Liliana's face scrunched in distaste as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her index finger poked roughly at the base of her neck and collar bones, lip curling at the sight of the horrible purple and pink marks. It looked as if someone had been gnawing on her neck all night long.

What the hell had he done to her?

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, skin and hair still wet from her shower, Liliana couldn't stop scowling at her own reflection. She'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror for nearly ten minutes, glaring at the sight of the promiscuous, traitorous, little idiot glaring back at her.

She couldn't explain what had overcome her the night before, what had possessed her to sleep with Marcello. She wished more than anything she could blame the decision on alcohol, but she had barely had anything to drink at all. Just thinking about last night had her entire body flushed with heat, and her thighs clenching.

Liliana had hoped that it had all been just a dream; a lustful, self-indulgent dream. But Liliana wasn't so lucky.

Mercello hadn't been there when she awoke, quite late into the day, but he needn't be. For Liliana was bare of clothes that morning under the crumpled sheets of the bed, and there was an ache between her legs. She was sore and that pain couldn't lie.

She couldn't forgive herself for this mistake.

Stupid attractive husband.

It hadn't been her first time with a man - not that anyone else knew of that fact. She had only slept with someone once before, and it had been years ago; she hadn't dared to do it again and risk the wrath of her family should someone have found out. But her first time had been a quick and rushed affair, nothing like what had transpired between Marcello and her the night before.

No, Marcello had taken his time with her last night. He'd explored nearly every inch of her with his hands, and his mouth, until she had been writhing on their bed begging him to finally take her.

How would she be able to look Marcello in the eye after such wanton behaviour? Despite having slept together, Liliana was adamant that nothing had changed between them. He was still her domineering husband that had locked her inside his home and abandoned her to this new life, and then when he had finally released her, he had forced his brothers to watch her at all times outside of the house. Despite whatever supposed freedom she had been granted now, she was still not allowed to pursue a job, or education, or socialise outside of D'Onofrio gatherings.

Once she had finally pulled herself together, Liliana dared to leave the safety of their bedroom. She had hoped the kitchen would be empty by the time she emerged for breakfast. But, as she had already established, she wasn't so lucky.

Angelo leant against the kitchen island, staring at the phone in his hand with a half empty mug of coffee beside an empty plate. His clothes suggested a morning work-out, with matching black shorts, vest that clung to his sweaty body. Gross. She didn't let her gaze linger on him.

"Suffering?" Angelo asked, a biting smile on his face as he greeted her.

Liliana said nothing as she moved to pour herself a glass of water, keeping her back to him. She didn't want to have to deal with Angelo this morning; not when her head was still reeling over what had happened with Marcello. She certainly didn't want him to catch any evidence of what had transpired last night. Liliana had purposefully worn a high-neck sweatshirt to hide the damn hickeys, though knew that at certain angles they were still visible. But it wasn't like she could wear a turtle neck in the middle of summer.

"We were all in the sitting room when you two came stumbling inside the house like horny teens, you know. So much for not liking Mercello."

Fuck.

Liliana tensed, completely frozen in her spot as that familiar blush of hers scorched her cheeks. Of all the people to have caught them. When his words registered fully, however, Liliana felt a cool wash of irritation overcome her.

What a petty little boy.

The once humorous flirt had quickly fallen in Liliana's opinion. She was beginning to see his bitter undertones and she didn't like it one bit.

"Honestly Angelo," she sighed, turning on him as she brushed back her thick hair behind her ear. "I understand the importance of venting your frustrations and not bottling up all those poisonous emotions, but right now I'm really not in the mood to humour you." Instead I have to go wallow in self pity some more.

Liliana was no longer in the mood for breakfast, her appetite evaporating as quickly as her patience. But as she reached the doorway, Angelo's voice had her pausing.

"Yes?" she queried tightly, her lips pursed in preparation for another of his petty remarks. She wasn't even sure why she was willing to listen to him; perhaps because his tone had lost it's usual cockiness.

"I-" he tongue swiped across his lips as he rubbed at the back of his neck, seeming far too awkward compared to any other time she had seen him. He kept his eyes downcast, seemingly too uncomfortable to even face her, as he uttered, "I want to apologise. I've been an ass lately, taking out my issues with Marcello onto you, when I'm sure you've enough issues with my brother on your own. I shouldn't have done that and I definitely shouldn't have tried to kiss you, no matter how much I wanted to at the time.

"I can't help but want what he has, no matter the cost. Sometimes I don't think about how my actions could affect others. I'm sorry if I've caused you any problems." He shrugged half heartedly, peeking up at her with a downtrodden expression. When she gave no immediate reply, he prompted, "Liliana?"

"Thank you for your apology," especially since your the first man to offer me one.

"So you forgive me?" The hopeful edge to his voice was apparent but Liliana shook her head.

"Start acting yourself again. And stop trying to argue with Marcello; it clearly isn't doing anyone any good."

***

Liliana didn't think before she answered the door to the manor. She really should have taken at least a second to contemplate who it could have been ringing the doorbell considering the last time she had been forced to welcome the storm that had been Alessandro Barbato. Not to mention any number of Marcello's associates would presumably be free to enter the D'Onofrio manor; all dangerous killers. But Liliana hadn't learned from the past, and that evening she was opening the door to her father.

Antonio Fiorenza looked haggard. His expression was sullen and his suit wrinkled. He looked liked he'd lost weight and not slept in days. The loss of his business and standing amongst the D'Onofrio's had clearly taken a toll on him.

"Father," she greeted sharply, wide eyed. His features pinched tightly. Either her presence alone irritated him, or it was the fact that she hadn't addressed him as Papa. Liliana held no such feelings of love and familiarity as she had before. This man was a stranger to her now, someone who she meant little to and who meant little to her. "What are you doing here?"

"Liliana," he uttered with a slight nod as he stepped forwards. Numbly, Liliana backed away and allowed him inside - despite the desire to slam the door into his haggard face. "I'm meant to be meeting Marcello at his office in a few hours, but I wanted to see you. Wher-"

"Antonio," Marcello shouted from behind her. "I told you not to come here!"

Liliana turned quickly, surprised Marcello was even home at this time of day. Before she could offer any protest, Marcello's arm was snaking around her waist and pulling her tightly into his side. Lips pressed tight together, Liliana remained silent. She was pleased to notice her father's nervous composure. Antonio refused to meet Marcello's eyes, his shoulders hunching forward in submission.

While her father was clearly terrified of her husband, all Liliana could focus on was Marcello's overwhelmingly familiar aftershave. Suddenly all she could think of was the memory of Marcello naked against her, the heat of his body, the touch of his hands. She nearly shuddered in his arms. Even now, Marcello's wandering hands - the light touch of his fingertips against a sliver of exposed skin beneath her sweatshirt - made such memories so difficult to forget. Heart beating furiously against her chest, Liliana reached up to grip Marcello's side tightly, as a way to silently convey her displeasure.

"Marcello," her father grunted, drawing her attention back to him. Antonio cleared his throat and offered a unsteady hand for him to shake.

"I'd prefer Signor D'Onofrio." Marcello ignored the outstretched hand, sneering down his nose at Antonio, in a way only he could do so well. The arm around her squeezed gently before he began to step away from her. "We'll sign everything in my office."

The tell tale signs of a scowl began to work its way onto her father's face, and as Marcello placed a chaste kiss upon Liliana's temple, her father followed the movement with narrowed eyes. Before either of them could make their way further into the house, however, another knock sounded against the front door.

Who else could possibly be here?

"That will be Roderigo," Antonio said, answering her silent question. "He had his own business to attend to in the country, I hope you don't mind that I invited him here with me today."

You weren't even invited, Liliana thought. Though at the mention of her cousin, Liliana's brows raised ever so slightly. What reason could Roderigo have to be here in America?

Roderigo, her aunt's second eldest child was frequently away from home, travelling across Italy upon the request of Marco - the eldest son - and their grandfather. Liliana hadn't known him to travel across countries, and she knew with certainty that Roderigo despised her father and the D'Onofrio's because of her marriage. It would only be smart to remain suspicious of this unexpected visit.

Mercello grunted to himself but said nothing as he stepped forward towards the front door and swung it open. The only issue was that it wasn't just Roderigo awaiting on the other side, but Barbato making a second visit with his security detail not far behind.

"You weren't invited," Marcello said gruffly, making no effort to hide his displeasure. Liliana was abundantly aware of how affected Marcello had been after Barbato's last visit, and concern began to eat away at her slowly. Marcello could not break down like he had last time, not in the company of her family.

Barbato's stern expression was overcome with a satisfied smirk.

"I'm an awfully busy man, if I tried to fit myself around other people's schedules I'd never get anything done," he rasped, and waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, I'm here to speak to Liliana, not you."

Barbato pushed past Roderigo - whom looked positively disgusted to be here, as if being anywhere near the D'Onofrio manor was abhorrent - and greeted Liliana with a kiss on the cheek. Roderigo watched the exchange with distaste, arms crossed tightly against his chest. He was dressed in grey button up, tucked into dark trousers with only had a large leather bag slung across his shoulder.

"Roderigo," Liliana whispered, her voice betraying her. She took a hesitant step forward, eyes wet. Within seconds her cousin was rushing forward to envelope her in a bone crushing hug, lifting her in his arms so that her feet left the ground and her arms tightened around his neck considerably. "Put me down, you oaf," she laughed lightly, her voice wavering. She had missed him considerably, as she had missed all her cousins and aunt, but she hadn't expected such an emotional reaction upon seeing him again.

"How are you?" Roderigo asked, all irritation melting away as he grinned down at her. Ignoring the tears in her eyes, she huffed jokingly with a dramatic roll of her eyes and straightened out her clothes.

"Much better now that my feet are on the ground again. What are you doing here?" She asked with a smile, ignoring the fact that everyone in the room was watching her intently. She was all to happy to finally have someone of familiarity here with her at the D'Onofrio manor.

Roderigo glanced over at the other men stood so close, seeming hesitant. "How about we catch up a little later in private."

Marcello cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. Liliana rolled her eyes but turned to smile at her husband none the less.

"Yes?" She raised a brow, forcing a sweet smile onto her face.

Liliana hoped her father was watching, hope he took note of everything that transpired between Liliana and Marcello. She wanted Antonio to recognise that her loyalties now lay with the D'Onofrio's because of his actions. She wanted him to drown himself in guilt, to feel the same sense of betray she had felt.

"I suppose it's better if we all collect in the lounge... considering our new guests," Marcello grunted, seeming thoroughly unimpressed by the situation.

In the D'Onofrio lounge, Liliana took her place in the high backed, leather armchair. The atmosphere to the room was thick, and everyone settled into a silence. Marcello had abandoned her to fetch whatever paperwork was needed from his office, and Liliana was left praying he would make a swift return. She felt outnumbered amongst her father and Barbato.

The men in question took a seat at opposite ends of the couch. Her father perched stiffly on the end, his knee bouncing restlessly as he eyed everyone with a frown. Barbato lounged comfortably in his seat, hands folded neatly on his lap, eyes bright and amused.

Roderigo - to Liliana's relief - stood by her side. His arms folded against his chest and a scowl sat unwavering on his face. He didn't seem to be able to decide who he disliked most as his eyes darted between Antonio and Barbato - though neither seemed concerned to be on the receiving end of such a stare.

"Well isn't this nice," Barbato uttered in amusement as he glanced around at the occupants of the room. "A cosy family get together."

Roderigo scoffed and spat, "And what family do you have?" Barbato's gazed fixed onto Liliana, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest.

"All my men are family, Fiorenza." He gestured lightly to the two guards who had arrived with him. Much like before they were stood stiffly behind the couch. One had his arms crossed behind his back while the other folded his arms and fixed his sight steadily on her father. "But that wasn't the point I was making and you know that. Antonio here hasn't said one word to his daughter in the ten minutes we've been here. What's the matter boy, too ashamed to face her?"

"Don't," her father spat, "call me a boy."

Unfazed by his anger, Barbato continued to taunt him in a light, mocking tone, "Your actions are that of a selfish child, until you get yourself together you're not a man."

Her father's face flushed instantly, the vein in his forehead - one that only appeared when he was about to burst - was throbbing.

"Enough." Liliana's tone was firm, and she didn't have to raise her voice to be heard. Barbato raised an eyebrow at her but sat back silently none the less. The next time she spoke her words were softer, "Stop antagonising him, please."

"You're still sticking up for him?" The old man mused.

"I don't have the energy for an argument to break out." And I really don't care about any of this anymore, she thought, though it felt more like a lie than anything else.

"Sometimes in situations such as ours, they can't be avoided. Did he tell you why you're really here?"

Liliana felt a lump in her throat as her stomach clenched uncomfortably. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly on her father's hunched figure. He was avoiding eye contact and she could see that his hands were clenched into tight fists. She already knew her father had worked himself into some kind of debt with the D'Onofrio's - one apparently so severe that his compliance with them was necessary to spare their lives.

"What do you mean?"

Roderigo's hand fell to her shoulder, squeezing it gently as if to remind her that he was still here. The action didn't comfort her like she imagined it was supposed to, it only added to the sick feeling settling deep in the pit of her stomach.

"Your father, the greedy bastardo," Barbato rasped, causing her father to flinch and yet he did nothing to stop the older man talking, "stole millions from the D'onofrios. The only reason you're here was so he could avoid Sebastiano's wrath and get himself out of debt. You wouldn't have been harmed if Antonio disagreed, but he was too selfish to pay for his own crimes, allowed you to take the fall instead."

***

Marcello came to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the lounge as Liliana stormed past with a dark scowl encompassing her face. She didn't offer any explanation and didn't respond to him as he called after her, only marching off to what he assumed was their bedroom.

Suddenly feeling far less hospitably to their guests, Marcello stepped into the lounge with a hard glare already in place. Without pause he strode to Antonio's side and thrust the paperwork in front of his disgruntled face. He wouldn't allow him to stay here any longer if it was only going to upset Liliana further. He shouldn't have even been here in the first place. The man didn't deserve to ever see his daughter again.

Antonio Fiorenza would not be allowed to enter the property without invitation ever again.

"Sign it then leave." Marcello shoved a pen towards him and immediately ripped the contracts from Antonio's grubby fingers when the signature was complete. "Out," he growled, gesturing angrily towards the door. His fury pulsed through his veins and Marcello couldn't seem to control his anger. Every time he saw Antonio's rotten features he had to fight not to batter the man to death. He was a coward, a weakling unbefitting of the title 'father'.

Antonio was quick to his feet, but paused in the doorway, gaze nervously darting from Roderigo to Marcello.

"Roderigo?" Antonio called quietly, hands shaking at his sides.

"He's staying," Mercello snapped with no hesitation. Liliana's cousin had thought to contact Mercello before he arrived - something that had surpassed Antonio's capabilities - and requested to stay with them for the sake of his cousin. Mercello had been wary but ultimately couldn't afford for his marriage to suffer any more. He hoped with family to rely on, Liliana would eventually warm to him. They hadn't had a chance to speak after last night, he had no idea what she felt about their marriage, but he had a feeling he would need all the help he could get.

"What!" Antonio exclaimed, forgetting who he was speaking. "He's my nephew," he hissed. "I won't have him trapped here with the likes of you."

What a pathetic man. He was concerned for the likes of his nephew but disregarded his daughters safety without question. With slow steps Marcello stalked towards the cowering man, his shoulders tense and his jaw clenched. Inched from Antonio, Marcello leaned in close with a barely restrained snarl on his lips.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that," Mercello hissed venomously. "You have no power in this room over anyone, he will stay where he wants to and you will obey me till you die you pitiful mongrel."

Marcello enjoyed the sight of Antonio scrambling away in fear, the sound of the front door slamming behind him echoing throughout the entire house. Marcello didn't stay any longer, not caring whether Barbato remained in the manor or not. He had to check on Liliana. Someone else could show Roderigo to his room.

By the time he reached his room, Liliana was already tucked away under the bed sheets the lights to the room switched off and the curtains drawn. His brows furrowed as he ventured further into the room, daring to switch on one of the lamps.

"It's only nine," he stated when he realised she was still awake, but sulking, in their bed. Liliana didn't say anything at first, but after a brief pause she sighed and sat up. Her rose tinged eyes locked with his and he noted that her cheeks were damp with tears.

She had dressed for bed, and in her vest he had a clear view of her neck and the very dark love bites that bruised her skin. He probably should have felt shame at such a sight - he was twenty-four years old, leaving hickeys on her neck as if he were a horny sixteen year old boy. But there was a proud part of him that only felt satisfaction at the sight of her marked so thoroughly. There was no mistaking what had happened between them, regardless of if they had yet to acknowledge it.

"Has everyone left?" She worried her lower lips between her teeth and Mercello's attention was immediately captured by the small movement. Liliana noticed and scowled at him, a light blush colouring her cheeks.

"Your father's gone, Roderigo asked to stay. He's a few rooms down from us." Marcello moved to take a seat beside her in bed, kicking off his shoes and his legs stretched out across the mattress. "What was said while I was gone? What had you so upset?"

Liliana let out a short laugh, face pinching in pain.

"Like you care." Her drying eyes rolled and her chin jutted out in defiance.

Mercello cursed under his breath, shifting on the bed so that he could face her. "Why do you keep fighting me?" He tried to keep the irritation from his voice but it was no use. He was getting tired of her constant remarks.

"The minute I stop fighting you is the minute I accept this marriage. I can't give in like that, I can't let my father, or you, win." She shook her head as if tired with the conversation. Well he was getting tired of her attitude. "I can't let you believe that this lifestyle you've set for me is acceptable, restricting my education and controlling what and when I do things, that isn't a healthy relationship Mercello and I refuse to condone it."

How could she not see that this was all for her safety? As his wife she was constantly in danger, the threat of his enemies always present. If she worked or attended college, how could he protect her, look out for her in such crowded settings so far away from the manor and the people he trusted? All he wanted was to keep her alive, even if that meant she resented him for the rest of her life - it was better than her laying six feet under.

"I've allowed you to leave the manor as you please, but I can't let you leave without your guards," he stated simply, unsure of what else he could say.

"The guards are not the issue," Liliana hissed. "What do you expect me to do with my days? Just wander aimlessly around the city? I don't even have access to my bank accounts in this country. And I'm lonely Marcello, I don't know anyone, nor do I have the means to meet anyone."

"You know I didn't live freely in Italy, right? I was never allowed out without being escorted by guards then either. I was never allowed to date. I never socialised with people other than with friends of the family or those from school and work. And my only job was at the family restaurant. But I still had a life and I wasn't so alone all the damn time. I cannot just exist in this house, waiting for you to summon me, under the excuse of possibly threats. Surely you understand that I can't live like this?"

"I'm sorry you're trapped here with me. I'm sorry that your father took that choice away from you, truly," Mercello sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "But things can't get better until we stop fighting."

"I'm not the only one fighting here amore," she mocked, stubbornness colouring her tone as she speared him with her dark gaze. "A relationship isn't a dictatorship. That's not how it works. This isn't even a proper marriage, just an act for the world, and until you can learn to ease off with your domineering attitude I can't see us being even the slightest bit civil."

Liliana leant forward, rising from the bed sheets onto her knees as her body arched towards him. Her loose silk vest hung low around her chest and the scent of her perfume - moisturiser, whatever the hell it was - hit him hard. He hated to admit how his breath caught at their newfound proximity, how his head filled with illicit images of their bodies tangled together and how his body had reacted instantly.

He cursed himself when he realised she was only reaching for his bedside lamp. Of course she wasn't out to seduce him. Whatever had happened between them yesterday was no doubt long forgotten in her mind. A lapse of judgement on her part and nothing more.

They hadn't spoken once about their night together and he new it would be a long time before he was welcomed between her thighs again. They were encased in darkness no less than a second later and the sound of the bed sheets rustling kept him locked in his place.

It was only 9:00pm, he hadn't prepared for bed and he hadn't even eaten anything in the past nine hours. But he couldn't be bothered to move, and he sure as hell couldn't sleep. 'Well rested' was not something Marcello could call himself, sleep rarely came easy to him, and nothing had changed since Liliana's existence in his life. So he simply lay there in the dark, listening to the sound of Liliana's breaths even out, all too aware that he was no closer to ending the threats against Liliana.

What use was he, if he could not protect his wife against the dangers of his life? Why did he continue to fail so tremendously?



Q. Any re-readers here enjoying the changes to the story?