On Saturday, Re staked out Lorenzo's villa, unable to just sit with his rotten feelings. The one date Re had forced upon Margherita, in November, pretty much tricking her into it, had been a disaster.
Finally, around one, Lorenzo left for his stupid date. However, Luca didn't follow him. He hadn't had a definite plan but certainly didn't want to see the lovebirds together. His imagination was already doing an excellent job of portraying what a good time they'd have. Even the weather had been cooperating for their get-together. The April sun was warm and bright.
Margherita would not be three hours late, and Lorenzo would not be sick, nor they would get stuck in a subway station during a blackout.
They would probably hold hands.
Kiss.
Fall in love, like normal people did.
Crushed, he loitered the sidewalk, lost in his thoughts, losing all sense of time, but unable to leave.
Margherita loved exiting the subway at the Duomo on a sunny day; the marble cathedral seemed like a cutout against the blue sky.
Lorenzo was already waiting, somewhat hidden behind sunglasses and an uncharacteristic baseball hat. Still, quite a few people stole glances his way, phones at hand, if not recognizing him, surely identifying the unmistakable aura of fame and money.
Margherita beamed. "Hey, you cut your hair!"
Lorenzo caressed the short fuzz at the back of his head. He'd left it long on top, similarly to Sam. "It was getting out of hand. Cute outfit."
"Thanks!" She twirled in her gray jeans miniskirt with leggings and a white hoodie. "This style suits you; you look great!"
He blushed, looking away. "Thanks."
"Can I touch it?"
He nodded, taken aback by how comfortable she was around him. He leaned forward; she smelled like vanilla. When she rubbed the back of his head, he shivered, thoughts immediately ripening with desire. He hadn't been with anyone since Ludo, on the previous summer, except for making out with people he had not cared about. The experience had been strange and a turn off.
"Too cute!" Margherita enjoyed the tickle of the soft fuzz between her fingers, thinking about Re's ridiculous curls—wait, she would not think about the king today.
"So what do you want to do?" She asked.
"No clue. Any idea?"
"Ha. Not really," she replied, perplexed.
They stood awkwardly for a minute, then started walking, following along Via Torino. Lorenzo was fascinated by the stores Margherita paid attention to: not the designer brands but the tourist traps, the cheap imports.
She squeed by a window, enamored with a keychain that sported a bug-eyed frog in a lifesaver. Tacky.
"That's adorable!" She blurted.
He would never understand women. "I'll get it for you."
She stepped away. "Oh, no, I don't really need it. It's just cute."
Lorenzo had never needed anything, which had not prevented him from buying whatever seemed remotely interesting. Often enough, he gave away clothes with the tags still on.
Also, the key chain was five euros. The last time he'd window shopped with Ludo, in L.A., he'd run a bill for a few thousands—probably; he hadn't checked.
"I'll get it anyway. Hold on."
Margherita was beyond herself with joy.
When Lorenzo returned with the little keychain, she hooked it to her key ring. "Thank you!"
He shrugged, amused. "It's just a key chain."
Wow, apparently he didn't get the significance of his first gift on their first date.
Suddenly, the Saturn necklace around her neck weighed a ton.
Damn! Why was she still wearing it?
Re's Valentine gift seemed most inappropriate, now. Saturn was Re's favorite planet—showy like him. Yet, that had not been the reason for his preference.
He'd told Margherita that she was the planet and Re the ring around it; without her he was just a sea of ice and garbage—only Margherita's gravitational pull kept him together, made him into something better, beautiful even.
Margherita snapped out of it. She should remove it as soon as she got home and return it to Re, somehow.
Ugh. How?
She did not look forward to that, and not only because she'd loved the necklace so much.
They walked and walked, mostly in silence. Margherita was a little bored. She had no idea what to talk about. A beautiful old building caught her eye.
"So charming!" She exclaimed. "The light—"
Yet, Lorenzo didn't hear her nor stop. Hands in his pockets, lost in his own thoughts, he paid Margherita no attention at all.
She felt invisible, when Re had seen her very soul. Or had he?
She considered that the fight with Re must have been much harder on Lorenzo than on her; Luca had been Lorenzo's best friend since childhood.
Margherita was losing her wind, gloomier by the minute. Lorenzo's quiet and cool presence, which had been a reprieve from Re's fiery intensity, was now making her tense.
How long would it take for her not to think about Re anymore? It felt like an unhealthy addiction. He'd been mostly annoying her to hell and back, anyway. She fingered the Saturn pendant around her neck, which had become a grounding habit.
"Lorenzo, do you still think about Ludo?"
"All the time." After a pause, he added, "Can we not talk about her?"
"Of course. Sorry!" They had dated for two years.
"Not a big deal. Honestly, this is my first time on an actual date. I've always gone around with those three or Ludo. I'm sorry if I'm boring. They were my only friends...and they're kind of gone, now."
Ouch.
They were now walking by the Colonne di San Lorenzo, Saint Laurent's columns, the ancient Roman ruins named after Lollo's eponymous saint, which was a popular hangout spot among teenagers. Gaggles of teens smoked, chatted, or made out in small groups, tanning in the sun, sitting on the huge marble pedestals.
Margherita said, "You'll make up with Re, don't you think? Also, you could make new friends in no time, if you wanted to."
"Doubtful."
Margherita frowned.
Lorenzo explained, "See, when people want to make friends with you, it's because they like you. With us, people know our names and net worth before anything else, and...well, you've seen for yourself, growing up like we did, there's not much else to like, beside that."
"Lorenzo, that's not true! You're so kind and thoughtful. Re's so passionate and generous and funny—"
"Let's not talk about him either."
"Sorry."
"And Marghe, call me 'Lollo.' 'Lorenzo' sounds so formal."
"Oh—of course...Lollo."
The nickname was a mouthful, like a ball of gum too big to chew."Lollo" had been Ludo's nickname for him, but he didn't flinch when he heard it. Focused on his absent reaction, Margherita walked straight into a light pole, bonking her forehead—classic Margherita. She hissed and winced. Though painful, it would have been funny, but Lollo didn't notice, devoured by his own shyness and unease.
Margherita caught up to Lorenzo—Lollo—rubbing her forehead.
He asked, "I'm parched. Want a snack?"
She agreed, though reluctantly, and they stepped into a fancy cafe. When she had tried to explain to Re why her feelings leaned toward Lorenzo, she had mentioned that she couldn't even breathe around Re and that she felt an emotional connection with Lorenzo. Where was that emotional connection, now?
"What would you like?" he asked.
Margherita hoped he'd pay, because she had ten euros on her. To play it safe, she ordered ginger tea, the cheapest item on the menu, while he ordered a double hot chocolate with whipped cream and a croissant.
Fortunately, he put forth his credit card with no question.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo had never been this nervous before. He could not think straight. Margherita was a million kilometers away, and he had no idea how to bring her back to him. He was an introvert and sucked at conversing. What had happened, on the beach, that had made her kiss him back?
They sat at a posh little table. When Margherita touched her forehead, gingerly, for the third time, he asked,"What's wrong?"
She chuckled. "Oh, nothing much: a little accident while we were walking."
"Oh."
He did not inquire further; she'd share if she wanted to.
Margherita exhaled. Why had Lollo asked her out? Re would have called her stupid and given her hell, then probably he would have removed the street sign with his bare hands and offered her his arm, which she would have refused with some clever comeback.
She recalled walking under Re's arm on their sham-of-a-date, supporting him because he'd been feverish, how she had not been able to breathe so close to him, how she'd started to notice his feelings and pretended not to see them, mostly because she could not believe them.
Had she done the same to her own feelings? Did she like that bullish dick? No way.
Regardless, she didn't buy that Re had taken it all back. Or was she hoping he hadn't?
"Margherita?" The tea steamed, untouched, in front of her. Lollo was halfway through his order, studying her. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry, just daydreaming." Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. "I'll be right back."
She went to the bathroom to hide. Why was this happening? Why did she keep thinking about Re? Everything had moved so fast. Because of the friendship between Lorenzo and Re, because of their clout, everything was such a big deal, and she was not ready to commit.
Luca's kisses had melted her down to her core, and Lorenzo asking her out had made her so happy, but did she actually know either of them? Lost in thought, she moved away from the door, against which she'd been resting her back, to the toilet. Might as well pee since she was here.
Lorenzo had shared some of his thoughts on the beach in Sharm, and honestly he'd seemed in no place to date either, still regurgitating the broken pieces of his failed relationship with Ludo. He'd said he'd wished he'd fallen for a girl like Marghe, which meant he hadn't, yet. His honesty, however, his despair, had created that fragile connection between them and she'd kissed him back. Yet, the dregs of his feelings for Ludovica were no substitute for the feelings he didn't have for Margherita.
Lorenzo liked her, and she liked him, but not unabashedly and passionately as Luca had (or had claimed to). And why in the world would Luca Vincitore like Margherita in the first place? Their universes were incompatible.
The bathroom door jiggled, calling her back to reality.
She called, "One minute!"
Yet, the door opened, and Lorenzo stared at her.
On the toilet.
"You should lock the door," he stated, calmly.
"Get out!" She yelled.
He did.
At the same time, after landing in Malpensa, Francesca picked up a Maserati rental and stormed the mansion. Luca, who still refused to pick up the phone, wasn't home, but the butler reassured her that he'd been cantankerous but not missing.
Next, Francesca went to the academy, where her happiest and scariest memories had once coalesced into a life that, even at twenty-five, she still had no control over.
Luca was not at the P2 lounge either. Sam and Giuliano greeted her with open arms, bringing her up to speed about Lorenzo's date with Margherita, underway, and Luca's stubborn unresponsiveness.
All three worried.
After a satisfying, very late, Italian breakfast with cappuccino and brioche at the P2 lounge—more like a late lunch—Francesca strolled the deserted academy's grounds and hallways, reminiscing, and hoping for her brother to turn up.
Melancholic, she sat on her favorite swing, in the middle-school garden, which was part of the academy complex, reading a Murakami novel about falling in love with a ghost. Her first, memorable kiss had happened in the very same location, many years ago, speaking of star-crossed love...
This was be the most mortifying moment of Margherita's life. How would she face Lorenzo again?! Yet, the longer she stayed in the bathroom, the worse it would be coming out. She washed her hands and exited in a tizzy.
He was waiting for her with her tea in a to-go cup, unruffled.
"Did the tea not sit well with you?" He offered her the cup, still full.
Margherita was mortified. Had he not noticed that the tea was untouched? "I was just peeing, thank you so much!"
Everyone inside the cafe turned to peek curiously at her.
Unexpectedly, Lorenzo burst out laughing and opened the door for her. "You're so damn funny! I like you even more."
He meant it. Margherita, authentic and warm, had no frills.
She looked up at him, heart racing, but this was not love. Was it? This was a budding friendship. Lorenzo had been kind to her, and he was handsome. He'd felt like an oasis in the hell of the academy. The idealized version of him—mysterious, forlorn—which Margherita had built in her head, had given her a reason to wake up in the mornings. Yet, Re had called her on her selfishness; what about the real Lorenzo? The person with limits, fears, needs, and emotions?
Lorenzo resumed walking, and Margherita followed. The Navigli neighborhood, with its romantic canals and hip stores, came into view, but all Margherita could think about was her disastrous date-ish with Re, which had also occurred here. Feverish, he hadn't been able to ride his motorbike back home, in the downpour.
As Margherita had helped him down to the subway, the rain had swollen into a raging thunderstorm. The city had lost power, and they'd been stuck in the subway station in the dark...and yet, it had been memorable.
"We walked so much," Lorenzo said. "I'm a bit exhausted. Wanna go back to my place? I can call us a car."
They had walked barely a few kilometers and...back to his place? That sounded like a bold move.
"To do...what, exactly?" She asked, her mouth dry.
Lorenzo blushed. "Um, watch a movie? Rest a bit?"
Lorenzo wanted privacy and for his anxiety to go away. He also very much wanted for Margherita to act lovestruck again. Making out would be the best way to get over Ludo. Even better if he and Margherita had sex. He'd liked kissing her.
Margherita, perplexed, shrugged but agreed to go back to Lorenzo's. She'd been at Re's place plenty of times (though under different circumstances), and Lorenzo felt much safer.
She said, "No need to call a car." Margherita hated the P2's private cars and the grunts that drove them. "The subway's right there. Do you also live by the green line?"
Lorenzo nodded, ignoring the implicit reference to Luca, who also lived by the green line. "Yes, by the park." Of course, it was an extremely expensive neighborhood. He added, "Taking the subway would be fun. I've never done it. Is it safe?"
These brats. "Um, yea. Keep your wallet in a zippered pocket and be self aware."
Lorenzo was thrilled that Margherita was so fierce.
Suddenly, Margherita remembered Re hiding something he'd done, while feverish, by the subway bench, right before the power had gone out.
She led Lorenzo down into the station and showed him how to buy tickets at the machine. He was giddy with the experience. She walked to the very same bench where she'd sat with Re. Boy, did she miss that dickhead. She sat where he'd been, and Lorenzo, oblivious, took the spot beside her.
Margherita could have explained to him train frequency, signs, or how the line terminus at the top of the train informed passengers about the route the train took. Instead, she leaned down and looked at the wall, where in black permanent marker the dickhead had scribbled,
Vincitore ❤️ Pescatore
First night together
She all but burst out laughing at Re's temporary idiocy.
"What's funny?" Lorenzo asked.
"Nothing. The train's here."
Re had roamed aimlessly in the nearby Parco Sempione, but not for long. He'd wanted to know how long Lorenzo would be out with Margherita. An hour after Lollo's departure, he'd sat in a cafe with a good view of his best friend's stately front door.
The wait was unbearable; what was the point of torturing himself? She'd made her choice. A song by Jawny screamed through his earbuds that he was better off alone. Could he believe it?
However broken, his heart still beat with all of its jagged pieces, and he still wanted Margherita Pescatore. Leaving would be healthier. In fact, maybe he should go abroad for a semester, like he'd first considered on that horrific morning in Sharm. He would get perspective, meet some new people. No way Pescatore was the only woman he could be attracted to.
A woman approached him with a shy smile. "Are you...? Is it possible that..?"
"No," he answered, setting off a tiny ice age inside the cafe. He hated being recognized. She apologized, mortified, and left.
Two hours trickled by. Maybe he'd missed Lorenzo? Possibly Margherita had ditched him right away. Maybe, she had stood him up. Ha! Maybe, while Re had been walking through the park, Lorenzo had returned to his villa in tatters and was now licking his wounds in his bedroom.
These hypothetical scenarios heartened him as time passed.
It had been three hours by the time Lorenzo came back—with Pescatore.
In a trance, Re watched them enter his building, Lorenzo holding the door for her, gallant and shy but eager as Luca hadn't seen him—ever.
Re felt like an Icelandic winter night without the northern lights. He put his forehead to the tabletop and covered it with his arms.
He needed out; either they left, or he would have to.
Sometimes love is what drives you to draw the next breath.
Other times it's revenge.
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! Star the chapter if you liked it 🥰 I loved writing about Lorenzo in this chapter. I firmly believe that we all need to read characters that are relatable and, as you will see, I'm hoping, chapter by chapter, to unravel the perfect facades of these hunks to show how human they truly are. It's so easy to get down by looking at social media; everybody else looks so perfect...but in reality, we're all struggling with our own limitations and personal situations. Funny enough, in the end, our vulnerabilities are what makes us special 🤔 💪 See you next week!