Tainted Faith

Twenty Two: Ventidue [edited 11/04/21]

Liliana's face scrunched in distaste as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her index finger poked roughly at the base of her neck and collar bones, lip curling at the sight of the horrible purple and pink marks. It looked as if someone had been gnawing on her neck all night long.

What the hell had he done to her? 

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, skin and hair still wet from her shower, Liliana couldn't stop scowling at her own reflection. She'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror for nearly ten minutes, glaring at the sight of the promiscuous, traitorous, little idiot glaring back at her.  

She couldn't explain what had overcome her the night before, what had possessed her to sleep with Marcello. She wished more than anything she could blame the decision on alcohol, but she had barely had anything to drink at all. Just thinking about last night had her entire body flushed with heat, and her thighs clenching.

Liliana had hoped that it had all been just a dream; a lustful, self-indulgent dream. But Liliana wasn't so lucky. 

Mercello hadn't been there when she awoke, quite late into the day, but he needn't be. For Liliana was bare of clothes that morning under the crumpled sheets of the bed, and there was an ache between her legs. She was sore and that pain couldn't lie.

She couldn't forgive herself for this mistake.

Stupid attractive husband. 

It hadn't been her first time with a man - not that anyone else knew of that fact. She had only slept with someone once before, and it had been years ago; she hadn't dared to do it again and risk the wrath of her family should someone have found out. But her first time had been a quick and rushed affair, nothing like what had transpired between Marcello and her the night before. 

No, Marcello had taken his time with her last night. He'd explored nearly every inch of her with his hands, and his mouth, until she had been writhing on their bed begging him to finally take her. 

How would she be able to look Marcello in the eye after such wanton behaviour? Despite having slept together, Liliana was adamant that nothing had changed between them. He was still her domineering husband that had locked her inside his home and abandoned her to this new life, and then when he had finally released her, he had forced his brothers to watch her at all times outside of the house. Despite whatever supposed freedom she had been granted now, she was still not allowed to pursue a job, or education, or socialise outside of D'Onofrio gatherings. 

Once she had finally pulled herself together, Liliana dared to leave the safety of their bedroom. She had hoped the kitchen would be empty by the time she emerged for breakfast. But, as she had already established, she wasn't so lucky. 

Angelo leant against the kitchen island, staring at the phone in his hand with a half empty mug of coffee beside an empty plate. His clothes suggested a morning work-out, with matching black shorts, vest that clung to his sweaty body. Gross. She didn't let her gaze linger on him.  

"Suffering?" Angelo asked, a biting smile on his face as he greeted her. 

Liliana said nothing as she moved to pour herself a glass of water, keeping her back to him. She didn't want to have to deal with Angelo this morning; not when her head was still reeling over what had happened with Marcello. She certainly didn't want him to catch any evidence of what had transpired last night. Liliana had purposefully worn a high-neck sweatshirt to hide the damn hickeys, though knew that at certain angles they were still visible. But it wasn't like she could wear a turtle neck in the middle of summer.