Tainted Faith

Thirty Four: Trenta Quattro [re-written 16/07/21]

When they didn't say anything else, Liliana forced her attention to return to her phone. She needed the distraction, for fear that if they continued talking she would let something slip and everyone would know before it was confirmed, or she was ready.

It was only five minutes later when Marcello's heavy footsteps could be heard nearing closer, and her husband's broad frame finally passed through the open doorway. There was a bowl in his hands, and as he returned to the empty sofa, he looked towards Liliana expectantly.

He beckoned with a tilt of his head. "I haven't seen you eat anything all day."

Liliana was wide-eyed as she clambered to her feet and moved to sit next to him. She caught a look of surprise on Gavino's expression.

In the bowl, Mercello had cooked her an omelette and boiled veg. It was simple and healthy and had Liliana's chest tightening at the obvious concern and attention he had been showing her.

"Thank you." Liliana was smiling softly from beside him on the sofa, catching Federico's narrowed eyed stare and offered a raised eyebrow in response - as if to say 'See? Not what you expected' - despite the fact that she never would have expected such an action from Mercello either.

The room remained uncomfortably quiet for a couple of minutes while Liliana ate, praying that her earlier queasiness would not return, until thankfully her cousin's resumed their conversation. Marcello remained quiet beside her, his drink in his hand once again, with an arm sprawled out on the back of the couch behind her. The tips of his fingers would graze the bare skin of her shoulders, or tease a section of her curled hair as he listened to whatever her cousins spoke about - Liliana was hardly paying enough attention to know.

Soon, Liliana found herself leaning into Marcello's side; his arm was now resting against her shoulder, holding her to him as her head rested against his left pec. She was exhausted, her eyes drooping closed, but she was far too comfortable to muster the effort required to go to bed.

It was after five minutes of laying there with her eyes closed that Marco finally addressed Marcello. It was clear that Marco presumed she was no asleep, as he uttered flatly, "I heard Anton is back."

She didn't stir against Mercello, her face now nestled against his chest as her husband held her to him, interest piqued as she listened. Liliana had almost forgotten of Marco's history with Anton. Never having heard of the man until a few days ago she was more than curious to find out as much as she could.

"He is," was all the information Marcello deigned to provide.

"I imagine he's still playing lapdog, running round doing all of your errands."

Liliana had never heard Marco sound so bitter before. Did Roderigo, Federico and Gavino know of Marco's relationship with Anton? Did their grandfather? She couldn't imagine a man as traditional as Valentino Fiorenza approving of such a thing. As much as she loved her grandfather, as loving as he had been to her throughout her childhood, he was not a tolerant man, and he very much adhered to the beliefs of their culture - as toxic as they may be.

"His recent stay in Qatar was family related. Anton does as he pleases Marco, he always has."

Marcello knew, Liliana realise, what had happened between Marco and Anton. Yet while his words alluded towards it, they did not enlighten Liliana in the slightest. What could Anton have possibly done to warrant such bitterness from Marco, to warrant such a resolute decision to never speak to the man again?

A silence settled across the room again, and when it became apparent that neither Marco or Marcello had anything else to say, Liliana shifty slowly and feigned a yawn. Stretching, she noticed Marcello's eyes on her.