After a restless night of little sleep, Liliana came to the conclusion that all tension between her and Marcello would have to be shattered as soon as possible.

So, it was with purpose and determination that she stalked through the villa in search of her terrifying, albeit attractive fiancé. Her dark curls bounced with every stride, until Liliana found herself halting abruptly in the doorway to the lounge. Marcello was sat alone, furiously typing away on a sleek black laptop, a heavy scowl creasing his brow.

Once again he was dressed in black trousers, a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the sleeved rolled to his elbows, leading her to wonder whether or not this man owned any other clothes. This certainly wasn't the appropriate attire for the Belize climate.

Liliana had spent yesterday evening, in the solace of her assigned room, searching the internet for every last piece of information on the man that was to be her husband. Every newspaper, gossip column and article didn't contradict her theory, every image had shown him to always be dressed in such smart business attire. And after seeing him first-hand, it wouldn't surprise her if he slept in a suit.

She remained unnoticed in the doorway, Marcello's attention entirely focussed on whatever he was working on. She cleared her throat loudly.

He wasn't startled by her attention, instead he only raised a dark eyebrow in question, taking notice of her frown above the top of his screen.

"Yes?" He drawled, voice deep. Unlike his father, he had no sign of an Italian accent, instead the familiar lilt of a New York accent graced his words. Liliana already knew he had not grown up in Italy but this was surely confirmation of such.

"Are you always working," she queried politely, moving to take a seat opposite him.

One glance outside confirmed the beautiful weather - and while most would relish in the opportunity to relax in the sun or swim in the ocean, Marcello remained inside, proving to be ever the stiff suit.

"What else should I be doing?" He fixed her with a blank stare, before going back to his work.

Liliana watched with narrowed eyes as Marcello resumed his typing, not paying any further attention to her presence.

So much for getting to know her fiancé.

She waited in silence to see if he would finally glance at her once again, if he would even try to engage in a conversation with her. But no such thing ever came. Liliana had to fight the urge to slam that damn laptop shut and toss it mercilessly into the water outside.

"So," she broke the silence eventually, clicking her tongue in frustration when Marcello continued to work. "I vaguely understand why your father might push for this marriage, but why have you agreed?"

Finally he looked at her. Finally, he pushed away the laptop.

Marcello settled back into his chair, arms crossed. His dark gaze snapped to hers and lazily roamed across her figure. Liliana felt her pulse begin to race, at the level of intimate attention he paid her.

"The unity of our two families will benefit the strength of my business," he finally responded in numbingly dull, monotone voice.

"Your business?"

"The construction of hotel chains." He was lying through his perfectly straightened teeth and yet the mask of indifference across his face had her biting her tongue.

"Of course, that business," she answered bitterly. Why he had chosen to lie to her, she didn't know. She was no stranger to the life of a mafioso. She was perfectly aware of her families business, and she refused to step into this marriage as another nameless Mafia wife who was nothing more than a prop on her husband's arm.

Liliana understood perfectly well that it would not be the D'Onofrio hotel chain that would strengthen with their marriage. When word spread that Valentino Fiorenza's only granddaughter was married to a D'Onofrio man - Marcello D'Onofrio no less - then the D'Onofrio empire would strengthen instantly. They would gather more threats of course, but they would become a far greater enemy with her grandfather supporting them.

"Were you looking for another answer?" Marcello asked, a smirk curving across his face. She had never seen a man look so cruel before. Liliana's heart stuttered at the sight. "Would you have preferred that I confess my undying attraction to you? Perhaps it is you who has such a confession to make?"

Liliana wanted to scoff at his assumption. Did he truly believe her to actually desire this relationship? Did he believe her to desire him?

"Though you don't look like a traditional Italian woman, you certainly are attractive. But I wouldn't expect romance of any kind from our marriage."

Liliana knew she didn't fit the stereotype of a traditional Italian woman. She was not tall and slender, rather short and 'full' - something she had been rudely referred to as many times in the past two years from women who claimed to care for her wellbeing. Whether he found that to be attractive or not was of no concern to her though - she certainly didn't care if Marcello D'Onofrio approved of her appearance. Did he assume her to be a naïve, young girl desperate for any sort of compliment?

"You're far too arrogant." She scowled at him sharply, hating how calm he appeared to be while her blood was now positively boiling. Marcello seemed not the least bit fazed by her rising temper.

"I'm not arrogant, I'm just blunt. I don't want you to get your heart broken." Now she really had the urge to throw something in the ocean and it wasn't just his laptop.

"I think we're done talking, I imagine being in your company for any longer is going to give me a migraine. I'll let you get back to your work." With anger fuelling her every movement, Liliana stalked out of the room.

She had learned at least one thing during this time with him; her future husband had an excellent skill for infuriating her.

***

"Nonno, how can I be expected to marry that man? He is incorrigible!" Liliana burst into the study her grandfather was occupying. It was her grandfathers soft chuckle that angered her further. How could he find anything in her situation amusing?

"I believe you both will do each other some good Liliana," her grandfather assured, offering a hand for her take. When she did, his thumb stroked the back of her hand gently in a soothing manner. Her anger did not dissipate.

"Marcello is far too focussed on his work than is needed. He needs a wakeup call so to speak, something I believe will come from a small, passionate women such as yourself, Carina; he needs a strong woman behind him to set him straight and educate him on the important lessons of life." Liliana held back her snort.

"Like how not to be an utter ass," Liliana muttered under her breath but not quiet enough to avoid her grandfather's ears. He shot her a pointed look. To avoid the silent chastise, Liliana ducked her head and allowed her thick brunette curls to curtain around her burning cheeks.

"Scusa my language Nonno." She wasn't sorry. Marcello was an ass.

"While I find your smart quips to be quite amusing, I do believe Sebastiano D'Onofrio will not. You're going to have to hold your tongue more often than you will like Liliana."

She sighed and pulled her hand back into her lap, keeping her eyes still downcast.

Liliana already knew she could not act the same with the D'Onofrio's as she did her family. She would now have to watch everything she said, every move she made, constantly aware of how her words and actions could be perceived. Hearing her grandfather cement this still felt like a swift kick to the stomach. She hated to be told what she could and couldn't do; and she knew her aunt had been entirely too lenient with her these past three years. There were ways in which a traditional Italian daughter should be raised, ways which ensured she would eventually be the perfect Mafia wife, but Liliana had not been raised in such a way. She was far too independent, far too defiant, and spoke her mind all too freely.

For no longer would she be allowed this leniency. After marriage she would surly be kept on a tight leash.

Even now - not yet married, not yet a D'Onofrio - Liliana knew she could not fight. There would be no chance of gaining the upper hand with the D'Onofrio's, and they would not suffer her disobedience.

She had no choice but the accept her new fate.

***

Marcello struggled to focus on his work following his conversation with Liliana. Despite his father's warnings, despite Valentino's suggestions, he had done nothing but aggravate his fiancée, like a young boy would his crush on a playground. Except Marcello held no affections for his wife-to-be.

With a heavy sigh, Marcello pushed away his laptop, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight an oncoming headache. So much work had to be done while he was away, but Marcello had been too distracted with the upcoming wedding to focus on anything.

"You just can't do it, can you?" Angelo's voice broke the silence, and Mercello had to stifle a groan. He shot his brother a glare, but it did not stop the teenager from sauntering into the room as if he owned it, a smug grin stretched across his face. "You should have heard her Marcello. She called you an ass to her own grandfather. What on earth did you do to annoy her so much, that she would speak like that to her grandfather? You're lucky it was me that overheard and not Dad."

"This isn't funny Angelo-"

"On the contrary," the youngest D'Onofrio interrupted. "I think it's very funny. The great Marcello D'Onofrio can't control his own woman, I've got better luck winning her over than you."

Marcello wasn't given chance to reply to his brother's stupid taunts. Liliana had returned, looking as furious as ever.

"Control? Really Angelo?" She speared him with an icy stare that had even Marcello cautious. "This is the second time now that you've made such sexist remarks."

Despite the ferocity of her tone, Liliana calmly made her way to Marcello's side, perching on the arm of his chair without so much as a glance in his direction. All the while she kept her gaze steadily on his brother. Marcello did not let his surprise at her positioning show, only allowing a small smirk to slowly appear.

Liliana's willingness to be so close to him, certainly left him curious, but he was all too happy to watch Angelo be put in his place, that he didn't care to question it. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around her. Liliana didn't flinch at his touch, and didn't pause as she clasped his hand in hers.

Marcello didn't miss his brothers startled expression.

"Good luck winning me over Angelo, you're going to need it," his fiancée taunted.

Angelo narrowed his eyes on the couple and slowly stood to his feet. He didn't question the visible truce between Marcello and Liliana, only gathered to his feet and shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

"I can see you two are quickly going to become a terror couple."

As soon as he left the room, Liliana stiffened beside him, and dropped his hand as if it had burned her.

"I'm not as bad as you might think," Marcello could help but say, voice soft as he stared at her. She didn't look at him, still staring at the open doorway where Angelo had escaped.

It bothered him, even when he knew it shouldn't. It bruised his ego to know that Liliana was seemingly more comfortable speaking to his youngest brother - even if it was just to chastise Angelo - than himself. Especially if they were to soon play the role of a loving couple for all the world.

"Fortunately, you don't know what I'm thinking," she uttered quietly.

"We're going to have to learn to get along, if we're to convince others that we're happily married." Still she did not face him, and did not acknowledge his words. As much as he would despise to admit it to his brothers, Marcello had enjoyed the spark of heat he'd witnessed in her during their last conversation. She had held no fear when speaking to him, like so many other women he had witnessed before her, only clear irritation. Marcello had been unable to stop himself from goading her further, eager to see just how far he could push her before she snapped it him. Except now, none of that fire was present. It was like she was another woman entirely, completely devoid of passion.

"I'm a good actor," she murmured, before standing to her feet and leaving him once again.