Liliana glared at her Roderigo as soon as he stepped into the lounge of her new home - Barbato's home - with blood staining his clothes. The rest of her cousins were all here in the house somewhere and had been for weeks, and her aunt had arrived only a few days ago, but Marco was the only one currently sat in the lounge with her when Roderigo finally made his appearance. How long had it been since she'd last seen him? She couldn't even remember at this point.

"You dick," Liliana cursed at him instinctively, just the sight of his bruised face enough to incite her anger. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Marco somehow managed to only seem slightly surprise by her words - though his surprise was conveyed only by the slight raising of an eyebrow as he turned to look at her. In a typical Marco fashion, he kept any thoughts he had to himself.

To Roderigo's credit, he had the intelligence to seem mildly wary, holding his hands up innocently as he stepped further into the room.

"Liliana-"

"Why didn't you respond to any of my messages? I thought you were dead. The last I knew you'd gone out with Mar and his brothers and then you never returned! You're such an ass-"

Roderigo's eyes widened a fraction, and he quickly looked towards Marco as if for help. Marco, smartly, did not intervene.

"All you needed to do was send me a short text. You were the only one I reached out to after the wedding, the only one I had seen since Belize, and then you just up and left without a single word! What the hell Rigo?"

"Did D'Onofrio not tell you what I was doing?"

If possible, Liliana's anger doubled. She felt as if flames were about to burst forth from her ears, as her whole upper body flushed.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?" She hissed, her upper lip curling into a snarl. "I sent you so many texts."

"I hardly check my phone when I'm doing a job," Roderigo explained weakly.

"Bullshit." There was no doubt in her mind that Roderigo had kept in contact with both Marco and Marcello throughout his entire disappearance. How could he not if he were supposedly working with the D'Onofrio's? "What have you even been doing all this time? Valentino died over two weeks ago-"

"I've been cleaning up lose ends." That was all he said, in that gruff, detached voice of his. Liliana's stomach rolled, and she eyed the old and fresh blood stains that ruined his clothes. The dark bruises that had formed on his face were at least a few days old.

Liliana didn't know who usually held such a role amongst the D'Onofrio family, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was one of the two brothers now currently indisposed by their injuries, one of the men that had died in the attack, or one of the many traitors that had sided with Dino D'Onofrio and Valentino Fiorenza. The fact that Roderigo, a man who hated the D'Onofrio's, had been working with her husband for the past few weeks had Liliana lost for words, even if Marcello had already told her so.

Before anything else could be said, Marcello entered the room with a large tray of food in his hands. His movements were slow and stiff and her scowl was instantaneous as she eyed her stupid, thoughtful husband and redirected all of her anger towards him. She didn't dare scold him for placing strain on his injuries in front of her cousins, however. Her husband was a proud man, and while she had no problem snapping at him in the privacy of their bedroom, or even the company of his own brothers, she would not embarrass him in front of her family. The gleam in his eyes as he stared right back with an impassive expression revealed Marcello knew just as much she wanted to yell at him.

He didn't greet Marco or Roderigo, or Liliana for that matter, taking his place beside her on the sofa in silence. He had the intelligence to pass her the tray of food before he attempted to sit down though, much to her relief.

When he was settled, he shifted the tray on his lap, and Liliana immediately curled into his side, reaching for a piece of sliced fruit. The plates on it were positively overflowing with food - from breakfast pastries to bacon and sliced ham - and Liliana knew that the D'Onofrio chef had prepared the feast for them upon Marcello's request.

Over the past few days Marcello had been religiously bringing her food and eating all his meals with her. He was never satisfied until she had eaten what he deemed to be an acceptable amount.

"Don't forget your pills," he reminded her in a deep voice, gesturing to the collection of pre-natal vitamins that sat in a tiny dish in the corner. Already he was passing her a glass of water. They both continued to eat together in silence, Liliana's cheek pressed against the swell of Marcello's bicep as she relaxed into him, her anger towards Roderigo forgotten.

They had become closer in these past few days.

When she glanced up towards her cousins, Marco was paying no attention as he read on his phone, and Roderigo... Roderigo was staring at her as if she had grown a third leg. It was maybe the most emotion she had ever seen on her older cousins face before - other than anger - and the sight of his wide-eyed, slack jawed expression had a bubble of laughter escaping.

She felt something brush softly against her temple, and turned to find Marcello gazing at her softly, the corners of his lips quirked up ever so slightly. In the typical, arrogant way of his, he hadn't once acknowledged either of the other two men in the room.

"Have you eaten enough?" He asked, gesturing to the now near empty tray. Liliana nodded, a warm smile curling across her mouth when Marcello's hand came to rest on soft curve of her stomach. "No morning sickness?"

"What the fuck." The words were uttered in a quiet hiss from Roderigo who was practically hanging off the edge of his seat as he stared at the both of them incredulously.

Liliana arched an eyebrow in his direction.

"You're pregnant?"

Liliana blinked at him.

"You didn't know?"

"No."

"No one told you?" Liliana looked towards Marco who... still wasn't paying any attention to them. Not even as Roderigo turned to his older brother accusatorily, his nostrils flaring.

"What the fuck!" He hissed again, reaching out to hit the back of his hand against Marco's thigh. "Why didn't you call or text me?"

Liliana snorted, grumbling, "Hypocrite," under her breath. "Enjoy your argument, I'm going to go see Zia. Ignore my texts again Rigo and I'll make you regret it."

***

"Do you want to talk now?" Marco's voice came from behind her, and she turned to find him lingering in the doorway of Barbato's library. It was a small, cosy room that had a large fireplace and high arching, gothic style windows. Heavy curtains of prussian blue had been draw closed and only the light of the fire kept the room alight as Liliana listened to music by herself. She often found herself retreating to this room when she wanted to be alone, or Marcello and she wished for some privacy outside of their bedroom.

This was the first time any of her cousins had approached her while in here.

"Talk about what?" Liliana curled back into her position in the large, leather armchair - the one she had brought with her from the D'Onofrio manor. It had been the one and only piece of furniture she'd requested in the move. She closed her eyes, still listening to the soft classical music, and enjoying the warmth pulsing from the fire against the side of her face.

"Your mother."

Liliana tried not to stiffen, but it was a failed attempt. Her mouth was tight when she asked, "I suppose its an inevitable conversation."

"No necessarily." Marco's voice grew closer. The old sofa that had belonged to Barbato creaked and Liliana knew her eldest cousin had taken a seat. "If you decide so, we don't ever had to discuss this. But you had wanted to know the truth when we were in Italy."

Liliana sighed. "I want to know."

She could almost feel Marco's hesitation and for a second she wanted to turn around and wring her cousins neck. He was the one that had approached her with this for the second time in a week, and yet he was hesitating? Whatever it was that he had to tell her, Liliana had surmised that it was bad. Despite knowing this, she didn't change her mind. She wanted to know. She needed to know.

It would be almost impossible for her to find closure over this if she spent the rest of her life questioning the truth of the situation.

"Marco-"

"Your mother was shot." Liliana's chest tightened inexplicably, and the pain she felt in that second was agony. "She was shot in the D'Onofrio's home, by Gabriella D'Onofrio."

"I see," Liliana said in what she had hoped was an even tone, but even to her ears it sounded weak.

"Liliana-"

"Don't," she cut Marco off, her words sharper than she intended. She didn't need to know anything else. She didn't need the details, or need to know why Gabriella had gone to such lengths - only Gabriella herself would know that. "Just... I need to be alone. Leave... Please."

She heard Marco sigh, but it wasn't until another minute had passed that she finally heard him move. Had he stayed any longer, he would have witnessed her flood of tears and heard the sobs that shook her entire body.

Marcello was the one that found her, still in the library when the last of the fires embers were moments from dying. She wasn't crying, not anymore, but her eyes were swollen, her throat tight, and the skin of her cheeks were dry and itchy.

Her husband eased himself into a kneeling position with a grunt, and his hand found it's place against her hair, stroking her softly.

"Tell me what you want to happen."

"What?" Liliana asked, her voice hoarse. Her eyebrows furrowed into a frown as she blinked up at her scowling, hard face husband. There was unmistakable anger in his expression, and in his tone.

"Tell me what you want to happen to that putanna, and I will make it happen," Marcello assured in a low voice. He brought his face closer and pressed his forehead against hers. "You say the word and she will be dealt with."

Something in her chest swelled at his words, and the love and worry so clear present in them. Liliana was shaking her head instantly, wetting her lips with her tongue.

"What about your father?" This was his wife they were speaking of after all, the estranged wife of Sebastiano D'Onofrio. The man who had not yet returned to America to visit the three sons who had nearly died.

"I don't give as shit about my father. I don't care about the rules it breaks, or the message it will send to others. Reputation be damned."

Liliana swallowed a knot in her throat. She lowered her gaze to his mouth - that mouth that had arranged itself into a straight, thin line. The mouth that could kiss her so softly, just as easily as it could threaten to kill someone on her behalf. He would do anything for her, she realised, that was how much he loved her.

And because she loved him so very much in return, she would never ask him to place anymore distance on the already strenuous relationships he had with his family.

"She's a wretched woman and I have no doubt her demise will be of her own doing. I want no part in it," Liliana said, her voice shaking. "I refuse to reduce myself to her level. I don't want to ever hear her name, or see her face again. She will have no part in my life, or our child's life."

"Okay," Marcello murmured, forehead still pressed to hers, staring right into her eyes. "Okay."

His eyes were so open, so honest, that Liliana could hardly believe the man crouched before her was the same man she had married not that long ago. But he was not that man anymore - not to her; he was no longer the man who would not meet her eyes, who held her at a distance just as much as she did him. They were two people who had been scared by their upbringing, both forced into a life that did it's very best to destroy them. Neither of them had known how to act, or how to form any semblance of a healthy relationship given the circumstances. They had fought endlessly, and it had been so painful at times. Even now that pain had not dissipated entirely - they had so much to work through together, but they would. She would make sure of it.

Liliana wasn't sure there was anyone who could understand her more than her husband, who could love her the way she needed to be loved by him. She only hoped she could be that same force of strength for Marcello, and offer all the love and comfort he needed in return.



I said I would write an epilogue and I did (even if it took me literal years - sorry guys!). Don't worry, I also have some bonus chapters in the works that I hope to post sometime within the next month.

On another note, I have started posting a new romance on Wattpad/Inkitt so if you like how I write and want to check out more of my work please go to my profile and check it out. It's called Sparring Partners.