Liliana and Marcello had been married for just over nine months now.

That meant, of course, that Liliana was now so pregnant that the sight of her own feet was but a distant memory.  All of her clothes, the maternity ones that might as well have all been shapeless rags at this point, barely fit her. She was unable to put her own socks on in the morning, and putting on any shoes that required laces was just as much of an impossibility.

That night, she'd even had to have Angelo help her into bed - a bed that Liliana hadn't realised until she was too pregnant, was far too low. Marcello - her husband - was usually the one to help her with such things, but she hadn't seen him all evening. Except for right this moment, just as she was about to switch off the bedside lamp and go to sleep.

"Why won't you look at me?" she asked him, eyebrows knitting together as she watched her husband cross the length of their bedroom without so much of a glance towards her.

"You know why," he uttered, searching through his underwear draw until he pulled out a bundle of blue.

"What's that?"

"Socks."

"You don't have sock in the spare bedroom?"

"I need these socks."

"Right," Liliana drawled, overall unimpressed with the entire situation. "I think you're being ridiculous."

"Yes," Marcello huffed, with his back still turned towards her. "You've made that very clear."

"So why are you insisting on this? Don't you know it's bad to ignore the wisdom of your wife? Even more so to ignore the wisdom of your very pregnant, hormonal wife who is more than prepared to resort to violence if she doesn't get her own way."

Still hunched over one of his draws, Liliana saw his shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter. She barely resisted the overwhelming desire to throw something at him. She'd been awfully irritable lately, for obvious reasons, and him laughing at her didn't make that any better. 

"And just what sort of violence are you threatening, when you can barely get up from the bed by yourself?"

Liliana's fingers curled around her phone tightly, and it took everything in her to resit aiming for his back. The fact that she was still talking to the back of his head was ridiculous. "Are you sure you want to be angering me tonight?"

"I'm not sure that there's much chance of a runaway bride at this point," he mused, the amusement apparent in his tone. That smug asshole.

"I'm sleeping in tomorrow, I'm missing it."

"You're not."

"I'll go for a walk with Gio."

"You won't."

"I'll take a long hot bath, that lasts throughout the whole ceremony."

Marcello faced her now, his blue socks in hand, and looked at her with bright eyes and a smile that gave away just how much he was laughing at her. For one second, Liliana's expression softened as she appraised his handsome face. Only for one second. Then, he opened his mouth once again and her glare was back with great enthusiasm. 

"And how will you be getting in and out of the bath mia amore?"

"Sophia and Zia Adelina will help," she huffed, leaning back against her arms. Marcello's attention fell to the dramatic curve of her bulging stomach, his grin widening. 

He glanced over at the long, black bag hung by the wardrobe that protected her dress. "I think they might prefer to help you with your dress, makeup and hair that you've all been talking non-stop about for weeks." 

"I'm weeks away from my due date, they'll be doing whatever the hell I ask them to do," Liliana said with a pout, as one hand came to rub at the grossly stretched skin of her stomach. "Are you really going to sleep in the spare bedroom?" 

"It's bad luck otherwise." 

"We're already married." When Marcello didn't have a retort, she continued in a soft, delicate tone, "You know I don't like to sleep without you." 

To his credit, he did now seem conflicted. Her husband shifted on his feet, and she could see a muscle in his jaw tense. "Goddammit," he growled underneath his breath, seconds before he crossed the room. He crouched before her, knees planted in the rug at the edge of their bed, his hands pushing hers away. 

From her bedside table, Marcello grabbed her moisturiser, squeezing out a generous amount. Liliana exhaled deeply when he began to massage the itchy skin of her stomach. With a coy smile, she asked, "Does this mean you're staying?" 

"Is there nothing I can do without you arguing with me?" He grumbled. Liliana disregarded his tone, able to recognise the undercurrent of affection. This was just how they were. Sometimes, she and Marcello would speak to one another in soft, delicate murmurs that would have Angelo cringing. Other times, they would snap and snarl at one another, their words sharp another to have the household staff quickly scurrying away to safety. But by far her favourite way in which they spoke to one another was with this faux sense of irritation, wherein they played the part of irritation despite the love they so obviously displayed through their actions. It was proof to her, that though they both constantly battled for dominance, caring for one another's wellbeing, safety and happiness was above all else. 

"I wouldn't have to argue with you if you didn't always try to do such stupid things." 

"I'd hardly call adhering to a centuries old tradition, stupid," Marcello laughed. His touch was gentle as his fingertips glided across her stomach in slow, sweeping movements. He was attentive, ensuring he didn't miss a single inch of her. If Liliana hadn't been so incredible pregnant, perhaps his attention would have had a more seductive affect on her. But as it happened, she was too tired and too uncomfortable to want anything other than a long, restful sleep. Even that seemed to be asking for too much though, as finding a comfortable sleeping position this far along was all but impossible.

She had no idea why they'd decided to renew their vows so late in her pregnancy. The idea seemed absurd to her now, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to go along with it anymore. She was even more baffled by how determined Marcello was to follow all of the wedding traditions. 

Liliana, on the other hand, had been striving to avoid as many traditions as possible. They'd already had one ceremony in Belize, one that had been full of all the proper protocols, and she had hated it. Even if she was now happy in her new life with Marcello, she would forever resent their first wedding, and she had no desire to replicate any moment of it. 

The dress that she had chosen for tomorrows ceremony was not a wedding dress. Regardless, it was gorgeous. Made from a cream chiffon material and embroidered with flowers, the large skirt allowed room for her stomach and the light material meant she wouldn't struggle to wear it. Just for the simple fact that she had been able to choose it herself, Liliana loved it so much more than her first dress - one that Liliana had purposefully abandoned in the wardrobe of their honeymoon suit back in Belize all those months ago. 

"You do know that not seeing the bride before the wedding is a tradition that stems from arranged marriages? The groom wasn't allowed to see his bride before the wedding in case he thought she was hideous and refused to go through with the wedding. Are you saying I'm hideous?" 

"Truly repulsive." Marcello smirked. 

Liliana went to lightly smack him on the back of the head, but he was quick to catch her arm. He turned her hand over, so that her palm faced upwards, and dipped his head to place a tender kiss on the pulse of her wrist. 

"Sei Bella," he murmured against her skin. You are beautiful. 

The breath caught in her throat as he looked up at her through his thick lashes. There was an intensity in his gaze that she would never grow tired of. 

"Ti adoro." I adore you. "Ho bisogno di te." I need you. "Il mio cuore è tuo." My heart is yours. "Tu mi completi." You complete me. 

He showered her with a dozen more declarations while he finished rubbing her stomach, all as heartfelt as the last until she was staring down at him with damp eyes and a soppy smile twisting her mouth. 

When he'd finished massaging her, Marcello placed a soft kiss against her stomach and began speaking in soft whispers. He was speaking to their baby again, his accent thick as he spoke in more flawless Italian. Liliana would be lying if she said that didn't have something within her tingling. 

He'd been speaking to her stomach for months now. Often she would sit in the library, in her favourite chair with a warm cup of tea whilst Marcello lounged beside her, his face close to her stomach. He would spend hours reading to the baby, or recounting something Liliana had done that week that Marcello had deemed ridiculous. Sometimes he would complain about his brothers, conspiring with his unborn child about how idiotic their uncles were. It was a side to Marcello she seldom got to see, but held such reverence for. 

Tonight, he simply told their child how much he loved them, how he couldn't wait to meet them, how he promised to be the best father possible.

Liliana had no doubts that he would achieve such a promise. 

As she often did, Liliana won that evening. His plans to sleep in another room had been abandoned, and Liliana laid next to Marcello, with her stomach resting against him. She had a pillow that she usually used on a night - comfort was seldom found without - but tonight she had wanted to fall asleep in his arms. 

With her face pressed into his bare chest, she whispered against his skin, "Ti amo."

A little bonus chapter of Liliana and Marcello the night before renewing their vows (I have plans to eventually write their vow renewal into Tainted Affair through Sophia's perspective). This was a very mushy scene to write so I hope you all like it - consider it a (very) early Valentines gift. 

The next bonus chapter is up on my Inkitt account and will be posted to Wattpad 20th Jan