Page 4 of Giovanna

Matty and I both snort at the same time knowing full well that our brother hasn’t had a girlfriend over the age or BMI of 25 in a long time.

The irony isn’t lost on Dad either. “She is 24, Elio. Practically geriatric by your standards.”

“Wait, what about David?” I suddenly have the thought that Francesca probably doesn’t want to come home. Shame leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as I think about how she was just sent away. It took me years to get her some kind of justice, but David is still drawing breath and that just isn’t right.

Dad ignores my question and sends me a look that screams ‘Shut the fuck up, Giovanna’ and like the good daughter I am, I let it slide.

Elio is quiet, but he is thinking so hard we can almost hear the cogs turning. Matty and I watch knowing there is little sense in getting involved. Dad will get his way, Elio just needs room to protest and tantrum first.

I weigh up my own irritation at the situation in the meantime. Having just announced that tomorrow he will hand over the running of theFamigliaand our business interests to us, it is dawning on me that there is a whole lot of shit going down that we have no idea about.

Has he got a wife he is going to spring on me next? He knows better than to try giving me a husband. Am I sitting here bemused at my brother’s misfortune yet to discover that I’m next? No, thank you.

I haven’t been in a proper relationship for a few years now. More than a few years. They’re hard to maintain in our line of work. Aussie women just don’t get our life and putting time and effort into integrating them is futile because they inevitably eventually decide they don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who regularly comes home in the middle of the night covered in blood.

The easiest thing would be to date within the widerFamiglia, but it isn’t exactly swimming with single lesbians.

Online dating is a no-go too. What the fuck would I write in a Tinder bio?

Giovanna, 38

Mafia Underboss

When I’m not breaking the law and/or fingers, I enjoy working out, good whiskey, and eating pussy.

Maybe Ishouldlet Dad find me a wife. At least I’d get laid regularly. Well, in theory.

Elio is pleading with our bemused father now. “Why do I need to get married anyway? We aren’t in the 1950s.”

Another snort slips out and I nearly choke on my own spit. “Reminding you that despite being the eldest Marino child I can’t outright succeed Dad because I’m female…”

Dad sighs and leans back in his chair, cleaning his glasses. “You are getting married because you need to be taken seriously and running around shagging anything in a skirt isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

“To be fair though, Dad,” Matty speaks up for the first time. “Being married isn’t going to put a stop to that behaviour. Elio can’t even spell monogamy.”

“Get fucked. I’m the only one in this family who got a fuckin’ education,” Elio snarls at him.

“Well, you aren’t exactly acting like a screaming endorsement for university education, son,” Dad exhales. “Look, all of you. This isn’t a joke. You all know that Stefan Rossi isn’t getting under our feet because he misses his dad. He’s here to destabilise knowing that I’m going to step down soon. The grumbles I’m hearing are that Elio will be a playboy prince and cause instability. Marrying Francesca Rossi gives you, Elio, the chance to put that all in the past.”

“What bearing does who I fuck have on my ability to lead theFamiglia?” Elio tries to snap, but he is tiring of the conversation.

“If you need me to explain to you the importance of managing perceptions at this point, I have failed as a father to prepare you for this role.”

“It’s just bullshit. You trying to tell me that the bosses back in Italy aren’t swimming in pussy?”

“Enough!” Dad raises his voice and as if he has brought down a gavel, we all know the conversation is over.

“You two, out!” He points to my brothers. “Gio, we need to discuss some practicalities.”

Matty gives my shoulder another squeeze on his way past while Elio’s slamming and swearing can be heard as makes his way through the house. He will be at the bottom of a bottle with a model’s lips around his cock before Dad and I are done with our conversation.

Chapter Two

Francesca

12 Years Old

Sunblock melts down my face and I cough and splutter as a wave of water hits me. Blinking, I push wet hair from my eyes.

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