The restaurant in the D'Onofrio Hotel was just as sophisticated as she expected. Small pillar candles sat in the centre of their table, and hung from the ceiling were vines of large blooming white flowers and fairy lights. The dim lighting, quiet atmosphere and beautiful décor made it easy to understand how the hotel had made a name for itself amongst the rich and famous, even if such dark rumours followed the owners.

From the moment they'd arrived, Liliana hadn't seen any empty tables. Each table was spaced out, providing more than enough privacy for all the diners. Their table tonight, was more secluded than the rest. Tucked away in a far corner, Liliana was relieved to be away from prying eyes.

They'd been noticed almost immediately upon their arrival, people no doubt recognising Marcello. It was clear that Marcello had put more effort into his image tonight than usual; perhaps aware that they would garner so much attention.

His hair had been styled into a tousled perfection, and his dark suit was tailored to his body, highlighting enough of his athletic build that Liliana had had a hard time looking away from him. As with everywhere Liliana went, guards had escorted them inside and now stood nearby to keep any unwanted guests away. That smug smirk - that Liliana hated so much - was curved at his lips and as Marcello gestured for one of his guards to murmur something in his ear, Liliana noted the numerous thick gold rings that adorned his hands. He looked every bit the feared Mafia Boss, playing into the role of rich and alluring business owner with a sordid reputation.

Marcello sat across from her at the table as they waited in silence for whomever it was that they were to dine with. Liliana didn't dare look away from him, not as so many people watched them, while Marcello's attention was focussed on the rest of the restaurant intently. When his eyes finally met hers, the corners of his lips lifted into yet another irritating smirk.

Liliana did her best to force a demure smile on her mouth, watching her husband with none of the contempt she usually felt for him. Which was hard work when Marcello seemed to only take pleasure from this, his eyes bright and laughing.

"I thought we were meeting business partners of yours," she drawled, eyeing the two empty places at their table. It had been more than ten minutes of waiting. Liliana couldn't believe someone would be so stupid as the publicly leave Marcello waiting. It was good Marcello had insisted on sitting across from her while they waited.

"We were supposed to." Mercello checked his watched and the entrance of the restaurant once more. His expression hardened, and his voice became gruff as he murmured, "They won't be making this mistake again."

Liliana shivered at his tone. There was no misunderstanding his tone. To disrespect a Mafia Boss was to taunt death itself.

He raised his hand barely above the table and already Liliana could see the waitress that seated them rushing to their side. Her uniform was the standard black trousers and white blouse, her hair was tied up in a tight pony tail above her head and her makeup remained simple and not too distracting. Mercello ran a very professional looking establishment from what Liliana had gathered so far.

"It's just the two of us for tonight," he informed the waitress once she was by his side and she immediately began to clear the other half of the table. "We'll have the bottle of wine I set aside and two of my usual." The waitress nodded before hurrying off.

"I'm not legal," Liliana stated, frowning. Marcello, her usually quite stoic husband, rolled his eyes.

"I own the damn place," he scoffed. "Didn't you drink in Italy? It was legal there."

"I didn't drink myself stupid like every other teenager, despite my Federico and Gavino's persuasive attempts, if that's what you're asking," Liliana laughed dryly, shaking her head. "I would have a drink with my meals or at family gatherings, but that's it."

"Well at least I won't have to worry about you then," he declared humorously.

"I don't leave the house without an escort. There's no move I can make without you being informed about it," she commented sourly. "For what reason would you ever have to be worried?"

"I wasn't informed of your outing this morning."

Because you were asleep, Liliana wanted to shout.

"I was in an empty café, with a family friend of yours and ten guards," she said unimpressed, but in spite of her neutral expression her voice wavered, evidence of her frustrations.

Their waitress was back before she could say anything more, quickly pouring out two glasses of dark red wine. Liliana didn't like red wine. She was sure it was heinously expensive, and perhaps she should have been grateful to be receiving such luxury, especially if Marcello had chosen it personally, but she couldn't feel anything but resentful. Of course he had chosen her food and drink for the evening, because why would she be allowed to choose for herself?

"Are you going to try it?" her husband asked, nodding towards the glass.

"If I must."

Liliana's expression tightened at the first, her upper lip curling. No, she definitely didn't like this.

"I take it you don't like it?" Mercello chuckled. Liliana hummed as she placed the glass down, reaching for her water.

"It's almost as distasteful as our marriage." The comment slipped seamlessly through her lips, one that wasn't supposed to be uttered out loud but one that she wouldn't apologise for. It seemed to cut off Mercello's hilarity however, and Liliana saw that as a positive. "Let's not pretend I'm here through my own desire, Mercello. I didn't have any choice in the matter as with all my new aspects of life as a D'onofrio woman." While Liliana's stare had been unwavering and dangerously daring, Mercello hadn't broken beneath the challenge. He seemed to be positively overflowing with waves of exasperation at her biting words.

Marcello was tense, fixing her with a hard stare.

"I have no doubt that our culture is far more prevalent in Italy, and that you are no stranger to our ways. This way of life should be no surprise to you, and perhaps if you had been raised properly you would not be so adverse to this marriage," he said, dragging a hand roughly through his hair.

Liliana bristled at his words. Leaning across the table, she spoke quietly in a low hiss, "The last three years I was raised and nurtured by a woman who's spent her entire life under the control of men, until it nearly broke her. It should be no surprise to you that I've been taught to never settle for anything less than I deserve."

"I know all about your aunt, Adelina Romano."

"Adeline Fiorenza." Liliana's tone was firm. "She doesn't use her marital name."

Marcello's nostrils flared; he resembled a bull about to charge, but Liliana didn't flinch under the heat of his anger. "You are the granddaughter of an infamous Sicilian Mafia Don. You know who I am. You know what I can do. You know what is expected of you. Yet you continue to defy me."

"I warned you that I could never be an obedient wife. I told you that you would grow tired of me, that you would regret this marriage. You knew exactly what you were accepting when you married me."

A tense silence fell over their table. Marcello's jaw was clenched, a prominent tick betraying his otherwise calm demeanour. To onlookers, their body language may have been mistaken for something else, but for Liliana it was obvious that her husband was furious. Perhaps she had gone too far this time, but despite any fear she felt, she couldn't find it within her to be regretful.

She had promised her aunt she would never bow down to domineering men, and Marcello had earned that title easily.

Marcello's hands flexed on the table, the gold of his rings gleaming in the dim candlelight of their table. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and rough, as if he were barely holding onto his temper by a thin thread. Any sane woman would take that as enough warning to hold their tongue.

"I remember that night in Belize well, when we fell asleep together on the sofa. You disliked me then too, but you didn't try to push me away so vehemently. What's changed since then?"

Liliana arched towards him, forearms resting heavily against the table as she offered Marcello a coy smile, meant to deceive anyone in the restaurant whom still dared to watch them. Even so her expression did not match her sharp tone.

"You mean, besides you deserting me the minute we arrived, your obvious control issues when it comes to the ridiculous restrictions you've placed on me and your alarmingly possessive attitude when it comes to a kiss that didn't even occur - nor did I want it to - between me and Angelo, a kiss you refuse to discuss with me and continue to judge me for?" She snapped in a furious whisper, knowing that if she spoke any louder her voice would carry across the room and attract unwanted attention.

"I won't apologise for my reactions upon seeing my wife and my brother in such an compromising position. I won't allow such blatant disrespect. But," Marcello paused, fixing her with a pointed gaze. "It wasn't you that I blamed, it's Angelo whom I hold responsible."

"Yes," Liliana retorted, "that was clear when you refused to speak to me."

"Forgive me, if I found the image of you and my brother to be a displeasing one," Marcello bit out, also leaning across the table towards her, eliminating the distance between them. Liliana wondered if, to the outside perspective, they looked like nothing more than a flirting husband and wife.

"You were jealous." It wasn't a question but a solid statement, spoken with confidence and not an ounce of uncertainty. Liliana released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, leaning back in her chair. Her hands fell away from the table and rested against her thighs, clenching against the fabric of her evening dress.

"Of course I was jealous!" he snapped, clearly infuriated. "You're the only women I am going to be with until we die, I will not have any other man laying a hand on what is irrefutably mine. Do you understand?"

Where his loyalty would have been admirable, his imperious nature ruined it entirely.

"More than anything. Given who you are," Liliana responded, her tone much calmer than before, "It's not safe for me to be anything but loyal to you. I am reminded of that every damn day."

A quite hush overcame the table as Liliana caught sight of their waitress retuning once again, this time with food. Liliana reached out for the glass of wine and gulped at the acidic liquid until the glass was empty, wincing at the foul taste. Marcello only eyed her warily but didn't comment. When the waitress made to pour her another glass, Liliana was quick to stop her, instead ordering herself a fruity cocktail. At this point she didn't care if Marcello had made the damn wine himself, she couldn't drink another drop.

"I didn't want to argue with you today," Marcello said, shoulders tense. He didn't even glance at his plate, eyes locked on her.

"There's a lot of things I don't want," was Liliana's snappish reply. At Mercello's scornful glare she huffed and rolled her eyes.

'You know who I am. You know what I can do.' Those words had certainly been a threat. If she was smart, she would stop herself from speaking so impulsively. The only problem was that Liliana was beginning to think she was very, very stupid.

He'd proven time and time again that he had full control of her actions, and could restrict her to the manor with ease should he see fit. But he had yet to master control over her voice, over her opinions. She refused to give him the chance.

Liliana's attention fell to her plate of food as she took small bites, thinking over her next words carefully. The silence at their table was palpable and Liliana noticed Mercello's clenched fist above the table as he too started to eat.

"Who was meant to join us?" She uttered lowly, her attempt at a civilised conversation.

"One of my father's associates. I had planned for him to take charge in merging your families restaurant with the D'Onofrio hotel, now that you're father has abdicated his shares of the business to us. He's lost that opportunity," Marcello explained bitterly.

Marcello's thick brows were furrowed deeply, she could see that he had undone one button of his white dress shirt. His once styled hair sat out of place. She forced herself not to stare.

"What of my aunt and her run of the business?" Zia Adelina had been running the restaurants in Italy for more than two decades, since before Liliana's father had branched out to America. It would be a cruel dealing of fate if Adelina lost the entire business because Liliana's father had just handed it away, along with his only child, to settle his debts.

"No, your Aunt will still be in control of things in Italy but I will be taking over all of your father's responsibilities here in America." Marcello paused. "Antonio will be arriving within the next few days to go over all the legal documents."

Liliana's heart squeezed uncomfortably in her chest. Her father would be visiting. The man who, two nights ago, had left her in tears. The man who had sold her off like cattle and refused to speak to her about it or explain himself. The man who cowered behind the impact of his betrayal.

Liliana reached for her glass of water, hoping to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth.

"I don't wish to see him," she said quietly, hating how meek her voice suddenly sounded. She hated Marcello's reaction even more; his expression softened and something akin to worry marred his features.

"I understand things are... tense between the two of you right now," he said slowly.

"My father worked his way into a debt with Sebastiano, a debt somehow so severe that it not only risked his life but my life too, if I didn't agree to marry his son. Tense would be quite an understatement, I think," she muttered, sighing softly.

Marcello's lips thinned. He said nothing as he took a long sip of his wine.

"Frankly," she said, prodding her fork at the food on her plate. "After everything that happened to my mother, I thought he'd want me to have nothing to do with any mafioso or this lifestyle."

"What do you mean?"

Liliana paused, taken off guard by Marcello's suddenly gruff tone of voice. "Because of who he was and who he was connected to, my mother was targeted. She wasn't used to this life, she'd been sheltered too much, and was unable to protect herself. She died due to her injuries a few days after my birth."

"I see." Again there was something off about his voice, it was a little too sharp, a little too quick. Something about this topic had Marcello on edge. Liliana had not forgotten about the photograph of her mother she had found hidden in his book; truthfully she had not planned on confronting him about it, at least no so soon, but the words seemed to be spilling from her mouth before she could stop them.

"Did you know my mother?"

Marcello's eyes narrowed. "I would only have been five when your mother died."

That wasn't an answer.

Liliana held his gaze, tensing in her seat. It seemed she had no choice but to be direct. "Yes," she said, tightly. "But... I found some photographs the other night..."

Marcello's fingers clenched around the delicate stem of his wine glass, and for a moment Liliana was genuinely concerned the glass would snap. She glanced warily around the restaurant, and towards the guards that has their backs to them, offering them privacy as if they really were a newly wedded couple out on a date.

"I wasn't snooping," she felt the need to explain. "I... I was tidying up, for you, putting your book away. The photographs fell out."

"I see." Why wasn't he saying anything else?

"So you did know her then? When you were a child? Or you knew of her at least?" Liliana asked with bated breath.

"Our mothers were friends, from what I understand. After-" Marcello cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. "After my mother died, Emiliana would look after me from time to time, when my father and Gabriella were too busy. Until..."

Until Emiliana Fiorenza, Liliana's mother, also died. So many women had fallen victim of the Mafia and the men that ruled it. Would she be another?

Marcello would no longer meet her eyes. "I don't remember much of her. But from what I can remember she was a kind, soft spoken woman."

Nothing like Liliana then. It was strange to hear someone speaking of her mother. After so many years yearning to learn everything she could about her, she thought she would be happy to know more. Instead it left her feeling a little hollow.

"And the other photograph, that was your mother?" she asked, remembering the pretty dark haired woman. Marcello nodded tersely. "She looked young... They both did."

Too young to have suffered such horrible fates.

"They were."

***

Marcello scowled as his wife hooked her arm through his and leant heavily into his side, playing the part of enamoured wife perfectly. She'd not had much to drink beyond the one glass of wine and some pink drink the waitress had brought her, but she was tired; something made evident by yet another yawn she tried to smother beneath her hand. Or maybe she was just bored of his company. There had been a uncomfortable atmosphere to the remainder of their meal; one that had them both settled into an uneasy silence.

Marcello had been unable to keep his eyes from her, and noted with some disdain that other people in the restaurant seemed to be struggling similarly. Even now as they waited for his driver to appear with the car, people seemed to be staring. It was not unexpected, given whom he was and the fact that he was rarely seen with a woman on his arm. Plus, no doubt the news of his wedding had begun to be circulated amongst the public. It was natural for people to be curious.

There were some people though, that had forgotten just who he was and what he was capable of. If he saw one more person leering at his wife, he was going to make it abundantly clear just how powerful he was. Then, he was sure, no one would look at Liliana in such a way again.

After seeing how much attention they had gained immediately upon their arrival, Marcello had not planned on staying so long at the restaurant. Yet as they finished their food, he'd found himself insisting they stay for dessert. In her revealing dress, Marcello would have to be an idiot not to have noticed that Liliana had lost weight since the wedding.

"How much longer do we have to wait?" Liliana groaned, shifting beside him. With a sigh, Marcello detached his arm from her tight grip and wrapped it around her waist. To his surprise, she didn't object. Her body was pressed up against the length of his and her dress was so thin it was easy to feel every curve of her. He drew a shaky breath and prayed she didn't notice.

"It won't be long, you'll be home soon enough," he assured, glaring at the odd person to glance their way.

"No," she refuted, though her voice was surprisingly soft. He felt her arm curving at his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit. "Home is with my family, I'll never be home again."

When he glanced down at her, he was surprised by the sudden ache in his chest at the sight of her dejected expression. It was no secret that she was discontent with their marriage - she had made that no secret -but usually she told him so in anger. To look at her now, all he could see was a woman who had all but given up.

"The cars here now," he informed quietly, a lump in his throat.

Inside the car, she sat curled against the door, gazing out of the window. Mercello reached out and rested his hand on top of hers. She didn't pull away but she didn't acknowledge him either. "It won't be long, you can get to bed soon."

Much like their dinner, the journey in the car had been quiet and tense. Marcello hadn't removed his hand from hers, his thumb stroking gentle circles into her palm. When they arrived at the D'Onofrio manor, neither seemed to be in a rush to leave the car.

Liliana looked down at her lap, her free hand smoothing out creases in the silk fabric of her dress. She wouldn't look at him.

He slid his hand from hers and he was quick in stepping out of the car. His driver moved towards Liliana's door but Marcello waved him off, opening it himself. He felt himself tense at the sight of her glancing up at him through her dark lashes. He couldn't read the expression on her face, but he was just thankfully it wasn't one of her deadly glares.

She gripped his hand tightly as he helped her out of the car, and then they were stood far too close to one another. The smell of her damn perfume assaulted his nose, and he could feel the heat of her body. Marcello couldn't step away. Not when what he wanted was to bury his face in her neck and hold her tightly.

He wanted a lot of things actually; he wanted to know why she had lost weight, he wanted to ask her what to do and how to help, he wanted to know why he seemed to be getting everything wrong.

He didn't do any of that though. What he did do, was let his hands curve at her waist and dip his head until his nose grazed hers. He heard her breath hitch and watched as her lips parted.

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he'd thought. He must have been drunk, after all, to say what he did next.

"I want to kiss you," he confessed, unable to look away from her mouth. He held himself though, remembering all too well her fury the last time he had kissed her so impulsively. He didn't want to give her more reason to hate him.

Liliana's hands were flat against his chest not pushing him away, but she didn't say anything at all in answer. Could she feel how hard his heart was beating?

He heaved a deep sigh and pressed a short chaste kiss to her temple, prepared to step away. Of course she didn't want to kiss him. Why would she? Why would she want him in any capacity?

Very few people wanted him beyond his name and power, and he couldn't expect Liliana to be any different. Not after she had made it so clear how much she despised him.

Marcello's hands left her waist but Liliana's hands gripped at the front of his shirt, and Marcello was rendered frozen in disbelief as she rolled forward onto her toes and brushed her mouth against his.

"I-" Liliana said, voice breaking as she pulled back. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes were wide and wild as she stared at him.

His hand found their way into her thick curls, cupping the back of her neck and arching her head towards him. His other hand came to rest upon her jaw, thumb caressing the plump flesh of her lower lip. Liliana shivered in his arms.

"Marcello," she whispered, and it sounded wholly different from any time she had said his name before. He could feel her breath on his lips, could see the erratic pulse in her throat, and he allowed himself to believe that in this moment she too could want this just as much as he did.

His mouth dipped towards her and Marcello nearly came undone at the sound of Liliana moaning against him, her body sinking into his. Like the first time they had kissed, it was hot and hard. Soon her lips weren't enough, his mouth kissing across her jaw and down the length of her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin and dragging quiet whimpers from her.

He wanted more; more, more more.

Marcello pulled back, voice thick as he urged himself to say, "We need to go inside."

They were alone out here, leant against the car. His driver had long since made himself scarce and there was no one else out here other than the guards at the front gate who could not see anything from their vantage point. Still, it would be so easy for someone to step outside and see them like this. Marcello didn't want to see Liliana's embarrassment at being caught with him like this.

They needed to go inside. They needed to go to their room. They needed to go to their bed.

Liliana pulled his face back to hers, kissing him again and again. Her tongue was on his, and her mouth tasted so sweet; sweet like the dessert they had not long since shared.

Before Marcello could make sense of what was happening the two of them had staggered inside, throughout the house, and into their bedroom - unaware and uncaring of anyone else in manor. His shirt had been discarded somewhere on the floor and his pants were the next to go. Liliana was already waiting for him on their bed, her heels gone but still in her dress with her face flushed an enticing pink.

He took a second to take her in as he stalked slowly towards her on the bed, all too aware of the throbbing erection tenting his underwear - especially as her eyes visibly scoured him from head to toe. Liliana bit her lower lip and Marcello tracked the movement with his eyes, wanting nothing more than to claim that lip between his own teeth.

The bed dipped beneath his weight as he knelt on one knee and then the other, crawling across the mattress until he hovered above her with his hands plants on either side of her head. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow and Marcello couldn't deny how wildly attractive he found her to be in that moment. Cheeks full of colour, lips swollen, eyes bright; she seemed full of life, and she looked at him like she truly wanted him.

"Are you just going to look at me, or are you going to kiss me again?" She said breathlessly, that sharp tongue of hers urging him into actions.

Instantly his mouth was on her, his hands against the warmth of her skin as they dragged a leisurely path down her body. Her silk dress pooled at her thighs as a thin strap fell from her shoulder. Her legs parted and Marcello found himself between them, his erection aching against the confines of his underwear as their hips met and a guttural moan escaped him.

Liliana tugged at his hair when he nipped at her ear. His hips bucked on instinct, grinding against her. She tugged again, rougher this time, and Marcello bit down hard in answer.

He'd never heard anything more sensual than the sound of Liliana's moans in his ear.

He wanted to hear that sound again, and again, and again.



Okay, so I know some of you guys are like "Elise, why is this story moving so damn slow, nothing is happening, I wanted a hella dramatic mafia story where people are sexing it up, getting shot and snorting coke" and I get it. But like, I can't do much with 'this is so slow, get together already' (it's a slow burn, this is what a slow burn is). I'm re-write this entire story rn so now is the time to offer suggestions & changes.

Q. Do you think they went all the way?