Liliana was an idiot. A stupid, fucking idiot.

What other explanation was there, for her behaviour last night?

One touch of his mouth on hers and she'd nearly come completely undone; moaning and begging for more. She'd succumbed to his charms, his irrefutably sinful charms, and betrayed whatever morals she'd once had. Of course he kissed her just to shut her up. What other reason could there be, other than her husband was feeling horny and she was the only available woman for him to try his luck with.

Well, whatever the reason, Liliana wanted nothing more than to put it behind her. She couldn't allow herself to be used, simply to offer her husband some womanly comfort whenever he needed it.

Both Giovanni and Sebastiano greeted Liliana that morning in the kitchen, and Liliana was beginning to wonder just when it was that Sebastiano would disappear again. She didn't like having him around so much. He put her on edge.

As soon as her figure paused in the doorway, the eyes of the two men were immediately drawn towards her. Giovanni's smirk was immediate while Sebastiano - demonstrating similar pleasure - beckoned her over to the counter with a nod at the empty chair across from him, a small smile barely playing the edges of his mouth.

"Good morning," Sebastiano welcomed, his strong voice light, portraying none of its usually dark timbre. He certainly seemed in good spirits.

"Good morning," Liliana mumbled back, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at her marital family. She burrowed her hands in the pockets of her thick cardigan and shuffled over towards the clean marble countertop to prepare herself a cup of tea.

"La signora D'Onofrio." Lucetta was suddenly beside her, nodding her morning greeting as she wiped at the countertop. Her eyes dropped from Liliana's face and unexpectedly a soft blush rose up Lucetta's slender neck and coloured her cheeks. Liliana smiled gently, uttered a polite greeting back, and then moved to join the men at the table. Giovanni was waiting for her when she sat down, eyes staring at her in mischief.

"Yes?" She asked in a tired and airy tone. As his smirk grew her lips pursed.

"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked, and from his tone Liliana knew there was hidden meaning behind every word.

"Giovanni," Liliana warned tersely, not in the mood for any games.

He gave a gruff laugh and took a large gulp of his coffee. Without responding he glanced at his father, who was pretending not to pay attention to his company as he stared over at the far wall, still smiling.

"Giovanni!" she snapped again, a little too fiercely. A glance at Sebastiano proved that even her sharp, disrespectful tone wasn't enough to ruin his good mood.

"I am greatly amused to inform you that you are sporting evidence of a truce between you and my brother. I never thought I'd see the day."

A sickly sense of horror crept through her, squeezing at her heart.

How did they know?

"I-" She cleared her throat. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play coy Principessa, no matter how hard you deny it, that hickey you have on your neck is undeniable proof," Giovanni laughed gruffly. Both hands shot up to her neck, her palms slapping against the tanned skin. She imagined by now her face was scarlet.

"It was a moment of weakness," Liliana gritted out, unable to compose herself as a deep feeling of unease gripped at her stomach. "It won't be repeated."

Giovanni's amusement didn't waver and Liliana had to swallow her frustrations. She had been so adamant in remaining strong and defiant against Marcello's restrictions, against this marriage, wanting desperately to cling to what little control and authority she had left.

But as it stood, she felt like nothing more than a weak little girl playing a role. Especially not with the evidence of her own desires so evidence against her neck. Perhaps it would be easier for her to give up now, to succumb to their rules and become the perfect wife they desire; become a passive woman that never defied them, whose only goal was to look after her men.

But what kind of life would that be?

"What is my role here?" Liliana queried softly, the ache in her chest growing uncomfortably.

Giovanni seemed thrown by her question, looking towards his father hesitantly as if asking for guidance. Liliana took pleasure in seeing his laughter fade.

"Your role?"

She had gained Sebastiano's full attention now. She met his gaze without pause, trying to decipher his contemplative expression as he rested his thumb and forefinger beneath his chin. What little self-preservation she had warned her to be cautious over her next words.

"Yes, my role. It's been explained to me why I can be the perfect wife, that I'm here for no reason other than to further the D'Onofrio legacy," she said, keeping her eyes on Sebastiano. She remembered all too well what he had explained to her, how she'd been made to feel like nothing more than an object for their using. "But what am I meant to be doing here all day, every day?"

They both seemed to enjoy teasing her over the obvious affection she and Marcello had shared. Did it seem, to them, like she was finally giving in and becoming the demure wife they wanted? Because she had not been raised to be such - despite her family name - and they would be sorely disappointed if they thought her resolution had crumbled already.

"What do you want me to say?" Giovanni asked dryly. "We all know you're Marcello's wife. We all know how you became Marcello's wife. You want me to belittle you, so that you can shout your defiance? You want me to tell you that I expect you to be a good little wife and do as Marcello says?"

Liliana tried to hold back her frown but noticed Lucetta - who was still stood over by the sink - wasn't as successful.

Giovanni scoffed, "Strength comes in difference forms Principessa. Whether you think that strength will come in conceding to my brothers will, or continuing to push back against his commands, is entirely up to you. Your role here is whatever you damn please, just as long as your role remains here. I'm not going to interfere."

Ironic when it was blatantly obvious Liliana had very little choice in anything she did anymore.

He shot Sebastiano a silent look, before sighing, "Believe it or not, we were the better outcome of an arranged marriage. I don't know Dad's reasoning, but had it not been him who broached the subject of marriage with Antonio, it would have been someone much worse. And your father would have agreed all the same."

"No."

Liliana shook her head fiercely. She would not believe that the D'Onofrio's had saved her from her own father. They had not saved her from anything. Only condemned her.

"Liliana-"

"No," she cut off. "I can't- can't believe my father would just throw me away to whichever rich dick offered the highest price. He trusts this family, he knows I'm safe. That's the only reason."

"But that's what he di-" Giovanni's protests cut off when his father placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

Liliana didn't wait around for anyone else to speak, she was already making a hasty exit out of the kitchen.

Her father had agreed to this marriage unexpectedly, and that in itself suggested how ill thought out the decision had been. He had betrayed her trust and had not seemed to care about how much such a decision had affected her. Then, so soon after the marriage she had been abandoned by everyone she knew and loved, thrust into a life with the D'Onofrio's with so little preparation.

What she needed now was guidance, from someone other than the D'Onofrio's who clearly had only one goal in mind over her life with them. No matter how sympathetic Giovanni seemed to be, it was him and his family that kept her trapped here.

But her own judgements were always going to be biased and Liliana feared she would allow her own inexperience and stubbornness to lead her into trouble. Perhaps there was truth to Giovanni's words, maybe the reason for her current misery was because continued to push against Marcello's commands.

Whatever the truth, it was becoming clear Liliana was no closer to it.

"Signora Liliana!" Lucetta called after her. The woman was rushing out of the kitchen towards her and when she came to a stop, she seemed to shift uneasily on her feet.

"Lucetta..." Liliana's voice trailed softly. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Another letter," was all Lucetta anxiously said, pulling out a familiar looking envelope from the pocket of her apron once again.

It was the same as before, an envelope sealed with wax, hand delivered with only her name written in cursive across the centre.

Liliana stared at the seal, unsure whether she should open it or burn it. The last letter had only contained one vague, confusing message - 'You have been lied to'. It's purpose still remained a mystery, and yet Liliana couldn't deny the curiosity it had sparked. Would this second letter contains answers, or further questions?

"I'll open it later," she swallowed, struggling with the action. "Thank you, Lucetta." The other women didn't return a smile at Liliana's obviously strained one, and she didn't leave right away either, her lips turned down at the corners and her hands fisting in the front of her apron, wrinkling the uniform with how tightly she was gripping it.

"I'll be in my room until dinner," she excused, quickly turning on her heels and hurrying towards the bedroom. Once she was inside and Liliana was sure she would not be interrupted, she tore open the envelope and allowed the contents to fall out onto the bed.

What fell was a collection of newspaper clippings and another singular piece of white paper, on which was scrawled a short message.



The newspaper clippings were all in Italian, from the local newspaper of her aunt's home town, and they all detailed the same event - her mama's death. It had been big news in the small town nineteen years ago; the daughter-in-law of Valentino Fiorenza had died post-childbirth due to an injury sustained days prior, with his only granddaughter surviving.

This wasn't the first time Liliana had read these articles. After failing to learn much of her mama from her father throughout her childhood, Liliana had often turned to the internet in hopes of gaining even the slightest bit of information on Emiliana Fiorenza.

She didn't understand why they had been sent to her now, along with such a note. The clippings contained no new information from the first few times she had read them, and she had no reason to suspect there was any falsity in their words. She had never before questioned the circumstance of her mama's death, and she didn't want to start now.

And yet the curiosity remained, like a nagging thought that refused to go away. Why was she receiving these letters only now?

Because whatever it was that they hinted at, it was clearly linked to the D'Onofrio's.

Already she suspected Marcello of keeping secrets from her. Now, these anonymous notes were telling her that the D'Onofrio's had lied - were lying - about something involving her mama; and just moments earlier she had learned that her father had married her off to the D'Onofrio family merely because it had been the first offer that presented itself.

As Sebastiano said just three days ago - 'your father owed me, and I wished to take something he cared about' - this marriage had been nothing more than a way for Antonio Fiorenza to clear his debts. Her father had made her believe that her life would be in danger if she refused the marriage proposal, had that all been a lie too?

***

When Liliana entered the dining room that evening she was surprised to see Giovanni already sat at the large, oak carved table. She avoided his heavy gaze and slowly made her away over to her usual chair on the edge of the table, the evening meal already set down waiting for her.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier." Giovanni was first to speak from his seat across from her. "It was... callous to bring up such a conversation at breakfast. But it did need to be said. It'll be good to talk about it."

Liliana hummed her acknowledgement, grip tightening around her fork until her fingers began to hurt. She kept her eyes on her plate, poking at the food. She was sure it was delicious, as all the meals were, but as usual she found her appetite to be faint.

Giovanni sighed, "Liliana."

A buzzing settled in her ears and she found Giovanni's voice to grown faint as he continued to call her name. A hand landed on her forearm and Liliana jolted back, attention snapping to Giovanni.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said bluntly. Her words were dull, her voice steady and detached. Giovanni's eyes tightened.

"Liliana, you have to admit th-"

"Giovanni." Liliana dropped her fork, the metal clanging loudly against her plate. She cringed, her voice strained as she insisted, "I don't want talk about this now. Please."

He nodded, not looking happy with her request. As he began to eat, his eyebrows remained tightly knitted, and his attention stayed on her. Five minutes into the meal, and he had no looked away once.

"What?" she questioned tersely, through gritted teeth.

"Are you okay?"

"What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I'm not okay!" Liliana snapped.

"You've suggested that my papà, a man that I love deeply, would have sold me off to the highest bidder with no regards to my safety whatsoever, suggested that he care so little about me that as long as he got his end of the deal, what happened to me was of no concern? And you expect me to be okay with that?" She huffed, her cheeks enflamed as she pushed back from the table and stood facing him with a glare, with her arms crossed across her chest. "The only thing that is allowing me to not going insane at the concept of this arranged marriage is that my papa has known your father since before I was born. To believe that his trust in my husband is irrelevant is to believe that I am unimportant, unloved, and merely property," she spat the word, "to control, sell and possess."

She'd aimed her anger at Giovanni, but it was her father who truly held the source of her fury. For too long had she sat on this revelation; and now that Giovanni had confirmed the true extent of her father's betrayal she was determined to break the silence between them.

She would call her papa tonight and hope that he answered, for she had a lot to say to him and he was going to listen.

***

Marcello didn't expect his brother's phone call that evening; not when Giovanni's only responsibility was to keep an eye on Liliana and ensure she was safe.

"What's wrong?" He asked in a rushed breath.

He'd just finished meeting with the mafiosi of two other families situated in New York, in an attempt to garner new information on the threats he had been receiving. He had learnt nothing, and wasted nearly an entire day. Now he stood in the lobby of the family hotel - the business they used as a front for their main income - glaring at whoever came into his line of sight.

"Relax Mercello," Giovanni's voice sounded strained through the phone, which did nothing to relax him. A frown immediately overcame Mercello's features. "Liliana is fine. But I'm worried about her - more so than usual."

His brother sounded exhausted.

"What is it?"

The last time Marcello had seen his wife had been their kiss, and with a sinking feeling he feared that was the cause of Giovanni's newfound worry.

"We touched on the topic of her father today. I may have said more than I should have, and she was visibly upset. She's been withdrawn all day and the only time we spoke over dinner she stormed out. I'm worried it's more than just her father, and I'm worried that she has no one to talk to."

Marcello sighed, tugging at his hair painfully.

"It's possible I've also upset her. Last night-"

"Stop. Please." His brother cut him off quickly. "I already know about that, and I don't want to know the details of your sex life. She's covered in hickeys by the way, which is hilarious considering you're twenty-four not a teenager."

"Stop talking," Marcello growled. It was almost certain Liliana was upset with him now. Hickeys for goodness sake. Giovanni was right, he'd acted like an impulsive teenager, and not the guarded mafioso he was known to be.

"I'm just saying, I think we need to keep an eye on her. We all know how stressful this life can be, and I don't want her to hurt herself."

Hurt herself; this wasn't the first time Marcello had worried about such a thing, nor would it be the last. Somehow, having Giovanni confirm those same fears, forced them to become all too real.

"You know we can't allow something like that to happen again."

"I know. I'll keep you updated on anything else. When will you be home?" Giovanni asked.

"I'm on my way."



Guys... I have finished college... all of my exams... done... no more revision, no more homework, no more stress for 2 1/2 months which means plenty of time to write!!!

[25/03/16]

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Q. Best guess, who is the culprit behind the letters and what do you think the 'Donofrio lies' are?