Tainted Faith

Four: Quattro [re-written 14/12/20]

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.