Tainted Faith

Thirteen: Tredici [re-written 26/03/21]

Liliana didn't know what to do with herself. Marcello had barely said two words to her before he'd stalked off, and Angelo had hardly stuck around for much longer.

Angelo had looked scared; scared of the consequences of making a move on his mafioso brother's wife. Good, he should be scared. Fear was exactly what kept Liliana frozen in place in the lounge for longer than it should have, before she had the good sense to go looking for Marcello. She realised how incriminating it had seemed, sat so close to Angelo with his hand in her hair. But she hadn't done anything. In fact, she had tried to stop Angelo's advances.

Her stomach clenched into a knot so tight, she was convinced it would never come undone. She knew it was guilt that had her feeling like this. She didn't owe Marcello anything; he was her husband in name only and she hardly expected him to stay faithful to her. She had no way of knowing what it was he was doing while he worked behind closed doors, after all. But she hadn't even entertained the thought of being with any man since their wedding, least of all Angelo. Still, she knew that guilt was what she was feeling.

She had quite readily assumed the worst of the marriage and how horrible her separation from her family would be, but she had not once dared to think she would face these kinds of marital issues. She should have known ever since the beginning that Angelo would bring trouble. Her first instinct had been to distrust him and yet his company had seemed so tempting when given little else to choose from.

Liliana was slow to search the house, her feet heavy as if bags of sand had been strapped to them. Each step in search of Marcello had dread eating away at her. What little food Liliana had eaten today turned in her stomach.

Every rumour she had ever heard about the D'Onofrio's - the tales of violence and revenge - streamed endlessly through her head.

Marcello had not returned to his room, nor the guest room Liliana knew he had stormed into that first night back. He was not in the kitchen, the dining room, or the home gym. There was little other areas of the house she had been shown, and she was at a loss of where he could be.

She couldn't allow Marcello to believe this betrayal. She would surely be punished in ways so horribly beyond her imagination.

Liliana collapsed onto his bed, burying her face into the pillow she had been using as tears threatened to fall. She would certainly never be allowed to leave the house now. She would forever be trapped here, alone.

The bedroom door opened and then slammed shut. Liliana flinched away from the side, rolling to see her husband standing there, back stiff with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. Through the thin material she could see they were clenched into fists.

"I went looking for you," she said hoarsely, wincing at the sound of her own voice.

"Of course." He didn't believe her. Why would he when he thought she was nothing more than a cheating wife?

"Nothing happened, and nothing was going to-"

"I only came to tell you that we will be dining out tomorrow," he uttered harshly, cutting off her explanation. "A family function we cannot miss."

Liliana bit her lip, holding back her own anger. Now was not the time to push him further - not when she had no way of knowing how he would react. All the bravado she'd had the last time they saw each other was suddenly non-existent. Now, all she felt was the overwhelming urge to cry.

"Okay," she said through gritted teeth. "Are we going to talk about it?"

"Have you eaten anything this evening?" He asked, ignoring her completely, staring down his nose at her as if she wasn't worth the concern.