Tainted Faith

Twenty Nine: Ventinove [re-written 28/05/21]

[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana shivered as she stepped out of Marcello's black Audi, making sure her steps towards the restaurant were long and quick. Marcello was already at her side, keys handed to the valet as they hurried away from the cool night air. Her husband said nothing as they were greeted inside; he had been quiet during for the entirety of their journey and Liliana was worried that there was something wrong.

The restaurant was dimly lit by large exposed bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and wooden tables cover in crème cloth were spread out through the spacious building. The décor gave the establishment a modern, yet rustic aesthetic; the perfect setting for a romantic evening, or for meeting the close friend of your husband, she supposed.

Mercello's hand rested on the small of her back as he guided her through the restaurant, that small ounce of heat easily seeping through the thin material of her blue silk dress and leaving her acutely aware of his closeness. She felt immersed within the act once again, playing the role of a doting couple. It had been a while since it was like this between them. But who was the act for; the public or his friend?

She still didn't know who it was they were meeting tonight, Marcello had told her very little about his friend. All she knew was that they had been away from the country for some time now, and Marcello was pleased that they had finally returned.

Liliana wondered how close Marcello and his friend truly were, and if they had been told the true nature of Liliana and Marcello's marriage. She was also beginning to feel as out of place. She shouldn't have asked to come here to night, it wasn't her place. Yet, Marcello had agreed.

"Are you okay?" Marcello murmured, casting her a cautious glance. It was only then that she realised her pace had slowed to almost a stop. Clearing her throat she nodded, and with a push from Marcello, continued towards the very back of the restaurant, where they would have the most privacy.

Their table was empty when they arrived, no sign of Marcello's friend, but the two of them claimed their seats next to one another, their shoulders brushing as they settled. There were glasses of wine waiting for them already, that Liliana had seen a waitress rush to pour as they had entered. Liliana had only eyed her glass with amusement, knowing she wouldn't be drinking again for a while now; she would stick to water tonight.

Though she hadn't been tortured with too bad of a hangover this morning, she had felt terribly dehydrated all day, and had slept most of the morning after Marcello had left. She had definitely drank too much at the bar, it was a wonder she had made it home at all and if it weren't for Marcello's assistance she dreaded to think what time her and Sophia would have crawled back to the mansion.

"Who is this friend of yours, then?" Liliana queried as her eyes skimmed the menu that had been placed in front of her. It was a French restaurant and Liliana could only vaguely understand what each dish entailed. Marcello - menu foregone - was watching her with keen eyes. She held his gaze for only a few seconds, before clearing her throat and looking away somewhat shyly.

"The son of my father's associate. We've known each other since our teens, he's a couple of years younger than me."

He was closer to Giovanni's age then, Liliana mused. "And you're close?"

"We were."

Someone called out Marcello's name throughout the restaurant, capturing his attention immediately. He turned in his chair and Liliana watched, amazed, as a slow smile curved across his lips.