Page 75 of Giovanna

“Just…don’t, Giovanna. Please?” Peta pleads, shoving a tray of butterflied lamb into the oven.

I grunt and take a big gulp of my Diet Coke. I’m smart enough to drop the matter now, but there is no way I won’t be extracting the truth from Massimo as soon as possible.

The opportunity presents itself just after dinner when all of our guests have left. Massimo finishes loading the dishwasher with Dad and dashes upstairs to his room.

He already has his gaming headset on and is sitting in front of his computer when I let myself into his room a few minutes later.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” he snaps. He doesn’t want to talk to me, I can tell that much. He’s clever enough to know that I have questions following the cryptic and highly suspect incident in the kitchen today.

“Learn to lock your door,” I respond blandly and step into his room. “What the fuck died in here, you fuckin’ animal?”

Holding my nose, I pretend to gag and look around for the source of the putrid aroma.

He glares at me, offended at the suggestion that there might be an unpleasant smell in his room. “Get. Out.”

“Nah, we need to talk,” I take a seat cautiously on his unmade bed. Who knows what could be lurking in the pile of sheets. Crusty socks, half-eaten snacks, a bloody possum, who knows.

“Don’t feel like chatting. Maybe another time.”

“Turn that thing off, Massimo. I’m not fuckin’ around,” I lower my voice menacingly and the kid knows it is time to cut the attitude.

With a flourish that is distinctly teenaged and just a little bit camp, he tosses his controller aside and rips his headset off. “What?”

“You know what. Whose food do you want to spit on?”

His eyes are suddenly very preoccupied with the carpet. Emotions are bubbling very close to the surface. He is sad, but he is also full of rage that I don’t usually see in him.

After exhaling slowly he finally looks up, but his shoulders remain hunched over as if to protect himself. “Do you seriously not know?”

A flash of irritation threatens to derail my patient attempts to cajole my youngest sibling into telling me what I want to know. Of course, I don’t bloody know. That’s why I’m asking, bloody hell.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did, Massi. Now, come on. Spit it out.”

“David. Uncle David. I want to spit in his food,” he rushes out and then returns his gaze to his floor. “Want to do more than that.”

Huh. “Can’t say he is my favourite person and he is a creep…”

Before I can complete my sentence, Massi interrupts. “He’s the reason Francesca is gone.”

“That was two years ago…” I don’t understand why this is all being dredged up now. “I’m going to need you to break this down for me.”

And with that, he starts speaking and like opening the floodgates it all comes out. “Remember that party just before she was sent to England? It was here, but you were away in Melbourne.”

I nod. I do remember. Mostly because the vibe was so off-kilter when I got back. Everyone was on edge and Francesca was gone. I had a lot of shit going on in my life at the time so I kinda just left it be and it went away.

“Heaps of people were here. Was one of the rowdier parties we’ve had at the house. And me and Ches had been watching Parks and Rec in the TV room. We weren’t drinking or anything. Just had pizza. It got late and we were sleepy, but we decided we would watch one more episode. Cheska left to go to the bathroom first…I-I must have drifted off to sleep on the sofa. When I woke up she wasn’t there. Checked my phone and I’d been knocked out for more than half an hour. I thought maybe she left me there ‘cause I was sleeping -” he continues, swallowing hard.

“I went looking for her but she was nowhere in the party so I went upstairs. I thought she might have crashed in my room or something. She wasn’t there, but when I was walking back to the stairs I saw a light was on in the spare bedroom. The one down Elio’s end. Light was like coming under the door. No one goes in there and I thought ‘That’s weird’. I went to have a look.” He stops, clearly not wanting to revisit the memory, but after a few seconds and a deep breath, he continues.

“I found her…and him,” he looks up, fury blanketing his expression. He doesn’t need to say more. I know.I know.Better than anyone else. “She was fighting him off, but he…he already had her pants off…”

Rage explodes behind my eyes and it takes everything in me to remain composed for Massimo’s sake.

Instead of seeing red, I see black. Blackness clouds in and I’m swamped by the overwhelming urge to tear the limbs off David Rossi. There is a special place in hell for men like him and I’m happy to help him get there on an express ticket.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Francesca

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