Chapter 5

Mariana could feel her life flashing before her. Was he going to pull the trigger? She wasn't sure.

In her twenty-one years of living, she'd never had a gun pressed to her head. Never felt cold metal against her temple. Never felt as if her life could be gone, just like that. Never been in such a situation before.

The cold in her vein froze to ice.

Marcello's voice cut through the drumming of blood in her ears. It was low and smooth, and she grabbed onto it like a life raft. "Put it down, Vincent."

"I won't. You killed my uncle!" The barrel shook against Mariana's head, and her lungs compressed.

"Tell your man to drop his gun, Federico!" Jacopo said to Federico.

Mariana glanced at Marcello, only to stare at the end of a barrel. He was going to shoot the man behind her, but what if he missed?

"You're going to shoot your wife, Marcello." Vincent's heated voice vibrated against her neck. "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth."

Mariana's heart was beating so fast.

One. Two. Three.

Bang Bang.

Two gunshots.

Something warm and wet hit her face. Her ears rang as the voices around her sank underwater. The man's arm fell from her, and a thud sounded as he hit the ground.

Numbness flooded Mariana. She could hear distant voices. What had just happened?

"Sit down!" Marcello snapped at her.

It took a moment for his words to process and for her to realise everyone sat rigidly in their chairs except for Marcello, Jacopo and Federico.

Marcello's unreadable gaze touched her skin as she glanced at the gun in his hand. He had shot the man behind her, straight in the head.

She could taste the blood of the man at the corner of her lips. Yuck!

She felt like puking.

He had freaking shot a man twice behind her. What if he had missed?

"Sit down, tesorino." He winked at her.

She dropped into her chair.

The warmth of blood dripped down her cheek. Red had splattered on her wedding gown and also on her chair.

She sat there, her gaze meeting Elena's, who had her mouth agape then closed it as if nothing had happened.

Conversations began and it was like nothing had happened. It was like someone hadn't been killed just a second ago.

Was this how they all behaved?

Mariana shuddered at the thought of being one of them now.

Her eyes met with Marcello who stared at her intently as if he was about to devour her.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and averted her gaze from him.

Marcello's lips curled up as his eyes skimmed round the table , Federico looked like he had something to say but he kept it to himself, while Marcello's family kept their eyes downcast on their deserts, the women sat stiffer than the chairs they sat on, the men had nonchalant looks.

Leaning back, he rested a forearm on the table and focused his gaze on the cigarette between his fingers. The anger was strong enough that he had to choke it down. It burned in his throat, his chest and ruined his vision with a red mist.

"You shot one of my men…" Federico finally spoke up.

"He pointed a gun at my woman." Marcello returned.

What was this man doing here?

He tightened the cigarette between his fingers, trying to quell the itch. He only smoked when he was pissed off or unsettled.

Federico and Jacopo stood up to shake hands and the view of the same tattoo on the wrists of the men caught Marcello's attention.

Yes, Federico also had the same tattoo as Jacopo and the unknown man who had killed his parents.

It only left Marcello confused and unsure of who to point out as the killer.

Federico or Jacopo?

That doesn't matter right now. A flash of anger had pulsed in his chest from Vincent's disrespect and the fact he was threatening his wife. The overwhelming feeling rushed over him that only he could threaten her–so he did what he had to do, he fucking shot the bastard straight in the head twice and watched the blood splatter against Mariana's wedding gown.

'I only kill those that deserve to be killed.' Marcello always says to his victims before killing them.

He turned his head to where Mariana sat beside him. His eyes narrowed. No one fucking touches what he already own.

She must be shaken by what had happened today but she has to get used to it because;

She was his now. 

Looking entertained, he watched the blood drip down her olive skin. così caldo. So hot.

He was going to ignore the feeling and he did.

"You need to take a bath." He told her.

The attention of the people turned to them, including Gabriella who couldn't hide the angry look on her face.

Mariana turned to look at him.

"Victoria." He called and she came forward. "Show my wife to my bedroom."

Mariana padded down the carpeted hall, trailing behind Victoria.

"I'm sure you must be shocked by what happened today." Victoria said. "You'll get used to it."

"I don't think I can. I'm not used to any of…" Victoria interrupted Mariana.

"You're now Sir Marcello's wife. You will have a lot of enemies before you know it." She stopped at a door. "This is his bedroom. There are a few new clothes about your size in the nylon on the bed."

"Who is Gabriella?" Mariana asked the first thing that came into her mind before Victoria could walk away.

"She is the daughter of the boss. I will be honest with you, señora. Stay clear from her. You have what she wants." Victoria said before leaving Mariana to her thoughts.

'What does she mean by that? I have what she wants. And what is it that she wants?' Mariana thought.

As soon as she entered the room, she contemplated how she could ever survive in this house, how she could survive Marcello Colombo.

And the worst thing about it was his bedroom smelled so damn good. The events of today hit her like a jolt, leaving a numbness behind that only his masculine scent seemed to penetrate it. Instead of the prickling sense of panic, the smell of expensive soap and sandalwood were the only thing calming her.

It was as though her body focused on his smell. His bedroom had a calm atmosphere. It showed a lot about his intimate self. Like, the curtains being shut and his black towel laid on a couch on the other side of the room. A nylon bag laid on his unkempt bed.

For a man who shoots a man without blinking, his bedroom shows he has a messy lifestyle.

He should have had a maid clean up his room unless he doesn't like people invading his privacy or touching his things.

Everything about him was black just like his heart.

Mariana made a scowl, pulled off the wedding gown. Bypassing the mirror, she climbed in and turned on the shower.

It was cold. Freezing.

Something had to wash off everything that had happened. Her father's crimes, her marriage, this family and the blood of a man on her body.

She closed her eyes.

Was she scared?

Yes.

Was she afraid of Marcello?

She had no idea.

The thought of her having to perform her duties as a wife came into her mind. She expected herself to shiver from fear but instead she was calm.

Her eyes flew open.

She had used his shampoo. Now she smelled like him. She inhaled deeply.

She slipped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around herself.

As she reached for the door handle, it opened, and she collided with something.

A lungful of air escaped her. She would have slipped and landed to her butt on the floor, but an arm wrapped around her waist as she teetered backward and steadied her. It was an incredibly warm and large arm.

"Cazzo," Fuck. Marcello muttered with annoyance. He had almost forgotten that he now has a wife and he has to share his space with her.

Mariana's nipples tightened behind the towel as it pressed against Marcello's chest. The contact made her tingle everywhere, but she didn't have time to analyse the feeling any more as she was spun out of his way and he walked into the bathroom.

"I'm sure you don't want to watch me wee. Close the door on your way out." He told her.

She took one last glance at him before walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She waited for him to finish before she started dressing.

He came out, she looked up and their eyes met.

She was still angry about what happened an hour ago.

"What if you had missed?" She asked.

"What are you talking about?" He knew what she was talking about.

"You shot a man behind me! What if you had missed?"

His eyes darkened. "I never miss a shot."

There was silence between them for a moment.

"How long are you going to keep me here?" Mariana threw another question at him.

"As long as it pleases me. You're my wife. You stay." 

"I'm not going to be your hostage."

"You are, already."

"I'm not."

"I don't have time for such a childish argument." He told her, heading to the door before he stopped in front of it and turned to face her. His eyes clouded with nothing but lust. Her breathing swallowed as his gaze trailed down the drips of water running down her body.

His attention settled on her faze again, his gaze narrowed. "Put on a cloth, ."

Then he left her without another word, and she couldn't help but think…

What had she just seen in those eyes of his?

She searched for a suitable cloth to wear for the night but realised all the clothes in the nylon were nothing but short or transparent.

Were they expecting her to seduce Marcello?

There were lingeries, crop tops, two black shot gowns, two black leggings and shorts.

She wore one of the crop tops and a short before going to lay on the bed.

It wasn't like she had anyone that loves her back in her home.

John, who she was in love with, was already in a relationship with her sister.

And, she had no friends.

She was more of an introverted person.

Mariana had to accept the truth that she was stuck here and she had nowhere to go. 

Too exhausted to think anymore, she pushed all her thoughts aside, closing her eyes to sleep. Breathing in his cologne from the pillow and it instantly relaxed and calmed her, easing her into a peaceful sleep.

The following day.

The scent of cigar woke Mariana. It invaded her senses, mixing with the deep, earthy and masculine scent embedded in the walls of the bedroom.

She sat up from the bed and met Marcello's gaze from behind his desk, self-consciously running her fingers through her long hair. 

Her skin tightened at the awareness of how short her shorts were. She rubbed her hands on her bare thighs, and searched for her voice, as it seemed to lose itself in his presence.

He rocked back in his leather chair, smoking.

A small smile appeared on his face. "Has anyone told you that you talk while you sleep?"

She chewed her lip. "It is inappropriate to watch someone sleep."

He was still black from head to toe, but today his hair was slightly messy, as if he'd run those inked fingers through it, and judging by the twirl of smoke rising from the ashtray on his desk, he was smoking a cigar in what seemed to be early in the morning. It was obvious he didn't spend the night in his bedroom and Mariana was glad to know that.

He chuckled softly. "I wasn't watching you but had to when I heard you mutter my name in your sleep." 

Mariana's eyes widened. What had she said while she was sleeping?

"Did I say…?" Anything improper.

"No, you didn't." He replied as if knowing what she was about to ask.

"You smoke?" She raised a brow.

"Yes."

"It isn't good for your health." She muttered under her breath.

He looked amused."Are you worried about me?"

"No. I'd rather slit my wrists than worry about you."

Anger filled him. 

He didn't say anything for a moment.

They stared at one another not until Mariana dropped her gaze.

He was too intimidating.

"Go take your bath. We are going downstairs to have breakfast."

Downstairs to have breakfast?

"Everyone is going to be there?"

"Yes." He replied.

Even Gabriella.

The woman who she was warned to stay clear from.