Page 13 of Giovanna
I step forward putting myself between Francesca and her piece of shit uncle. “I presume you’ve caught up with the news of Dad’s retirement. So listen up. We will not tolerate the bullshit our father did. I suggest you get your ass outta here before I run out of reluctance to create a scene.” My voice is low, but I spit each word with as much venom as I can muster.
He sneers. “Throwing your weight around already. Don’t forget that you’re only backroom, girly. Elio is the one in the hot seat. Now excuse me; I want to catch up with my niece.”
“Show some fuckin’ respect.” Matty growls. His quiet anger is often more menacing than the more explosive rage of others. His chocolate brown eyes blacken and his cheeks hollow slightly as his jaw clenches.
Francesca remains silent. A picture of disdain and poise. Only her eyes betray the burning hatred she feels. Her strength and beauty hits me in the gut like a tonne of bricks and trickles of guilt drip through me for all the less-than-sisterly thoughts I’m having about her.
Wryly I think back to Bible studies at the Catholic school Dad sent us to.Thou shalt not covet his brother’s wife.Whoops. But hey, that’s the least of my problems. According to the Bible, I’m well and truly already going to burn in hell.
A large tanned hand slaps down on David’s shoulder. It is a heavy whack and it unsettles him. Never one to be found far from trouble when it’s brewing, Elio has joined our little gathering.
He leans down and speaks over David’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Okay, so just when we think our brother is a complete lost cause, we are reminded that he is actually on our side.
Francesca is surprised and she visibly softens. She too is backtracking a bit on her earlier assessment of Elio, it seems.
David seethes, blotchy redness ascends his neck and settles in his cheeks. The power he wielded for decades under my father’s protection is all but gone and the next generation is more than willing to prosecute historic crimes.
“Last chance, sexpest,” a droplet of my spit hits his face as I step into his space. “Leave now or be removed.” David flinches and his hand moves as if to wipe his face, but he resists the urge and remains ramrod straight with a hideous sneer directed at us all.
“I’m sure we’ll catch up later, Francesca,” he leaves the threat hanging in the air as he slinks away. Matty and Massimo follow him to make sure he is off the property entirely.
A single tear rolls down Francesca’s cheek and her voice quivers. “Thank you,” she looks at Elio and me and then with a weak smile adds, “I’m fine, honestly. It’s just nice to have people stand up for me.”
As much as I want to stay and be the one to support her, I gently pat her back and assure her it is no problem at all before leaving her with Elio. He needs to build a relationship with her. He should be her hero.
Chapter Seven
Francesca
Elio and I are barely alone for a minute after the Marino siblings boot David out of the party before he makes an excuse and hurries off to return to his harem. It seems he can’t get away from me fast enough.
Awkwardly busying myself with inspecting my entirely unremarkable prosecco flute to avoid feeling like people are observing my aloneness, I am jolted out of my thoughts when a lean man with a sharp nose and cold, dark eyes slides in front of me.
“Congratulations Francesca,” his voice is polished and clipped. “You are happy about your engagement, I assume?”
What a strange thing to ask. Arranged marriages such as this aren’t uncommon in mafia families, but even so, asking so bluntly is quite rude.
“Excuse me?” my eyes narrow as I run through my mental catalogue trying to figure out where I know him from.
He’s tall. Not as tall as the Marino brothers, but he must be about 6-foot. He is incredibly lean which makes him look taller. Like a professional cyclist, he is sinewy, lanky, and a bit gaunt. With his slicked-back hair, he looks like a villain from old movies.
It isn’t until I realise he reminds me of my emotionless father that I recognise him as my older half-brother. “Oh, Stefan…hi.”
He has aged more rapidly than time has passed and now looks much more like our father than when he was younger. At least a decade has passed since I saw him last and he is now middle-aged.
Our relationship, if you can call it that, has historically consisted of both of us happening to attend a handful of events when I was young and I haven’t seen him at all since well before I was sent away. He was twenty when I was born; a year older than my mother. We just aren’t siblings like the Marinos are.
“Gidday sis,” he smiles broadly with his teeth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Long time no see. Can’t believe you’re all grown up. Getting married even!”
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I shift my weight from foot to foot, unsure what to say. How does one make small talk with their brother when he is a complete stranger?
“I wish Allegra and the kids were here to see you too, but our youngest, Toby, has a tummy bug. He and Alex would have loved to meet their Auntie Francesca.”
Shellshocked by the intensity of Stefan’s familial chitchat, I remain silent. Has Stefan simply matured and decided he wants to have a relationship with me now I’m back? Or like everyone else in our corrupt family, does he have an agenda I’m yet to discover?
“I know we haven’t had much of a chance to have a relationship, Francesca, but I’m your big brother and I am here for you. I hope you’re not being pushed into anything you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with?”