Lilianna was met with a sense of déjà vu at the sight of Giovanni - dressed to perfection in another one of his navy, tailored suits - strolling into the kitchen at seven in the morning. Her gaze only met his for a second before focussing on the spotless marble worktop. The heat seeping into Liliana's palms through the porcelain mug of scalding coffee was nothing compared to Giovanni's burning gaze set intently on her.

She knew she must look like shit. Liliana had a fretful night of sleep, tossing and turning in the large bed, and she would be a liar if she said it had nothing to do with Marcello. Her nocturnal habits clearly showed just how much her marital conflicts were affecting her, and she wasn't naive enough to think Giovanni wouldn't already know what had happened between then.

"Another quick coffee with a shot of more irritating news for me this morning?" Lilliana muttered under her breath, thinking back to the first time in the kitchen when he had told her of her new babysitter. Look how well that had turned out.

Giovanni's deep chuckle filled the room. She kept her eyes down as he dropped some things onto the counter beside her and went to fix his morning coffee. Liliana froze as she eyed his things; his mobile, wallet, and a gun.

"Do you even know how to use it?"

Liliana's head snapped up, finding Giovanni stood over her with a raised brow and a faint smirk. At her silence he nodded down to the gun.

Liliana felt herself bristling. She was Valentino Fiorenza's granddaughter, and he was asking her if she knew how to use a gun?

"My aunt taught me."

His eyes widened barely, the only indication of his surprise before he took a seat opposite her, coffee in hand.

"You don't usually stay in here on a morning," Liliana said, eyes narrowed. She took a large gulp of her coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. Usually, she drank tea, but this morning she needed something with a little more kick. "This really must be some irritating news you have to tell me.

"Irritating for me," Giovanni uttered dryly.

Liliana took a sip far too quickly and through a fit of coughing, choked out, "And just what is that supposed to mean?" Her face felt hot and her eyes watered.

"Marcello has assigned me to babysit you for the day," Giovanni said, blatantly displeased at the notion of spending time with her.

Liliana wasn't at all surprised that Marcello took it upon himself to separate her from Angelo. Instead of being angry, she was relieved. At least now she didn't have to actively avoid the youngest D'Onofrio brother.

"Ah, the joy of spending the entire day trapped within this mind numbing house," Liliana breathed, a fake grin stretched tightly across her face. Giovanni glowered at her.

"Thankfully," he said, "You've been granted access outside. Marcello has put up a team he deems... qualified enough to escort you around." Liliana froze with her mug half way between the table and her mouth, staring up at her brother-in-law with disbelieving eyes.

This was not the kind of punishment she had been expecting. This wasn't a punishment at all. Did this mean he believed nothing had happened between Angelo and her?

Whatever it was that had urged Marcello to see sense, Liliana didn't care. All that mattered was she could finally have some ounce of freedom. Even if she had to be guarded the entire time. She was already used to body guards and used to the possibility of danger, but she had never had to alter her life because of it until her return to America. This sliver of normalcy was gladly accepted.

Giovanni's amusement was back ten-fold, a spark in his eyes that had Liliana on edge. She wouldn't let her guard down around him; not after what had happened with Angelo. While Angelo had been outgoing and flirtatious, something told her Giovanni was the one she had to watch, and that trusting his quiet façade would be to her detriment.

"So Principessa, where will it be?"

Liliana allowed her own smirk to curve across her mouth, more than amused when Giovanni only eyed her warily. She would be a fool not to take this opportunity to learn more about Giovanni, and the D'Onofrio's as a whole.

Marcello was sure to remain a mystery to Liliana - and he sure as hell wished to remain one with the lengths he was going to avoid her. Angelo, she wished to avoid herself. Sebastiano intimidated her like no one else could. Giovanni seemed to be the only safe avenue for intel.

"How about a walk around the city? I need to stretch my legs."

***

Liliana did her best to pretend she wasn't being tailed by six bodyguards and Giovanni D'Onofrio.. Of course that was incredibly hard to do when her brother-in-law had insisted on holding her hand like she was a child and her bodyguards kept such a close watch they weren't even slightly inconspicuous about it.

She knew their large group had earned a few glances throughout the morning, and Liliana was thankful for the humongous pair of sunglasses that hid half her face. The only consolation was that no one recognised her - not like they did in her small town of Italy. There her family name was infamous, and she would be recognised no matter where she went or who she was with. Liliana found herself wondering if Marcello would also be so unrecognised out in public? Just how aware were people of the mafia families that controlled so much of the city?

Her group of bodyguards consisted of two women and six men; all were too tall and all came with faces made of stone. Eye contact between them all was limited and not one of them had spoken to her directly yet; their conversations pointed towards Giovanni while her existence was ignored. That she was used to; her Italian bodyguards had never interacted with her either, and she was thankful for it.

Still, despite her new indiscreet group of guards, Liliana couldn't deny that today had been a good day.

So far Liliana and Giovanni had perused a considerable amount of shops - clothes, food, gifts, homeware; anything and everything to keep her occupied. Besides, who knew how long she would be permitted to explore outside of the house before she was locked away again. She would certainly be making the most of this freedom.

She hadn't bought a single thing, much to Giovanni's annoyance, but it wasn't like she had any money on her. The only cash she had in her purse were euro's and her cards only worked back in Italy. She'd hardly had a chance to transfer any of her bank accounts over - they she would definitely need to if this was where she was forced to live from now on.

She supposed, as Marcello's wife, she didn't even need her own money now. They were extortionately rich after all, and unlike in Italy she no longer had to work to earn - not that she had a choice. She remembered all too well how that conversation had gone with Marcello.

Currently Liliana and Giovanni were inside a small cafe - that from a glance at the prices - Liliana knew was marketed more towards the upper class. Liliana stalked right towards the counter, thankful when Giovanni finally let go of her hand and diverted his attention to his mobile.

He was typing away quickly and he had been all morning. She knew he had work to do, she knew he wanted anything than to babysit her all day and that she wasn't the best company, but Liliana was beginning to get a little irritated by his silence. At times while they were inside a shop she would narrow her eyes at the device and a smug smirk would encompass his face. Liliana was beginning to think that Giovanni was purposefully being rude just to aggravate her.

"What are you wanting?" Liliana asked, not trying hard enough to keep the annoyance form her voice. They were next to be served, and she scanned the menu behind the counter quickly. Giovanni didn't say anything and Liliana couldn't stop herself from shooting him a glare. Ignoring her just like his brother, perfect. "You can't possibly still have people to talk to."

"Do you understand the concept of a conversation?" He sighed, as if replying to her was the most tiring task imaginable. "I reply to them, they reply to me, then I reply back to them and so on. It's not that hard to grasp."

"I know how to converse with people. I'm surprised you do, considering you've barely said two words to me all day."

Giovanni guffawed loudly, catching the attention of the people already seated in the café. Liliana noticed that the attention from the women lingered the most, not that she could blame them, Giovanni certainly was eye-catching in his expensive suit tailored. Then there was those famous Italian features of his, the dark shaved hair, tanned skin, prominent cheek bones. Yes, Giovanni definitely warranted a second glance.

"I wasn't aware how much you desired my charming personality and top notch conversational skills, Principessa," his deep voiced drawled.

"You're being a dick," Liliana snapped, and then as her cheeks flushed she muttered quietly, "I've had no one to talk to but Angelo and the staff all week. Forgive me for being a little desperate for conversation. Also I don't have any money, so you're paying for this."

She heard Giovanni scoff just as her scowl transformed into a blinding smile when the man behind the counter greeted them and asked for their order. Despite Giovanni's exasperation, her brother-in-law dutifully handed over a couple of notes.

"Can I have your number?" She asked, when she noted his attention still thoroughly locked on his phone.

"You want my phone number?" Giovanni asked with a raised brow, looking mildly amused.

"I don't have any of you guys' numbers. Doesn't seem very smart not to have it."

"No even Marcello's?" She wasn't sure why he seemed so shocked.

"Why would he want me to have his number, when he's been doing such a good job of avoiding me this past week?" There was unmistakable bitterness in her tone. At no point did she think her marriage to Marcello would be good but she resented just how hard he tried to avoid her.

He held out a hand, sighing, "Give me your phone then."

When they were seated in a booth with their drinks and a few pastries, three body guards inside the café and located at the table adjacent while the other three stood outside guarding the street, Giovanni was back to his phone and Liliana had to occupy herself by people watching. There were mainly couples or small groups sat down, the occasional loner working on a laptop or reading a book, but it was the woman sat by the window in the corner of the room that caught Liliana's attention.

She was young, perhaps only slightly older than Liliana, with dark blonde hair, a light tan and high cheekbones. She was sat alone. She was staring directly back at Liliana. The two of them locked gazes and after the raising an eyebrow Liliana was the first to look away.

Accidental eye contact was always awkward, however the fact that the woman had yet to remove her gaze was odd.

"Giovanni," Liliana uttered slowly, her voice as quite as possible without it becoming a whisper. He didn't respond. She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Giovanni."

He still ignored her, still typing away on his phone and smirking like an arrogant bastard. The toe of her boot nudged his shin roughly - well, kicked his shin was probably a more accurate description.

"What!" The older man snapped at her, glancing up beneath his surprisingly thick and feminine eyelashes. "What could you possible need from me so desperately?"

Liliana sighed and pursed her lips. Why did he have to be so difficult?

"There's a woman over there staring at us, do you know her?"

Giovanni scowled and reached for his cup, taking a long gulp of coffee as finally pocketed his mobile, hopefully this time for good.

"This is a highly populated city, let's not presume that I know everyone."

Again Liliana rolled her eyes, an action that was occurring far more frequently in the presence of this man. "Why don't you just look at her and then respond instead of being so snarky, hmm?"

He flashed her a sarcastic smile but listened regardless and blatantly turned around the stare over at the gorgeous woman. In an instant he stiffened and turned back around, his head dipping as he ran both hands through his short hair. There was a faint flush growing on the tips of his ears and Liliana didn't miss the tensed muscles in his biceps straining against his suit jacket.

"So you do know her." Giovanni scoffed and grumbled something under his breath. Liliana couldn't help but feel smug. Especially when she saw the woman stand up and begin to walk their way.

Liliana watched her cautiously, noting the amused smirk on the woman's lips as she sauntered their way with an extortionate amount of confidence. She wore straight, black trousers that had been belted tight above her waist and highlighted her long legs, paired with a silky black blouse and pointed heels.

"Who is she?" Liliana queried softly, eyeing Giovanni who's expression remained pinched and uncomfortable.

"No one you need to know," Giovanni managed to utter out in the gruffest voice she had ever heard.

"Well," Liliana blinked innocently up at him, the corners of her lips quirking in amusement. "Considering she's about to be at our table in about ten seconds I'd say I'm going to find out anyway."

Giovanni's head snapped in the woman's direction so fast Liliana was surprised she hadn't heard anything crack. Clearly these two had some history and Liliana was eager to find out what.

***

Marcello grinned, head tilted as he stared into the eyes of the writhing man he'd had tied up in the middle of their basement. The room was otherwise empty, the concrete floor, walls and ceiling all bare. The mas sweating profusely, nervous eyes darting behind Marcello to where Angelo stood with a bored expression and a metal pipe in hand - a pipe that was stained with blood.

Adrenaline surged through Marcello's veins, and a sickeningly addictive sense of power overcame him. It was the same sense of satisfaction Marcello always felt in moments like this, when he took business into his own hands rather than passing it off to his brothers or the other men that worked for him.

As the boss, the mafioso, it wasn't often Marcello dirtied his own hands. He was above this kind of work. Usually.

And he knew it took a sadistic man to enjoy this kind of work.

But he did.

"I don't know anything," the man pleaded, his words a garbled mess as he tried to speak around the mess of his jaw. His skin was pale, and the blood was stark against it.

"You were seen leaving a letter with one of my staff," Marcello drawled. He bent forward, hands resting against the back of the chair as he caged the man within his arms. The man flinched at his proximity. "Who are you working for?"

Silence.

The man clenched his eyes shut, as if preparing himself for the beating that was sure to follow. Marcello flexed his right hand, the knuckles already bruised and bloody and stepped back with a sigh.

The click of his gun was almost deafening in the quiet room, and Marcello's captive flinched again at the unmistakeable sound.

"I find it incredibly hard to believe you don't know who your employer is," he spat, stepping around the chair slowly, circling his prey. "You know who I am. You know my reputation. So either you are incredibly stupid, or you owe the wrong man a favour."

The muzzle of his gun pressed against the man, and his eyes flew wide, but still he didn't answer.

"Tell me who it is and I might spare your life. But I'd be quick if I were you, the longer it takes for you to remember the name, the more I'll have to help." To emphasise his point, Marcello pushed the muzzle of his gun into the man's thigh. The man gulped, near tears.

"I- I don't know!" he cried pathetically, breaking out into pitiful sobs. "He never gave me his name, I swear, I swear, I don't know anything."

Marcello tutted, seeming sympathetic for only a second before he pulled the trigger and a shot was fired.

The now injured man howled in agony. Marcello only grinned.

"I'm afraid that wasn't the answer I was looking for."



This one was for you Giovanni fans (he's also my favourite D'Onofrio).

Q. Who do you think the woman at the Café is?