Chapter 9: New Girl

Xavier's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at Alessia, asleep in his arms. He knew he shouldn't have approached her, but he couldn't resist. He had crossed a line, and now there was no turning back.

He picked up the hotel telephone, cradling Alessia gently. "Bring new clothes for a tall, model-like woman," he instructed, his voice betraying a hint of urgency. Shortly after, a concierge knocked on the door. Xavier sat in his room while the hostess helped Alessia change and cleaned up.

"Mr. Giovanni, the lady and the room have been taken care of. Do you need anything else?" the concierge asked. "Book a suite for her," Xavier demanded, scooping Alessia up and slinging her bag over his shoulder. "All suites are reserved, sir," the concierge hesitated. "Then take someone's reservation," Xavier insisted. "She's Xavier's guest."

With the concierge's help, he tucked her into bed before returning to his suite. Just as he was about to leave, her phone rang. He motioned to the hostess, and she took the call.

"Good evening, this is Concierge Lia from 36 Hotel."

"Where's Alessia?" Sofia probed, already tipsy.

"She's in a room..."

Xavier made a cross sign with his lower arm, nodding his head negative.

She's in a room alone, she booked it for the night," Lia replied, following Xavier's instructions.

"She doesn't have that much money."

Xavier flashed the ticket and nodded suggestively.

"The ticket she bought covers accommodations, ma'am. Would you like me to help you with your accommodation too?"

"No, don't bother. Just tell me the room number, I'll stay with her."

"The room number is 001."

"Okay, thanks."

"You can leave now," Xavier said.

As he lay on his bed, Xavier sighed deeply. "She's always trouble," he muttered, memories of their past flooding his mind.

The next morning, it was Sofia who woke up first. "Get up, Alessia," she whispered.

Alessia sat up with a yawn. Sofia offered her a glass of water. As she drank, a snippet of her memory from last night flashed in her mind, and she coughed, choking on her water.

"Are you okay?" Sofia rushed over, patting her back gently.

"There was a cool, effeminate guy with a nice build, and he offered me a drink. Sofia, I clung to him, kissed him, and I puked on him!" Alessia cried out.

"Nothing else happened?"

"He's gay."

"Oh. I bet he's not annoyed, judging that he put you in a suite. He lacks creativity, though," Sofia said, looking at the crumpled club tickets.

"What will I change into?" Alessia lamented, and just as she said that, they heard a knock on the door.

"Here are your clothes, ma'am."

"You were here yesterday."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What about the guy?"

"He already left."

"Thank you, that will be all." Sofia said on Alessia's behalf.

"Don't ever ask for a rich guy's information from a hotel, ever, okay?"

"Okay," Alessia muttered.

By the time Alessia arrived, the twins had left for school. As she laid on her bed to get more sleep, the scenes kept playing in her head, how he grabbed her ass, how her body felt with the kiss. It was all new to her.

"He's definitely not gay." She muttered to herself

***

Santa Maria High, Vigevano

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the three-story school building, the vibrant scent of Bougainvillea flowers filling the air. The distant sound of students chatting and the fresh smell of the ending summer added to the lively atmosphere.

The middle of the building, had more Bougainvillea, with the window of the principal's office bare. Whenever Principal Roberto looked down from his window, with his grey hair and white shirt with suspenders it always gave an eerie 'I'm watching you' vibe. Roberto was a different type of academic leader. His legacy was that education was a means to an end, but not the end itself.

Santa Maria High, under Mr. Roberto 's administration, produced the finest artists, singers, and numerous fashion icons. He was particularly fond of Matteo, who he believed was the artist the world was hungry for.

In the last class along the hallway, Miss Vittoria, the homeroom teacher, walked in.

"Good morning, ma'am," the class of 28 echoed in the cream-painted classroom.

"I'm glad to welcome you to your final year in this school. You've done well so far. I want to say that I am proud of what each of you has become and is becoming.

This is your most critical year. Tone down on your love affairs and focus on getting into a college that will give you a strong foundation for your career.

For those without a career thought yet, I'll implore you to visit the guidance and counselor office before this week ends," she said, and Lisa bit her lip where she sat as she looked away. "I wish you the best school year yet." A round of applause echoed in the room.

"Matteo Angneli, be at Principal Roberto 's office after school. Make sure you keep the class in order when I leave."

"Got that, ma'am."

Miss Vittoria smiled at him before leaving the class.

"How about a house party to start our last days in booze!" one student shouted.

Hoots and giggles filled the classroom from scattered clusters of students.

"You can discuss this after class. Mr. Theo will be here soon," Matteo interjected firmly.

"Matteo, the wet blanket, I'm sure you won't be coming this time," one student jeered.

"Well, he still has a retarded twin to babysit," another student muttered loudly.

Lisa slammed her desk, "Why don't you come say it to my face, bitch?"

"And what would you do to me?!" Greta sneered back.

Before Matteo could intervene, Lisa had crossed over to Greta, climbing over tables. Her hand locked into Greta's brown hair, and Greta did the same.

"Stop it now, both of you!" Matteo yelled.

Mr. Theo arrived, and everyone rushed to their seats.

"What's the cause of this commotion?" Mr. Theo demanded.

"Matteo was trying to stop Lisa from being a nuisance. She just attacked me from nowhere!" Greta answered, with watery eyes.

"That two-faced bitch," Lisa muttered under her breath.

"Why are you so different from your twin?" Mr. Theo asked Lisa, exasperated.

Lisa just glared at him while Matteo apologized for the disturbance.

The class day ended, and Matteo went to Mr. Roberto 's office.

"My own Picasso," Mr. Roberto called, chuckling as Matteo walked in. Matteo saw a girl seated with her head bent, exposing a jarring scar on her neck that made his heart stop.

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