[RE-WRITTEN]
"You shouldn't be here," Liliana murmured softly, her hand reaching out to grasp Mercello's while they remained in the peaceful safety of the black town-car.
Parked as close to the church as they could be, neither of them made any move to get out of the car just yet. Outside, there was a crowd of people and Liliana was surprised by the number of people here dressed all in black, attending the funeral service. She hadn't expected so many people to attend. She also hadn't expected for Marcello to attend - not in the condition he was in.
She had begged him to stay in their bed this morning, but no amount of pleading had worked. Marcello had been determined to attend, and any last attempts from here wouldn't work.
"You don't think it's my place to attend Alessandro – my grandfather's – funeral?" He responded stiffly, staring out of the window at the numerous guests filtering into the church. Nonetheless he held her hand, squeezing it gently.
"It's only been a week," Liliana sighed. "I don't want you back in the hospital because you pulled your stitches or collapsed in the middle of the service."
"I'll be fine, Liliana." Another squeeze of her hand and then he was letting go and opening the car door. Liliana watched silently with a frown as Marcello climbed out of the car with strained movements and a groan on his lips. He was on so much medication, yet still in so much pain and she couldn't understand how he was up and able to move. It seemed impossible to her that he was even able to stand. She sometimes questioned whether her husband was even human.
"You're going to hurt yourself," she muttered under her breath, though Marcello would have no problem hearing her at only a few steps away. He smartly chose to ignore her.
It had been six days until Mercello had been released from hospital – if 'released' meant ′decided to leave despite the doctor's warnings and her pleas for him not to hurt himself more'.
Angelo had been the first brother to be released from the hospital, and he was smart enough to stay at home resting. Giovanni had still yet to wake up. All three brothers were so very lucky to survive, and the fact that Marcello was tempting fate, showing no regard for his health, was maddening. He was a stupid, stubborn fool.
Liliana didn't recognise anyone attending Barbato's funeral, other than Sophia, Cal and Paolo. They didn't greet one another, and sat on opposite sides of the church. Both Liliana and Marcello remained silent throughout the service or the car ride to the bar that Barbato owned, where the wake would be held. It was the same bar Liliana had once visited with Sophia, and it was packed by the time they arrived.
Much like the first time she had visited the establishment - The Alchemist - the bar still looked drab; the décor was worn and the lights were dim. The old pool tables had been pushed to the side to allow more people to fit into the small space, and were now being used as a place for people to put their drinks.
It was with solemn discontent, that she surveyed the groups of equally solemn people habiting the bar. Some were already drunk, she realised, overhearing their slurred words. There were so many people here, more than she had expected. Perhaps Barbato had more family members - other than Mercello and Sophia - here to mourn him.
"I need a whisky," Mercello grunted quietly from beside her, the first thing he had said in hours, as he too surveyed the groups of people around them.
Liliana's scowl was instantaneous. First, he had discharged himself from the hospital when he was in absolutely no condition to do so, and now he was talking about drinking alcohol. Liliana was so furious with him she honestly thought she was going to cry.
With her sights focused across the room, she subtly leaned closer to Mercello's ear and under her breath heatedly hissed, "If you dare to drink alcohol right now, on all of the medication you're on and in your condition I swear I'm going to drag out of here by your ear. If you have any regards for your well-being, or my sanity, you will be drinking water tonight."
From the corner of her eye she saw him watching her and smirking to himself. The ass was laughing at her.
"What's so funny?" She snapped, not in the mood for any of his humour. The fact that he didn't care about his health was genuinely upsetting to her. She had spent the last week in agony, worrying constantly about his well-being and here he was, pushing himself too far, i complete disregard for himself. Time and time again she had been witness to Mercello's lack of care or concern towards his wellbeing. That may have worked fine for him before but, now that he was a husband and a soon to be father, he needed to look after himself so he could continue to look after them.
"I like that you worry about me." There was a smile on his lips - not one of his smirks - a soft smile that relaxed the usually stern features of his face. The sight warmed Liliana's heart but she did her best to keep the displeased expression on her face.
"Yes, well... I hate that you make me worry," she grumbled. "I'm going to go say hello to Sophia, are you okay on your own?"
"Yes," he breathed, laughing briefly. He leaned down carefully to place a chaste kiss on her temple, and as much as Liliana loved when he did that, she hated to know that he was in pain. "I'll join you in a moment, I'm going to get a glass of water."
Liliana rolled her eyes at his teasing, unable to stop the corners of her lips quirking into a small smile. Mercello's smile grew wider at the sight of it.
Liliana approached the familiar group of people across the room, all sat crowded at the heavily packed bar. They had yet to speak to each other today, and the funeral service had been long with many people wanting to speak in honour of Barbato. Liliana and Marcello had remained at the back of the church, on a pew all to themselves while the other guests kept a wide birth. She knew without a doubt that all attendees recognised Marcello. There was an unmistakeable glean of fear in their eyes whenever they looked in their direction. And despite the fact that Marcello was weakened and somewhat vulnerable, everyone regarded him with respectful nods whenever they caught his eye.
"Hi," Liliana greeted the grave looking group. Sophia was staring down at her glass, not appearing to be a part of the conversation around her with her body turned away from the boys, but Cal and Paolo turned to greet her with tight lipped smiles.
"I'm not interested." The slur of a voice cut through the group before anyone else could speak and it had Liliana's attention shifting quickly. A man she had not been introduced to before - sat on the outskirts of the group - had been the one to speak. Liliana, brows furrowing, couldn't help but to blink at him incredulously.
"Sorry?"
"I usually go for women slimmer than you," he grunted over a large glass of whisky. The man was clearly drunk from the way he swayed on his stool and couldn't even seem to look her in the eyes - or perhaps he merely had no interest in meeting her gaze now that he had deemed her company unwanted.
"Excuse me?" Liliana snapped, aghast by his outrageous manners - let alone his misplaced sense of confidence. Still, she couldn't help but tug uncertainly at her black dress - suddenly self-conscious.
"What did you just say?" Sophia, only a few stools down, stood to her feet, a snarl on her lips. The once placid, distracted woman was now vibrating with anger, looking about two seconds away from tearing the drunken man to shreds. Liliana saw Paolo reaching out to place a steady hand on her shoulder, as if to hold her back.
Liliana felt someone come to a stop directly behind her, a hand falling to her hip.
"Yes," came the slow, deep drawl of her husband. She hadn't realised he had followed her over to the bar. His body pressed up behind Liliana's, an arm curling around her waist to hold her to him. There was no misunderstanding their relation. "What did you say?"
Recognition registered across the man's face, his eyes widening as he stumbled to his feet and his shoulders curving forward as he lowered his eyes.
"Signor D'Onofrio," he stuttered. So, this man knew who Marcello was and he knew of his power. Had he worked for Barbato? Did he work with Paolo and Cal?
"Have you met my wife, Luca Cancio?" Marcello asked in a voice that dripped with disgust. Her husband wasn't playing around, and he had so quickly reduced this man to a quivering mess. Liliana felt her heart drop as she beheld the effect her husband had on a grown man.
"Uh- no, I- uh..." Luca Cancio was visibly sweating. His eyes lowered to Marcello's chest, unable to stand the weight of her husband's fierce glare. Marcello dragged his gaze up and down the quivering man, a level of distaste to his expression that she was sure only he could muster.
"Sophia," Marcello nodded in her direction, completely dismissing the man before him. "I trust with you to deal with this the right way."
Sophia stepped back, no longer seeming as if she was about to jump into a fight at any second and her mouth drew into a taunt line. She regarded Marcello with a blank expression but nodded in his direction - the action so small Liliana had nearly missed it.
"Yes, Signor D'Onofrio."
Liliana narrowed her eyes at her friend, the friend who wouldn't meet her gaze as Sophia calmly approached the drunken man. With an arm around her waist, Marcello turned Liliana around and directed her away from the group before she could see what Sophia's next move was. The heavy feeling of dread in her stomach told Liliana all she needed to know about what was to transpire.
"What was that?" She asked in a quiet voice, regarding her husband with a frown. He guided her to the other side of the bar, towards another group of men who gestured a greeting in Marcello's direction.
"What was what?" Marcello wasn't looking at her, his jaw tight.
"Signor D'Onofrio?" Liliana uttered, this time her hushed voice had attained an edge to it.
"Sophia worked for Alessandro, and in the midst of the chaos that was his death, I have amassed his empire." So, she now worked for Mercello... was left unsaid, but Liliana knew that was what he had meant.
"Worked for Barbato how?"
Marcello only responded with a heavy stare and Liliana felt something in her stomach twist. She wouldn't ask again, she realised rather quickly she didn't want to know the specifics. Liliana had been so naïve to assume her friend had been removed from the family business. Sophia may not have the family name, but she was of the same blood as Barbato and Marcello - two men so heavily wrapped in crime that Liliana honestly wasn't sure whether a version of Marcello completely removed from the position of Mafia Don existed. It should have been of no surprise to Liliana that Sophia was involved. She should have realised much sooner.
"He was drunk, he probably didn't realise what he was saying," she argued weakly, her mind already riddled with wicked thoughts of what would happen to the man. Marcello was not known to punish lightly. Though she had not seen the full force of his power through the time they had been married, the rumours of him since before they met still lingered in her mind.
In a voice that was firm, and left absolutely no room for argument, Mercello stated, "No one speaks to you that way."
***
In the aftermath of the attack, the D'Onofrio's had moved out of the manor and into Barbato's home. The old man had left the property to both his grandson and his niece, Sophia. Liliana was infinitely thankful that she didn't have to return to the manor. Her cousins and Marcello's remaining men had moved their belongings - not that she had many - into their new home, as she had refused to step one foot back into the building.
Liliana wasn't sure whether the Barbato's mansion would be their permanent home but frankly she didn't care where she lived. As long as she could put the past horrors behind her, she was happy.
They were in the same room Liliana had stayed in before - she hadn't wanted to move to a larger room. Being somewhere familiar in the new environment was comforting to her. Staying in that room with Marcello, staying in a familiar setting that kept her at ease with all the sudden drastic changes in her life would help her cope.
Still, it wasn't enough to keep the nightmares away.
The morning after the funeral, Liliana was hunched over the toilet of their bathroom, exhausted from spending another hour at five a.m throwing up endlessly. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, both as an involuntary action from the vomiting and from the frustration of another sleepless night. When she re-emerged, the taste of her mouthwash burning her tongue, Mercello was awake and waiting for her.
This was the first night he had stayed in the Barbato property after discharging himself from the hospital. She couldn't bear to meet his eyes, knowing hers were red and swollen, as they had been all week.
"Liliana?" Marcello called out to her softly, pulling back the bedcovers and welcoming her back into the bed.
Movements sluggish, Liliana dragged her feet across the old wooden floor. She didn't want to talk, not yet. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep until she no longer felt so exhausted or overwhelmed – however unlikely that seemed to be.
Marcello said nothing when she finally joined him in bed again, only reaching out to gently hold her to his chest. Liliana was careful not to lean on his injuries – so very worried she would only hurt him further, but she couldn't deny the comfort she felt in his arms.
The silence between them, the safety she felt in his presence, had Liliana breaking down quickly and heavily. She spent the next hour with Marcello in bed, sobbing.
The two of them only emerged from their room when it was much later in the day and they immediately became the subject of concerned glances from both Angelo and Sophia, and even at times her cousins who had yet to return home to Italy.
Liliana spent a lot of time – when she wasn't with Marcello – talking to Marco. He had informed her that Zia Adelina would be arriving at the end of the week, but Liliana couldn't find the energy to feel excited.
As the days passed in the home Liliana was beginning to grow concerned. Mercello had barely spoken to her and she was unsure whether he was struggling to cope with his injuries and the reality of the horrors they had endured, or if she had done something to upset him during his recovery. She knew that he could be sensitive when it came to him feeling weak or inferior. He didn't like the reminder that not everything could be done himself and that, with his injuries, he was no longer the strong independent man he prided himself on being.
"Are you okay?" Liliana murmured, eyeing her husband carefully. He was laying in their bed, flat on his back yet his head was turned away from her with his eyes closed. He wasn't asleep yet, as he had only just settled and while it was possible he was simply listening to the soft music Liliana was playing - something she found to help ease them both of their recent troubles sleeping - his demeanour had been off with her for a while.
He acted different than he did with Angelo and Sophia, and even her cousins, which only led her to worry. Clearly his poor mood was specific to her.
"I'm fine," Marcello uttered firm - not rudely, but quietly and certainly insincere.
"And yet you haven't looked at me all day."
Liliana sat up with a huff, crossed legged on their bed; the bed sheets crumpled in her lap as she watched Marcello in concern. She was biting her lip, trying to fight the anxiety building up at the thought that something was deeply wrong.
He looked so handsome, and peaceful, under the soft lighting of their bedside lamp. The warm glow cast shadows on the angular features of his face - one that, while still bruised, was no longer swollen. When she looked at him in this past week, Liliana often found herself to be overwhelmed by the surge of emotion that warmed her inside and out.
She wanted nothing more to touch him, to sink into his embrace and offer him the comfort of her love in return. And it pained her to see him flinch in her company, to watch his eyes drop from the sight of her and his conversation to lull in her presence. She couldn't bear to be the cause of his discomfort.
He had been quiet with her this past week, not speaking to her much and yet not ignoring or avoiding her. She appreciated greatly that Marcello rarely left her side, and as much as she had been looking after him and making sure he ate and rested so he could heal, he would also make sure she did not forget to eat in her worry. When Liliana would awake too early in the morning feeling sick to her stomach, Marcello would welcome her back to bed in the comfort of his arms; and when she became overwhelmed with her emotions and couldn't help but cry, he was there once again to hold her and assure her everything was okay.
"I just need time."
"Time?"
Time for what? Time apart? Time alone?
Liliana's hands curled into fists in the bedsheets.
She didn't want more time away from here, she couldn't even bear the thought. Not only did she know she would crumble without him, but she worried for Marcello's well-being as well. He hadn't said a word, but she knew he suffered nightmares every night. He would groan and shift in his sleep, sounding to be in great pain, and yet he wouldn't share with her what he endured.
The only thing she could do was be by his side throughout it all.
"To come to terms with -" He cut himself off with a sigh. "I'm not in the interest of forcing you to do anything anymore, we're long passed that – I understand the terribly mistakes of my past. I love you, and I know you can't return those feelings for me, not yet, maybe not ever. And I need to accept that. But it's going to take time."
"You think I don't love you?" Liliana was frozen. She wasn't sure if she had even heard him correctly, the statemen sounding so unbelievable against her ears.
"I know you don't. Can't."
Was this Mercello's depression talking again? Or was he just being so unbelievably stupid?
Marcello turned away from her, his movements stiff due to his injuries. She knew it pained him to move in such a way, which made this rejection all the more painful to watch. With his shirtless back facing her, the white tape from his bandages were a stark contrast against his tanned, olive skin. It was impossible to forget the near constant pain he endured.
"Mercello," Liliana breathed, her heart beating furiously in her chest. "I fought my way through our home to find you. I stood against my grandfather to protect you. I've been by your side, loyal, worried, frightened, ever since that night. My every day is filled with watching over you and caring for you. And you think I don't love you?"
He shifted only slightly, the only evidence that he had heard her for he didn't respond.
"Marcello..." Liliana croaked, her voice becoming thick with emotion. Her chest ached deeply. If this is what it was to feel heartbreak, Liliana never wanted to experience it again. "Marcello please, look at me. Say something."
"In the hospital... you never responded." His words were mumbled, cast out into the empty space between his side of the bed and the empty wall.
When he had confessed his feelings to her. He had been barely conscious, the drugs lulling him in and out of sleep as he recovered from his injuries and the surgery. "I didn't even think you would remember that, let alone actually mean it."
"I did. I do." His voice was so impossibly quiet; meek.
Liliana was reaching forward, reaching out towards him to place a gentle palm on his shoulder. His skin was hot and smooth under her fingertips, familiar and yet foreign. This was her husband and yet it wasn't.
"Please Mercello," she begged. Finally, finally, he turned to look at her. His eyes were tinged red, and she knew that he was fighting so hard to stop any tears from falling. "We can't go on like this, where we create distance between us rather than speaking openly. So much has happened to us both, and we're going to have a child, we have to work together, Mercello. I promise I won't push you away anymore, but I need you to promise me the same. Because I can't do this alone, and I can't be in a marriage where I feel isolated; and I want to be in this marriage, I want to be with you. I do love you."
A tense moment of silence transpired between them before Marcello found the right words to respond.
"I'm here for you. I am. I promise." He paused, searching her gaze.
Liliana took the initiative to lean forward and press her lips softly to his. Her body longed to feel his intimate embrace once again, but this wasn't the time. First, they needed to heal both physically and emotionally.
Both she and Marcello's family history was dark, and riddled with the same obstacles they faced now, but they could work past them. Liliana was not her mother, and Marcello was not his.
Marcello cupped Liliana's cheeks, kissing her back just as softly, his tender touch conveying the same emotions that rushed through Liliana and had her relaxing into his arms.
When Mercello finally pulled away, putting only an inch of distance between them, he uttered firmly, "I think we should speak to someone, a professional, together. I need help, and I don't think I can go alone."
"I'm here for you, I promise," Liliana repeated his words, a bittersweet smile spreading across her face. They still had a long way to go, together, until they could be happy and healthy again, but they had each other for support; they could do it. It would take time, but Liliana truly believed they could be happy.
THE END.
This is the last chapter guys! It's over! I think I may cry; I'm going to have to throw myself into my next writing project STAT.
Once again, we have a look at Liliana and Mercello's mental health problems and I've finished the story without that facet of their lives being resolved because sometimes mental health problems aren't ever solved, but they're managed through a combination of therapy, medication, exercise and healthy diets; and it's important that they're seeking help. In this Liliana is shown to have little motivation and a desire to always sleep/not be awake which is a sign of depression. Mercello is experiencing low self esteem and feeling hopeless in this chapter. Remember guys, it's not shameful to seek help if you think you have mental health problems! In the UK approximately 1 in 4 people will experience some kind of mental health problem each year whether it's them personally or someone they know.
I just want to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has supported this story throughout the years. I am so infinitely grateful that you guys actually took an interest in the story and enjoy my writing. Thank you to everyone that added this book to your library, voted on a chapter or left a wonderful comment and to all of you silent readers!
***
[I realise some people find this end disappointing / unsatisfactory, that there are a lot of plot holes, unanswered questions and that people also want an epilogue.
This is only a first draft of the book that I wrote over a span of about 7-8 years while juggling high school, college and University.
There will be an epilogue coming, as well as some bonus chapters.]