There was no evidence that morning of Mercello ever having returned from his late night phone call. Liliana tried not to let that irritate her but that feeling of being isolated and cast aside was ever-present. Especially when it was so blatantly obvious that he was keeping secrets from her.

She knew far too well that in their line of work, knowledge was power. So if Marcello wanted to keep secrets from her, so be it; she wouldn't interrogate him. But that didn't mean she had to sit back quietly, and that didn't mean she couldn't interrogate anyone else.

"Giovanni," Liliana drawled as soon as she spotted him in the lounge post-breakfast. Typing on his laptop, Giovanni's expression was sober. "I need to ask you some questions."

"Is this going to take a while?" He grumbled, still typing. He didn't look up from his work and it was clear he was irritated by her arrival. Liliana wanted to be annoyed, but she could empathise with him. It wasn't Giovanni's fault he was confined to babysitting her. At least he now understood her own irritation, and this was only his second day.

"Do you need me to come back later?"

Giovanni sighed and snapped his laptop shut, his dark eyes rising to meet hers as he propped his feet onto the glass table. He nodded at the worn, leather arm chair opposite of him - the one she had seen Sebastiano sitting in the last time she was in here.

"What is it you're wanting to know? I take it it's something to do with Mercello? Or perhaps Angelo?" He asked, sounding bored.

"No, Angelo is still avoiding me," she scoffed. "I don't know what he had expected to happen between us. I suppose I shouldn't have assumed his flirting wasn't innocent."

"Angelo's difficult." Giovani shrugged. Liliana didn't hide her frown as her eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"He just seems childish to me," Liliana murmured.

"Whatever it was that happened between you, I guarantee it had more to do with Marcello than it does you. You can have our mother to thank for that. She's managed to drive a wedge between them both since childhood, and always encouraged whatever animosity or competition there is between them." At her visible surprise, Giovanni shrugged again. "It isn't a secret that our mother isn't fond of Marcello."

"Is that why Gabriella dislikes me so much? Because I'm married to Marcello?" Liliana asked, biting her lip.

From what little she'd seen of Gabriella, Liliana didn't like her. Now for her to learn that Gabriella had intentionally tried to distance Angelo and Marcello as children, she liked her even less. If Gabriella was in fact not Marcello's mother, it would make sense that Gabriella might resent him - or the woman that came before her. Clearly, raising another woman's son had been too much of a challenge for someone such as herself.

Giovanni winced at her deduction.

"There are many reasons why my mother acts the way she does, you being married to Mercello is only one," he revealed. Liliana sighed in discontent. Her brother-in-law sure knew how to drag out an interrogation.

"You men seem to have a lot of secrets." She rolled her eyes and sank lower into the soft leather of the armchair. "Are you enjoying being so vague? Do you all intend to keep me in the dark for the rest of my life?"

Giovanni's only response was a cocky smirk. He crossed his arms, and eyed her in amusement. "I'm afraid for the more personal information you'll have to seek out your husband."

"I find it unlikely he'll want to tell me anything, let alone stay in the same room with me long enough to say it," she commented, shaking her head.

"Don't worry, I'm sure things will change soon. This tension between you two can't go on forever, it never does."

"Speaking from experience?" she challenged, her tone low. "I've been meaning to acquire Sophia's phone number from you. You just never know when you're going to need support."

Suddenly Giovani's demeanour changed. His posture relaxed, his arms uncrossed, and he leant towards her with a hand reaching out to rest upon her knee.

"If the situation requires it, I'll always offer you support. While some issues have to remain between you and Marcello, I understand his social skills can be a little rough at times and he may speak out of turn in his anger. I want you to know you can confide in me."

Her breath hitched and surprise flushed through Liliana's body. She wanted to believe him - she wanted to believe there was nothing but authenticity in his words - but she couldn't forget that Giovanni was Marcello's brother. When it came down to it, family protected one another, and she was not family.

"Thank you," Liliana breathed, as she used a hand to brush back her hair behind an ear. There was an uncomfortable silence that settle in the room, that thickened the air and made it hard for her to breath and hold eye contact with Giovanni. When her words seemed to finally sink in he nodded firmly and regained his previous position.

She cleared her throat, hoping to dislodge the nervousness that had suddenly taken hold of her.

"There was a specific reason for me to interrupt your work," she spoke clearly, not allowing her voice to waver despite her inner turmoil. "I wanted to ask you about someone."

"And?"

Liliana's lips pursed and her fingers started to drum a rhythmic beat upon the aged leather.

"Who is Alessandro Barbato?"

Giovanni's tried to remain impassive but she noticed the tightening of his eyes, the way his forearms tensed. He knew, just as Marcello had.

"How do you know about him?" Giovanni's voice was deep and grating, as if the new topic physically pained him. Her own eyes narrowed on her brother-in-law. Was Barbato such a secret that just her knowledge of the man was an oddity?

"His name was plastered all over the news last night, I wasn't paying much attention but I know enough to be aware that he's about to be released from prison."

Giovanni grimaced.

"Alessandro Barbato is, was, the leader of another family in New York. He's a fierce old man and one the D'Onofrio's have had a rivalry with before Angelo and I were born. By the time we were old enough to walk the man was already confined to a cell."

So the rivalry began with Sebastiano.

"And he's enough of a threat that the mere mention of his release has Marcello storming out of our bedroom? What caused such a rivalry between you all?" She asked, certain there was much more of the story Giovanni was leaving out.

Giovanni cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles. "The rest isn't for me to say."

"But it is Marcello's?"

"I don't know how much you'll get out of him. Who knows what's going on in that head of his."

***

"Coming up next, more on the release of Alessandro Barbato, a man with multiple ties to the Italian-American mafia, convicted in 1997 with the multiple offenses of -"

The TV in the lounge cut off unexpectedly, and Liliana's harsh glare flew from the now black screen towards the man beside her holding the remote. When the grim face of her father-in-law registered, her mood quickly subdued and she shrank into the arm chair.

She thought he would have left by now.

"I never could stand to watch the News. I'd much prefer a good book," he confessed, lifting a small beaten up looking novel in her line of sight. Liliana didn't comment, keeping her lips tightly pressed together. Sebastiano picked up on this, his eyes narrowing slightly before he moved to place himself on the couch where his son had sat earlier that day. "How are you settling in?"

"As well as to be expected." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she watched him intently. What could have sparked such a rivalry between Sebastiano and Barbato; such an intense conflict that her terrifying father-in-law was still riled by it years later?

"I expect you to be honest with me Liliana," Sebastiano's stated with a sharp edge. "I will have no patience for your usual teasing and evasive answers."

Fear shot through her but Liliana's expression didn't waver. Instead, her features hardened under his domineering command. Sebastiano was on edge and she had never been the brunt of his raised voice before. Liliana had no doubt his attitude was a direct correlation to Barbato's immanent release.  

"I'm not settling in at all," she answered bluntly. If he wanted honesty, he was going to get it. "I'm not sure whether that's due to Marcello's disregard for my existence or my own stubbornness but it's abundantly clear that I still don't belong here."

Liliana's voice had almost cracked at the sudden well of emotion. There was genuine fear that she would never settle into the D'Onofrio household, that she would forever remain an outsider and forever feel uncomfortable in her new home. It had been too long since she had last spoken to one of her own members of family. She had been preventing herself from calling any of them out of spite, resenting the fact that they had abandoned her so after the wedding.

She was only nineteen and had been foisted into a marriage to a dangerous man, five years her senior. How well did Sebastiano seriously think she would be 'settling in'?

"You and Mercello are the only ones that can make your marriage work and until you both try you're always going to be fighting each other."

"You're assuming I want to try. This is no normal marriage." Liliana tried not to roll her eyes. He made it sound so simple. Why would she want to try at a marriage where her husband had been nothing but a distant ass-hole? "It's hard to open up to a man with so many secrets in a home where I am a naïve outcast. If I don't know the man I have married, how am I meant to know that I want to make our marriage work?"

"It's rarely ever about what you want mia caro, more so what you both need."

Liliana didn't respond to that and Sebastiano seemed more than content to turn to his book, leaving her to stew in silence. The TV remote lay on the couch next to him, and Liliana wasn't stupid enough to try and turn the news channel back on to the news of Barbato's release, no matter how curious she was to see his reaction.

So she opted for the next best thing. Perhaps Sophia - and woman who clearly knew Giovanni intimately - could enlighten her more on their rivalry. She was a family friend after all, a close one if her attendance to D'Onofrio family events were a regular occurrence.

Liliana remembered what Sophia had said to her just yesterday - I know first hand how overwhelming men in that line of work can be.

Well, fuck. Just what was she supposed to do with that information?

***

Marcello returned home late that night; so late that he was surprised to see Liliana still awake. She was sat in their bed, in a thin vest and shorts as she rested a book upon her raised knees, only the bedside lamp illuminating the pages.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his gaze away from her tanned legs as he marched towards his bathroom. He needed a long shower and a drink if he was ever going to relax. He had been doing his best to collect intel on Alessandro and prepare for his inevitable release into the city once again and it had only served to terrify him. He knew Alessandro's release would signify the old mans return to power and the strength of Marcello's empire would be threatened.

When he was clean of the day and ready to sleep he retreated to his bed, not acknowledging Liliana.

"You're back early," she drawled evenly, not glancing away from the book.

Marcello heaved a sigh, rolling onto his side, staring up at her blankly in the dim light. His dark hair brushed against the plain, white pillows, the bed sheets tucked under his arm so that his naked shoulders were bared to the cool air of the room.

"Stressful day in hell?" She murmured once again. There was no malice in her voice and Mercello was almost convinced that she actually cared.

"Isn't it always?" He grumbled back despite thinking better of it.

"Anything to do with Barbato?"

Marcello tensed. He buried his head into his pillow as his shoulders heaved in another heavy sigh. Humming low in his throat, he muttered, "We're not going to talk about that."

"We don't talk about anything!" Liliana snapped, gaining his full attention. He pushed back the sheets and sat up, turning to face her. In frustration, Liliana slammed her book onto the bedside table, her hands gripping tightly onto the bedsheets. "If I want to know anything about your life I have to ask everyone else and the only answer I receive is to question you! I can't adapt to this life if you don't help me Marcello. I know you want me to be the perfect wife who holds her tongue and dutifully follows your every word but that's never going to happen," she heaved. Mercello did nothing but observer her as she shouted, the tendon in her neck throbbing, the heavy rise and fall of her chest, her lips parted slightly as she awaited his response. That is until she realised he hadn't one.

Fuck it.

"Say something yo-" Marcello cut her off, his hand shooting out to cup the back of her head and wrench her closer. His mouth met hers with a passion he'd never expressed to anyone before. A passion he channelled all of his frustrations into.

A startled moan escaped her tense lips until, after harsh encouragement from his own all consuming lust, her tension melted and she began to kiss back. His hand cupped the back of her head, knotting into her thick, dark curls to hold her to him. Their mouths kissed feverishly, and Marcello groaned into her mouth as her arms wound around his shoulders, and her body melted into him.

Marcello's chest was now pressed upon hers, his knees dug into the mattress at either side of her hips as her shoulders lifted to ensure their connection never ceased.

He never wanted it to end.

He had barely thought about the consequences. All he'd wanted was to end her damned yelling, and she had looked so damn tempting in her sleep wear, with those pink lips parted and that igniting in her eyes.

"Marcello," his wife moaned with a thick voice and deliciously pink and swollen lips. "We shouldn't," she argued though her hands were yet to release their bruising grip as they settling upon his neck and in his hair.

Mercello didn't say anything, but continued with his torturous attack on her mouth, their tongues taking to duel as more groans of frustration and satisfaction filled the air. His lips moved from hers to trail down the smooth, slender length of her neck, biting and nipping at the soft skin inciting an excited gasp from Liliana. She tugged at his hair, holding his head closer as one of her legs arched and clung to his torso.

"Mercello..." her hoarse voice strained. "This is wrong."

"No," was his muffled response against her skin.

How could this be wrong if it were what they both wanted?

With her hand still firmly gripping his hair, she tugged his head away from her, saving herself from his relentless attention.  Her palm came to rest on his cheek, her eyes glistening.

"We shouldn't. You can't just kiss me in hopes of silencing me!"

She was right of course. He told her so with a disappointed sigh as he shifted from the bed. She watched him rise with furrowed brows and a bite of her lip. Mercello brushed a hand through his hair, grabbed a shirt, and left the bedroom.

He needed another drink.

Mercello knew how Liliana really felt about him and a moment of weakness couldn't convince him otherwise, he wasn't so naïve. Come the morning the atmosphere between the two of them would return to spiteful comments and heated glares. After all, what else to their marriage was there?

Q. What are your predictions for the beginning of the next chapter?