creeping up her neck, in the second it took Giuliano to frown.
He said, "What matters here is what Pescatore wants. She's not some gold nugget to be claimed, you guys."
Chiara's crush for Giuliano burned a little hotter.
All eyes turned to Margherita. She was shaking and glossy eyed. She was not about to discuss her irrational, supreme attraction to Re, nor liking Lorenzo, with the crew.
"I have no idea." She was genuine. Everyone waited patiently, so she elaborated, "I'm not sure how it works for rich people, but us peasants, we date; we get to know each other to see if it's a good fit, then we decide how we feel."
"No shit, " Chiara said biting into some tropical fruit she'd never seen before. It was star shaped and a little sour.
Re would have killed Margherita for such a lukewarm statement.
Instead, Lorenzo asked, "Let's go on a date?"
Margherita had no time to ponder, since Gemma interjected, "On a different note, I'm guessing the king took the jet."
Sam tapped his phone. "No biggie. I'll get us tickets. First class, of course."
Unconcerned about the tickets, Giuliano was quite worried about Re. The king had been head over heels, for the first time, and he'd never been denied anything in his life—except love. Giuliano stepped away to make a private phone call.
Margherita was shaken. Had Lorenzo been serious about liking her, about wanting to date? Because she would have loved to do that.
She couldn't stop thinking about Re, probably out of guilt. Things were going exactly the way she'd hoped from the very beginning. Yet, how would she ever look Re in the eye again? He was Lorenzo's best friend.
"You're trembling," Lorenzo said, studying her intense reaction to Re's hasty departure.
"Oh! I must be chilly." She lied. The Egyptian morning was sweltering.
He took her hand. "Don't worry. I'm here. We'll figure this out."
She melted a little. Could she trust him? She wanted to. His words stirred hope and a bit of relief. Yet, tears streamed down her face. She'd never see Re's grin again. He would never forgive her.
Lorenzo's hand was cool and soothing, nothing like Re's pervasive—and sometimes scalding—warmth.
This was the hand she'd chosen.
Margherita looked up at Lorenzo, grateful, and smiled.
The End of Volume One!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Story continues on "Worth It" the second and potentially final installment in this series. (We'll see, it might be a trilogy by the time I'm done!). I realized that breaking the story here allows me to make the first book open to everyone (as opposed to mature readers only).
Follow me to receive notifications about future chapter releases! I'm planning to start releasing next week 😊 Star this chapter if you liked it; it means a lot to me 🥰
How will the relationship between Margherita and Lorenzo go? What will Re do? Will Chiara act on her crush for Giuliano? What will Sam do? Who did Giuliano call? What about Mauro and Laura?
This and more in "Worth It." Warning: Get ready for some sizzles! "Worth it" is for mature readers only. If/when intimacy occurs, I will not fade to black 🥵 See you next week 😘