Giovanna

Giovanna Marino Famiglia Book One VICTORIA ARROW This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2023 Victoria Arrow All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Amazon and the Amazon logo are trademarks of Amazon.com Inc. Digital ISBN: 978-0-473-67747-3 Paperback ISBN: 978-0-473-67745-9 Cover Design: germancreative DEDICATION For my love, SSP. My inspiration, my sanity, and the best person I know. PLAYLIST GAY 4 ME by G Flip and Lauren Sanderson Supalonely by Benee Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol Holy Water by Noah Davis Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood she calls me daddy by KING MALA Just Like A Prayer by Madonna Alejandro by Lady Gaga Why’d you only call me when you’re high? by Arctic Monkeys Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls TRIGGER WARNINGS The Marino Famiglia Series is dark mafia romance. Naturally, the books contain a fair amount of sex and violence. Please be aware of this before you start reading. Everyone has their own limits. Specific trigger warnings for Giovanna: sexual assault (historic and talked about but not described), torture, explicit sex scenes (1 MF and multiple FF), profanity, general violence and death. If you have experienced sexual assault and need support here are a few resources. I couldn’t list services for all countries, but I am sure the below online options could refer you to your local help centre. Australia: 1800RESPECT (1800 737 732) | 1800respect.org.au United States: RAINN 1 (800) 656-4673 | rainn.org United Kingdom: Rape Crisis 0808 500 2222 | 247sexualabusesupport.org.uk Canada: Salal National Toll-free: 1-877-392-7583 | wavaw.ca/get-support New Zealand: Freephone 0800 044 334 or text 4334 | Email [email protected] Contents Prologue – Sandy Chapter 1 – Giovanna Chapter 2 – Francesca Chapter 3 – Francesca Chapter 4 – Francesca Chapter 5 – Giovanna Chapter 6 – Giovanna Chapter 7 – Francesca Chapter 8 – Francesca Chapter 9 – Francesca Chapter 10 – Giovanna Chapter 11 – Giovanna Chapter 12 – Giovanna Chapter 13 – Francesca Chapter 14 – Francesca Chapter 15 – Giovanna Chapter 16 – Giovanna Chapter 17 – Francesca Chapter 18 – Francesca Chapter 19 – Francesca Chapter 20 – Giovanna Chapter 21 – Francesca Chapter 22 – Giovanna Chapter 23 – Giovanna Chapter 24 – Francesca Chapter 25 – Sandy Chapter 26 – Francesca Chapter 27 – Francesca Chapter 28 – Giovanna Chapter 29 – Francesca Chapter 30 – Giovanna Chapter 31 – Giovanna Chapter 32 – Francesca Chapter 33 – Giovanna Chapter 34 – Giovanna Chapter 35 – Giovanna Chapter 36 – Francesca Chapter 37 – Francesca Chapter 38 – Giovanna Chapter 39 – Francesca Chapter 40 – Francesca Chapter 41 – Giovanna Chapter 42 – Francesca Chapter 43 – Giovanna Chapter 44 – Francesca Chapter 45 – Sandy Chapter 46 – Francesca Chapter 47 – Giovanna Chapter 48 – Francesca Chapter 49 – Giovanna Chapter 50 – Francesca Chapter 51 – Giovanna Chapter 52 – Francesca Chapter 53 – Francesca Chapter 54 – Francesca Chapter 55 – Francesca Chapter 56 – Francesca Chapter 57 – Giovanna Chapter 58 – Giovanna Chapter 59 – Francesca Chapter 60 – Giovanna Chapter 61 – Sandy Chapter 62 – Francesca Chapter 63 – Francesca Epilogue – Giovanna Acknowledgements About the Author Prologue Sandy The door to my office swings open and I lift my head from my hands snatching my discarded reading glasses from the stack of papers in front of me, shoving them up my crooked nose. My bones creak like the unoiled hinges of doors long shut and I am weary. “Ah, it’s just you,” I relax immediately at the sight of my oldest friend striding towards my desk. If age is catching up with his body as quickly as it is with mine, it doesn’t show. He’s the same sinewy, rigid man I’ve always known. His shadowed and gaunt face a mask seven decades in the making. He’s wound up tight as an elastic band stretched to its extreme, poised to snap at any moment like the protruding tendons in his neck. It is no small miracle that the cold and calculating old fuck is still hovering around and not six feet under having suffered a stress-induced heart attack. Or with a bullet in his brain. If he was shot we would have a mammoth task figuring out which of his many foes pulled the trigger. He’s a scheming arsehole, but he’s a scheming arsehole who is yet to let me down in the 60-something years we’ve known each other. There isn’t an important moment in my life he hasn’t been part of; from our first day of school to leaving Italy together as young men. He is the godfather to my children and me to his. We’ve laughed and cried together. We’ve built a dynasty and now its survival depends on the next generation. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week, mate,” Paul Rossi could never be accused of blowing smoke up anyone’s arse, even mine. I can always rely on him to give it to me straight, even if it isn’t flattering. He is perhaps the only person brave enough to openly criticise me these days. When loyalty is the most valuable currency, almost anything else can be excused. “Fuckin’ dog’s breakfast, mate. Bikies are getting their hands on some serious hardware. Not a good look for us when guns are going off on every street corner.” “Bet it’s the bloody Arabs. They’re opening up new channels all over the shop.” Rossi hates the Arabs and would blame them for a hair in his dinner, but in this case, he is probably right. Once upon a time we had a monopoly on the importation/exportation business