[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana stood comfortably at the edge of the expansive hall, feeling fierce in her entirely black ensemble. The black floor sweeping skirt, with a slit that climbed dangerously high, was light and comfortable and had her feeling oh-so powerful as she strut in her matching black heels. She had bought the outfit more than a year ago but had never dared to wear it until now. She knew the neckline meant that the faded bruises across her throat were visible for so many people to see but she didn't care. Let them whisper and speculate about her, the marks were evidence of her strength and her survival. She wouldn't be ashamed of them.

Before they had left her aunt's home, Marcello had made it perfectly clear just how much he approved of her outfit. As soon as she had emerged from their bathroom, he had been unable to look away, his eyes roving across her legs that appeared leaner and longer in her heels, to where her skirt hugged the curve of her hips and the exposed tanned skin of her midriff that her simple black top revealed. And as they entered her Valentino's home, his fingers had grazed that exposed skin as he curved an arm around her waist.

Her outfit would serve to do more than just distract her husband however. She wanted her grandfather to see that she was no longer the little girl that he knew. Liliana wanted him to see the women she had been forced to grow into due to the decisions of patriarchal figures who cared more for power than for family. She was a woman, a wife; not the daughter and granddaughter Valentino knew.

The number of guests here tonight astounded her. Liliana had not been included in such an event of Valentino's before, she had not known what to expect; usually she had stayed at home with her aunt, too young to be invited. At the time she had assumed her aunt had stayed behind to offer her company, she had not realised it was due to Adelina and Valentino's fraught relationship.

Everyone was dressed impeccably, in expensive tuxedos and luxurious gowns. Tonight, even Marcello was dressed in what seemed to be a tailored black tuxedo that fit him perfectly and accentuated his slim, muscular build. Why he had packed such a thing for their short trip, she wasn't sure, but it was a good thing he had.

While she had not attended one of Valentino's evening parties before, she had been in his mansion many times; tonight, however, would hopefully be the last. Most of the furniture in his grand hall had been cleared to make room for the extensive guest list, but some couches and chairs remained for those who preferred to sit and talk rather than work the room.

Her cousins had already greeted Valentino as soon as they had arrived, and Liliana couldn't understand how they must feel to work under such a man - a man who had caused their beloved mother such pain. She hoped, unlike most men in the mafia, they did not agree with Valentino's actions and his sexist treatment of his own daughter. Perhaps Marco was simply counting down the days until he could cease Valentino's position at the top?

While Marcello was stood at the temporary bar, collecting their drinks, Liliana was left to watch the room alone. No one approached her, though many openly stared, and she noticed those that surrounded her husband at the bar offered him a wide berth. But she didn't bother to watch Marcello and wait for his return, instead her focus was singled on Valentino as he spoke to a small group of men on the opposite side of the room. He had cast her numerous glances since their arrival but had yet to seek her out, and Liliana had refused to approach him.

After all she had learned from her Zia about her grandfather's character, she couldn't find an ounce of effort to care, she was no longer in a loving mood towards him. He had willingly allowed his own daughter and grandsons to live in an abusive household - he had pushed them into such a life. It was only with the murder of Adelina's husband that the family had been free from his tyranny. Liliana doubted very much that it was her grandfather who had pulled the trigger. If it was her grandfather who had condemned his daughter to such a fate, Liliana saw no reason as to why he would free her from it.

She was beginning to find she didn't want to speak to her grandfather much at all, however improbable that seemed while she was attending his party. In fact, she wasn't sure how much she would care if she never saw him again. She had truly grown so very tired of being constantly disappointed by so many men, it felt as if she were now becoming numb to it.

"Your drink," Marcello murmured in her ear, coming up beside her with a tall stemmed glass outstretched, the pink liquid inside swirling at the rim. Liliana tried not to startle at his appearance; she had been completely lost in staring at Valentino and musing over her new opinion of him that she had not noticed his return.

"Thank you," she uttered, attention still very much fixed on her grandfather. Her fingers wrapped around the cool glass gently, sipping on the fruit juice slowly. She wouldn't be drinking tonight - or for the next nine months for that matter.

She knew she would have to tell Mercello soon. This morning, an appointment with her aunt's private doctor had confirmed her pregnancy. There was no more praying for otherwise; she would have to face the truth of it, and Marcello had to know - any more secrets between them could be poisonous to any progress they were making. The best time to tell him, she had decided, would be while they were still here in Italy surrounded by the support of her aunt and cousins. Liliana would much rather have them by her side than Marcello's brothers.

"You're watching him as if you're preparing yourself for a fight." Mercello's arm curved around her waist, his whole body leaning into her. His hand laid flat against her stomach, fingers grazing her bare skin, and Liliana's heart thumped heavily in her chest. "Like a predator circling it's prey, ready to strike."

She didn't feel like a predator, not wrapped up in her husbands arms, fretting over the thing currently growing inside of her. Weak knees and a racing pulse were not symptoms of a powerful woman. She couldn't stop the panic that encompassed her in her husbands company, or for that matter, the thrumming arousal. He looked almost edible in his suit, and she was reminded so succinctly of their night together just over three weeks - even if she couldn't stop thinking about the consequences of it. She only hoped he hadn't not noticed her strange behaviour, or at the very least her reason for it, as he had been studying her all night.

Gulping, she uttered, "I'm preparing myself for an inevitable confrontation." One glance at her husband confirmed he was indeed still watching her with a terrifying intensity. His mouth drew flat; he knew something was wrong, of course he did. Marcello was not a stupid man, and she had realised he was highly perceptive of her moods as of late.

Did he have any suspicions of her pregnancy?

"And what is there to confront?" He wisely didn't ask who there was to confront, that much was clear with the fierce stare she directed across the room - towards the man who was seemingly avoiding her despite the silent taunt she was sending his way.

"I'm slowly realising that all the men in my family that I used to hold in such high esteem are really just such... awful people." It was hard not to sound so defeated. But it grew impossible not to let disappointment after disappointment affect her.

"Even your cousins?" Mercello's arm tightened around her, as if to protect her from the thought of any possible threat. Liliana's lips pursed as she found her cousins in the crowd, they were still stood together - though Gavino had found someone to flirt with while the rest of the boys spoke amongst themselves. They were just as sociable as herself and Marcello, barely paying mind to anyone else at the party.

"No, not yet." Marcello paused, as if thinking her words over before he decided what next to say. It felt strange admitting out loud that she feared her cousins could follow the same path as the rest of the male figures in her life.

"You suspect they could be?"

"They work for my grandfather, they're privy to more information than I ever will be - especially now my position has changed. How can I know who to trust when my own instincts have failed me time and time again?" She asked bitterly, not expecting an answer and not waiting for one. "Valentino knew," Liliana's voice was thick, "He knew who Zia Adelina's husband was and he didn't care. He allowed that monster to hurt my family."

Marcello didn't react to her revelation at all. She supposed that meant he already knew the nature of Adelina's volatile marriage. She shouldn't be surprised, time and time again it had been proven just how entwined their two families were. It would be more surprising, had he not already known.

"You have to place your trust in someone." Marcello's words were soft spoken, and, dare she say, hopeful. She didn't allow herself to dwell on the true meaning behind his words though, not here in her grandfather's home where she had to steel herself against Valentino's scrutiny.

"My cousins love me and care for me greatly, I do trust them but... but professionally I know they can't be our allies while Valentino still governs them." She shivered, and Liliana wasn't sure if it was a result of her dark thoughts or the feel of Marcello's face so close to her own, his breath brushing against her bare neck. She allowed herself only a couple of seconds to relax in his arms, and bask in the feeling of his hands stroking gentle circles against the inch of bare skin at her midriff, before Liliana turned in his arms to gage his reaction, and to create a distance between them to ensure she could think clearly. It was easy to get lost in his comfort, she'd realised. Whilst here in Italy, he was now so free to offer affection, to the point at which she had begun to desire it.

Marcello's expression remained impassive, though the slight twitching of an eyebrow conveyed his surprise well enough to her. His hold on her loosened, though he kept his hands loosely on her hips, refusing to relinquish all physical contact.

"You think your grandfather is my enemy? Despite the alliance of our marriage? Despite Antonio, having worked for my father for decades?"

"Valentino doesn't play by the same rules as Antonio. Despite knowing him to be loving and kind towards me as a child, he is a ruthless man; I've just never truly understood the extent of that until this week. If he can treat his own family so callously, I don't doubt that his callousness can extend to your family as well." Liliana shrugged. "It's possible he views you as a threat against his empire, more so now that a faction of his family has proven to be weak."

From across the room Valentino ended his conversation and finally turned to stare at Liliana, this time meeting not just her eyes but Mercello's too. From the stiffness of her husband's body around hers, she knew Mercello's gaze would not be forgiving, she knew he had summoned just as much distaste in his expression as she had. Valentino did not react to their duality and he did not turn from them.

Liliana's chest ached at the challenge issued between them, and it was only when she noticed the swift movement of her eldest cousin that her attention shifted. She watched as Marco stalked towards their grandfather, face stony as he feverishly grabbed Valentino by the arm and uttered something into his ear. Valentino gave no emotion away as he watched his grandson leave the hall, and soon followed afterwards.

"What do you think they're discussing?" Liliana murmured. Her eyes followed Valentino's retreating figure intently.

"Whatever it is, I don't believe they'll be back soon."

***

Liliana had grown tired of standing around Valentino's grand hall, being the subject of so many people's curiosity, and had navigated over to some of the plush seating in the corner of the room. As soon as they had approached, those that occupied the other chairs had quickly fled, no doubt the sight of her scowling husband prompting such an action.

For once, Liliana found herself thankful for his deadly reputation of a short-tempered, dangerous mafioso. They had been on the receiving the interest of other guests all night. Some were brave another to approach, but Marcello's abrupt, monotonous responses and hard stare was enough encouragement for them to quickly leave them alone. Liliana found it irritating to be the centre of so much attention, and she wanted nothing more than to be back at her aunts house; it was clear from Marcello's behaviour that he felt the same way.

Liliana released that, as this was their first time in Italy, socialising together in public, they were bound to be the subject of so much curiosity. While Antonio and Sebastiano had always been seen as allied, now that Marcello was at the head of the D'Onofrio name, it was their marriage that had secured a new, far stronger, alliance between the D'Onofrio's and the Italian based Fiorenza's - Valentino and her cousins.

It was not hard, she realised, to fall into the act of besotted husband an wife as was required. Marcello felt like her only life-line here in Valentino's home, the only person she wished to spend any of her time with at all. Here, Marcello was her only true ally; his presence proved to be a great comfort to her, and she knew she could rely on him tonight should she need it.

Mercello sat in one of the large chairs, his knees apart in a classic cocky, overtly male position. He was in the role of a powerful mafiosa, a man who could not be challenged. A man that, had he not been her husband, she would have avoided.

He tugged on her hands, pulling her between his legs to sit on one of his thighs. The position seemed intimate for a public setting, clearly displaying the level of their relationship to everyone in the room. Stiff where she sat, her heart was racing furiously. Mercello's left hand rested on her bare knee, Liliana's legs exposed from the split in her skirt, as she lent into him.

The new position certainly earned them prolonged stares and hushed whispers.

"Perhaps we should leave," Liliana muttered, looking at her husband beneath her lashes as she spoke quiet enough that only he could here her. Her hand lifted from where it rested against his shoulder, her fingers brushing against the thick, short hair at the nape of his neck. She could of sworn she felt him shiver beneath her, his eyes holding hers with focus.

"Don't let them get to you, everyone here is an intrusive bastardo that will learn to watch themselves if they don't wish for me to intervene." His voice was rough and lower than usual.

A smirk curved at the corners of her lips. Liliana scanned the room to see guests engaged in conversation, still taking moments to glance their way. Did they really have nothing better to do than watch her and Marcello?

"I could care less about these strangers," she chuckled. "I just don't see the point in being here anymore. Valentino hasn't come to speak to us, or acknowledge our presence in Italy. If he doesn't want to bother with me anymore because of my marriage to you then that's fine."

"Is it?"

Liliana paused. Marcello was watching her intently, just as he had been for the past day. He was concerned, she knew that much. He could tell she was keeping things from him, even if he didn't know what she was keeping from him.

Soon... He would know soon.

"It's surprising how easy it is to let go of the people that once meant so much to me." When you start to understand that not everyone is who they present themselves to be.

Mercello frowned, hand stroking from her knee to thigh gently. Heat coursed through her. Liliana swallowed harshly, trying her best to ignore her pulsing arousal. Mercello had only ever touched her in such a way for show, but from the way he was looking at her, she knew he now had different intentions.

"You don't have to... put on a front with me," he assured softly, his fingers never quitting their torturous ascent higher and higher up her thigh. How far would he go with so many people watching them? "You can still be sad to lose your grandfather... your father, even if you think they're terrible people. It's still a loss."

"I'm stronger than I look." Her hand slid from the back of his neck so her arm was resting against his shoulders, and her side was pressed tightly against his. Sitting like this was surprisingly comfortable.

"I know," Mercello murmured with a smile, squeezing her leg. "But no one is so strong every second of the day. Everyone has their weaknesses."

"Even you?" Liliana teased, though her heart wasn't in it. Marcello was being so open and honest with her. She was thrown off and as much as she relished in the new intimacy they had begun to explore, she was so very aware of the countless strangers and her family members that surrounded them.

"Everyone."

Liliana remembered when Marcello had been so distraught that he had needed her help and comfort. He had broken down in front of her with no qualms about what she would think of him, lost in the pain of his deceased mother. He had needed her and he had not hidden it. Even she had needed his support and strength after the attack, and he had been more than willing and attentive enough to provide it.

"Thank you-" Liliana began before she noticed Federico and Gavino moving their way. Her cousins seemed fierce stalking through the crowd, commanding the attention of those they passed. The youngest of the Fiorenza men staying true to the stoic reputation they had earned over the years - nothing like their true personalities.

Gavino rolled his eyes when he noticed the position Liliana and Marcello were in, and where Mercello's hands were resting. His jaw clenched as Federico muttered something to him. Nevertheless, Gavino kept his mouth shut when they sat down in the opposing chairs, refraining from commenting his very clear distaste.

"I hate these things," he grumbled instead, under his breath.

"You're just sour you're not at a stupid party cosying up to girls," Federico snickered in response, shoving Gavino's shoulder playfully. Liliana sniggered alongside him, and even Marcello managed to crack a small, barely noticeable smile. She wondered if Gavino ever reminded Marcello of Angelo.

"It's better than this, the room here is dead, I was falling asleep over at the bar."

"What's Marco talking to nonno about?" Liliana asked her cousin, interrupting Gavino, after she noticed Federico glancing towards the large double doors for the third time since he had sat down.

"I don't know," Federico shrugged, but there was a frown marring his features. Liliana was certain the reason for Marco and Valentino's discussion was related to her own discussion with her eldest cousin, and the truth he still had to confirm. There wasn't time to question Federico and Gavino further however, as a second later Marco and Valentino finally re-appeared. From where Liliana was sitting she could see Marco scanning the room before he spotted the four of them clustered in the corner of the hall. Marco made his way over to them while, unfortunately, Valentino followed.

Beneath her Marcello shifted, muttering, "I'll get us another drink."

Was he running at the sight of Valentino? Or providing her with privacy to speak with her grandfather?

Gavino and Federico were also quick to their feet, all but scrambling away from their oncoming grandfather. Cowards. Liliana was left to face Valentino alone - as Marco had veered towards the bar as soon as his younger brothers had. Liliana rose to her feet to meet the stone-faced old man just in time.

"I see you brought Marcello with you," Valentino commented, coming to a stop in front of her, with an amused smile that curved at the edges of his mouth. His eyes were trained on Liliana's husband who was muttering something to her cousins at the bar.

"You almost sound disappointed there, Nonno." It was hard not to spit her words at him, hard to keep the sneer from her lips and instead plaster them with a polite sweetness that tasted vile.

"I'm surprised. Last I saw of you, you hated the man and this marriage. You've done well to hide your distaste." Something about his tone told Liliana that her grandfather did not like that fact. He assumed it was an act she was playing, and perhaps she would have agreed just a few days ago; but not now.

"I followed your advice Nonno. I have endured, and I am doing as is expected of me. This is what is expected of me, isn't it?" To adhere to my husbands every whim? To quiet myself in the presence of others? To become a demure mafia wife he does not ask questions and allows her husband to treat her however he wants? She could not say all of that aloud though, she could not allude to her aunt's abusive marriage so bluntly and so publicly to Valentino. It was in her best interest to stay on Valentino's good side. Her grandfather was smart though, and no doubt heard the unspoken dig regardless.

"I heard you've been in contact with Alessandro Barbato. You're spending significant time with him alone. Does your husband know?" A seemingly innocent question that was full of threats. And it seemed Valentino was keeping tabs on her.

"Marcello knows everything," Liliana warned with a wry grin masking her concern. It was a lie, but enough to taunt him. She would leave the rest to Valentino's imagination. "There's little I can do without him knowing, as it should be," she lied again, her sexist words tasting foul.

Too soon they were joined by Marco and Marcello. Liliana's youngest cousins were nowhere to be seen. Marcello was quick to stand as close to Liliana as possible, not beside her but a step behind. He was so close that the fabric of his tux' brushed against her back, and his chin grazed her hair. If Valentino was surprised by Marcello's positioning, of which Liliana knew was wholly intentional, he didn't show it. Liliana was no meek counterpart to Marcello D'Onofrio, and her husband wanted Valentino to know that.

Marco chose to stand beside the couple, facing Valentino. Whatever they had discussed behind closed doors, Marco was not here to take their nonno's side.

A new drink was passed to Liliana, a glass of orange juice, and Valentino watched the interaction between husband and wife with keen eyes.

"You're not drinking?" Valentino's attention felt intrusive, mocking. There was a question in his tone that no one else picked up on, she hoped. But Liliana stiffened. Perhaps she was just being paranoid.

Marcello's hand found its way to her hip, the heat of his hand reminding her that he was there as he spoke, "My wife doesn't like to drink much, she's far more sensible than I'll ever be."

If Marcello understood what Valentino had been hinting at, he didn't let it show.

"Of course." Valentino bared a tight-lipped smile. "Liliana has always been sensible, and the most thoughtful of all my grandchildren."

This was all so very uncomfortable. The sweetness of her drink did nothing to combat the bitterness on her tongue. The height of her heels no longer had her feeling strong and powerful, but exhausted and aching. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to suffer through such uncomfortable socialising. She had other things to concern herself with, more pressing issues she had to work out.

***

Marcello and Liliana travelled back to her aunt's home lone, soon after they had spoken to Valentino. Her cousins had stayed behind, they had to, according to Marco; a requirement of their still existing role under their grandfather's thumb.

Liliana and Marcello sat opposite one another in the limo, Liliana bent over in her seat as she struggled to unbuckled the dainty strap on her heels. If she wore them for one more minute, she was convinced her feet would simply fall off.

"Do you need help?" Marcello enquired quietly, leaning towards her just as she finally managed to snap free the clasp of her left heel, sighing at the immediate relief.

"Thank you," Liliana muttered as Mercello grasped her right leg and brought it up onto his lap as he removed the second heel. A soft groan escaped immediately, especially as his fingers began to massage her foot. She had rarely known him to be so gentle other than in a few delicate situations, but Liliana relished in his attention.

She was so tired, but she knew the drive back to Adelina's was over an hour long. However, the longer Marcello soothed the ache in her feet the harder Liliana found it to keep her eyes open, until he stopped abruptly, and moved to sit next to her.

"Lay down if you want, I'll wake you up when we get back," Marcello assured, an arm coming to rest around her shoulders as she leaned into him. Liliana didn't respond other than to close her eyes and rest her head in the crook of his arm.

When she awoke again it was to Marcello nudging her slightly. With sluggish movements she sat up straight, freeing Marcello from her weight as she yawned and tugged the top of her outfit back into the right position from which her chest had been dangerously close to spilling out. The door to the limo opened from the outside and Marcello stepped out, her heels in his hand as he gestured them towards her.

"I can't put them back on," she murmured, voice cracking from sleep. Her feet still ached terribly and she refused to cause herself more unnecessary pain. "I'll be fine with bare feet."

But when Liliana joined Mercello outside of their limo, just metres from Adelina's front door, Mercello was quick to sweep her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she squealed, hands clutching tightly to the lapels of his jacket at the sudden movement.

"You're tired and the ground is wet, I'll carry you inside." The smirk that curled across his lips quickened the pace of her heart as he strode towards the door as if she weighed nothing in his arms. Something he would not be able to do in a few months when she was bursting at the seams. It was only a moment that he carried her, until they were just inside the door, but Liliana still felt the burning heat of her cheeks as he gently placed her back onto her feet and shut the door behind them.

That evening, Liliana and Marcello entered their bedroom together - something unusual for them considering how often they had fought and Marcello's late night schedules. It felt somewhat strange to ready for bed at the same time; she opted to change into her pyjamas in the bathroom after a quick shower, still not entirely comfortable with undressing in front of him despite the fact that Marcello clearly did not have the same issues, and that he had already seen her naked before.

When she returned to their bedroom, Marcello had not even begun to change, perched on the edge of the mattress on his phone. It wasn't until she was in bed, that he took off his jacket, folded it neatly on her vanity before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Liliana's mouth was dry as she forced herself to look away and not ogle Marcello as he slowly revealed his tones torso.

Minutes passed and Liliana could still hear him shifting around the room, and the opening of their wardrobe. What the hell was he doing?

When she turned back to look at him, Marcello was stood in only his underwear, setting out his clothes for the next day. She tried her best not to stare at the muscled expanse of his exposed back, but she couldn't, not until Marcello finally turned to face her and she was forced to meet his gaze. Marcello was smirking, clearly delighting in having caught her ogling. For once Liliana didn't blush. She met his gaze without wavering, noticing as the tilt of his lips dropped when it became apparent she would not share his smile. Instead, without even trying to hide it, she allowed her eyes to wander and take in every single inch of him.

Marcello moved towards the bed slowly, cast in a warm glow from their bedside lamp. None of his previous humour was found in his expression.

"We only have three more days in Italy before we have to leave," was all he said, tersely, as he pulled back the bedsheets. Liliana didn't need the reminder of how little time she had left to confess to Marcello about the pregnancy if she wished to do so in the company of her family. But she didn't want to think or talk about that right now. She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted, and she should act upon this desire that pulsed within her, the same desire that had been slowly growing all evening.

"I'm sure my aunt would not be opposed to visiting us next time." Liliana swallowed heavily, aware of the falsity of their conversation. She didn't care how much longer they had in Italy, she didn't care how they were to spend their next three days. Was Marcello filling the space between them with meaningless conversation, something to distract from whatever message he could read in her body language?

They were facing each other in bed, close enough that Liliana could feel the heat of her husbands body, but still so far apart it was all she could think of. It was all she could do not to close the gap between them. Here in bed with her, Marcello seemed so soft, so relaxed, none of his usual sharp edges present. He had been so attentive to her these past few days, so concerned, so open with her.

"If you want to spend some time alone with your family, I can keep my distance until it's time for us to leave."

"Thank you, but you don't have to do that," Liliana whispered, fingers flexing from where her hand rested on the mattress between them - itching to close the distance but not daring. "I... I'm enjoying your company." It was possibly the nicest thing she had ever said to him. It was true though; when faced with the company of her grandfather, or her cousins when they were feeling particularly brutish and eager for a fight, she found she much preferred Marcello's company.

Marcello smiled only slightly, one of his hands brushing across her cheek and resting there.

"You should get some sleep, it's late." Her cousin's had not returned yet but Liliana knew they were used to the late nights, much like Marcello. It was surprising he had retired to bed with her rather than spending a few more hours on his laptop or phone, keeping up with his busy schedule or catching up with his brothers.

Liliana's own hand landed on top of his, moving to gently kiss the inside of his palm as she uttered a soft, "Goodnight."

But with the way they were looking at each, it seemed unlikely that they were to fall asleep any time soon. Marcello leaned to kiss her brow, lips just brushing against her face as he repeated the phrase back to her, his voice thick. Liliana's eyes were wide, and she was breathless as she waited for either of them to make the next move.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Far less than usual." Mercello's voice was nothing but a whisper.

Silence settled between them as Liliana's gaze dropped to his lips. That pulsing desire that had began at Valentino's manor, under the caress of Marcello's hands, now consumed her in the privacy of their bedroom. She wanted her husband; possibly for the first time she wanted him in a way that was more than just a superficial attraction.

Ignoring the furious beating of her heart, Liliana shifted closer until her body grazed his. Marcello's breath stuttered.

His lips dipped towards hers, pressing against her slanted mouth softly at first, as if questioning, hesitant, until her hand cup his cheek and held him to her. She kissed him back, just as soft, just as hesitant, abundantly aware that this was wholly different than any time they had kissed before.

Their embrace grew more heated, their affections growing more eager as hands caressed more feverishly and kisses became heavier. Marcello was on top of her now, hips pressed into hers as Liliana's arms wrapped around his neck to hold him close.

"We should stop," Mercello groaned, lips trailing from her mouth and down her neck. He was slowly pulling back, much to Liliana's disappointment.

"I don't want to." She was panting, breathless. Nevertheless, her hands slipped from around his neck allowing him to create space between them. Liliana locked eyes with Marcello, biting her lower lip as she asked, "Do you want to stop?"

"No." Marcello replied quickly, shaking his head. His knees framed her hips, forearms resting against the mattress either side of her. He leant into her, forehead pressed against hers as they stared wide eyed at one another.

"Then we don't have to," Liliana uttered, chin lifting to kiss him once again. "I want this, I want you-"

Marcello's mouth claimed hers quickly and heavily before she could say anything else, drawing a moan from between her parted lips as his tongue found hers. His hands returned to their torturous teasing, slipping down to her thighs and gripping them tightly as his hips rolled and created a delicious friction between them. This time Marcello didn't pull back as they kissed, not as Liliana's own hands began to dance across his toned back, and she held his body tight to hers, her hips writhing beneath his.

***

Marcello was reposed. With Liliana asleep and wrapped in his arms, he didn't dare move in the chance that this reality shattered. It was almost unbelievable to him, that Liliana had allowed him to be so close to her. Liliana wanted him. She was now far from hating him as she had once been. He hadn't realised until tonight just how much he had desired such a thing from her.

He hoped come morning she would have no regrets. He couldn't stand to be pushed back once again after another yet breakthrough. They were making progress now, finally, when he allowed himself to relinquish all control over every aspect of his own life, when he allowed himself to care for others without fear of it being destroyed, or destroying him.

A light knock on their bedroom door jolted Marcello out of his reverie.

"Yes?" Marcello called out quietly, so as not to wake Liliana, ensuring that they were both covered by the thin bedsheets.

He shifted, sitting up as one hand reached towards the bedside table where his gun lay, just as the bedroom door was pushed open. Mercello's tense body relaxed when he realised it was Marco who had disturbed him.

He felt far too exposed under Marco's eyes, bare chest on show as he lay next to his sleeping wife.

"What is it?" Marcello asked gruffly, not in the mood for any pleasantries. Politeness was never in question with the Fiorenza's, especially not when they were interrupting him when he was most vulnerable.

"I need to talk to you." Marco was scowling as he glanced between Mercello and Liliana. From how the bedsheets lay across Liliana's body it was clear she was without a shirt. He seemed just as displeased as Mercello about the conversation that was about to ensue, despite being the one to pursue it.

"I'll be out in a minute. I'm not dressed." Mercello couldn't help but taunt the eldest Fiorenza as he dismissed him. Marco's displeasure over Mercello's relationship with his cousin was laughable. All the Fiorenza boys needed to mature if these were the issues that bothered them the most.

Easing himself out of the bed as carefully as he could, Marcello was relieved when Liliana remained undisturbed. He quickly grabbed his black trousers that he had worn that evening, pulling them on without caring that the rest of him remained exposed. Marco had already seen him at his most vulnerable. When Mercello emerged he found Marco waiting outside the bedroom door.

So they were to have the conversation in the hallway?

"What is it?" He asked snappishly, in a hissed whisper.

Marco's expression was stern, arms crossed against his chest, and he was still dressed from the party. Marcello had no idea what time it was but he knew it was late. Had they only just returned? Or had Marco been awake by himself for a few hours fretting over whatever he deemed important enough to share with him at this ridiculous time?

"Antonio told Liliana that her mother killed herself." Marco paused, apparently waiting for some kind of a reaction from Marcello. He frowned when there wasn't one.

"And?" Marcello snapped, still bitter at being roused from his bed.

Marco paused, the first sign of his faltering since Marcello had been in the Fiorenza household. "You don't know either?"

"Know what?" Mercello hated not being in control of the conversation, especially when he was made to feel clueless.

"Emilliana Fiorenza didn't kill herself," Marco explained, shaking his head, "she was murdered. I'm going to tell Liliana everything I know but I thought you should be there when I did, I don't know how she's going to take this."

Marcello had no idea how his wife would react to this news. Antonio had lied to her one too many times already and he knew from first hand experience how unforgiving his wife could be, but he feared this would be the final thing to push her past breaking point.

"She's going to be furious."



Where have I been for so long? At university (I'm terrible at multitasking)!!!

My writing feels a bit out of practice so hopefully you guys like this chapter.

Happy New Year everyone!

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[20/07/21] Yes, okay, you were robbed again. But the truth is I just don't like writing full sex scenes. I do have another book on my profile (Outliers) with max 2 sex scenes, but I honestly find them so hard to write.