Page 48 of Giovanna

It doesn’t matter how much I tell myself I am objectively attractive or remind myself of the way Elio looked at my body, I feel inferior and out of place.

Elio used to host parties constantly when Massi and I were little and he hasn’t grown up and aged out of it. This kind of social situation will be my reality. I’ll be expected to take part and turn the other cheek to his interactions with other women. I see an image of myself pregnant, waddling around all of the models and socialites with a fake smile plastered on my face. I see Elio’s look of disgust as he takes in my huge belly and leads a ten-out-of-ten stunner out of the room to find somewhere private.

Here and now, I’m already negotiating with myself as to what is an acceptable amount of time schmoozing before I can excuse myself.

Elio has all but ignored me since the beginning of the party. I watch him sitting on a sofa outside. He’s handed a small silver tray and lowers his head to quickly snort two lines of white powder. It is then passed on to the posse surrounding him.

His arm is around a woman I recognise because she is the face of an ad campaign for some zero-sugar vodka RTD. Her face is on the back of buses and constantly on my social media feeds. She’s gorgeous, obviously.

If Elio was flirting equally with his posse of women it would be easier to stomach. But he is wrapped up in Ms. Vodka Premix and the feelings of humiliation overwhelm me again. Part of me wants to go over and cause a scene because why-fucking-not at this point? But, that would give the impression that I actually want him.

Looking away, I spot a familiar burly body topped with scruffy red hair. I can’t help but smile at the red Budgie Smugglers he’s wearing. Most of the men are in above-the-knee boardshorts, but that is so not on brand for Bluey.

Seeing me smile, Bluey wanders over, beer in hand. I don’t think I have ever seen a man as comfortable in his body as this bloke. And why not, I guess? He’s stacked with muscles.

“I’d ask if you’re enjoying the party, but it looks like murder is on your mind,” he leans down to drawl in my ear.

“Your boss is an absolute shitcunt, Bluey.”

“I couldn’t possibly comment, Francesca,” he remarks blandly.

“Reckon I can leave yet? Not like he’ll notice,” I enquire wistfully.

“Why would you do that when you can just have your own fun? Fuck him.”

“Listen to the man!” Sammy’s arms wrap around my waist and I squeal in delight that she has arrived. “Fuck that toerag’s noise. We are going to have fun.”

He chuckles. “She’s a wise woman. Go find us a spot outside, I’ll come find you.”

The fabric of the daybed is searingly hot under the heat of the afternoon sun. Enjoying the only just tolerable burn on my skin, I recline and observe Elio and Lady Low-Cal Booze on the other side of the pool.

Leaning back on my elbows with legs stretched out, I must look relaxed, but in reality, Sammy and I are coming up with creative ways I could murder the Adonis arsehole.

“It depends if you care about getting caught though, babe,” Sammy jokes. “Anything too bloody will be a nightmare to clean up.”

“Hmmm, I don’t think I would survive in prison…”

“Are you kidding? You’d be fine! Some butch top dog would claim you and you’d be treated like a queen.”

I laugh along with her, but that doesn’t sound too bad. I mean, if Giovanna was in prison with me I’d fight every bitch in there to be her girl.

A few men look tempted to stray over to speak to us, but they all know I’m Elio’s fiancee, whether he remembers it or not. I look down at the sparkling monstrosity on my hand and hiss.

“Girl, that thing is ridiculous,” Sammy shakes her head.

“I know.”

Bluey swaggers towards us. He takes so bloody long because every second person wants to talk to him. He is a popular guy. I assess him over the top of my oversized sunglasses. He is good looking and I like him; maybe I should see how Elio feels if I do a bit of flirting of my own.

“Hello, Princess,” Bluey presents us with fresh cocktails.

“Not you calling me princess too,” I groan.

“You’re royalty in our world and you deserve to be treated like it.” His eyes dart towards Elio and we both know his comment is dangerously close to life-threatening. He gulps and I think he instantly wants to take it back.

Bluey crawls onto the daybed between Sammy and me and pops a joint between his lips. He produces a lighter from somewhere and given he is just in his budgie smugglers I hope it wasn’t tucked in with his dick.

He sucks in, his cheeks hollowing, and holds his breath for a few seconds before exhaling the smoke through his nose.

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