"Is that so..." Marcello narrows his eyes at him. "Should I remind you that the daughter in question is also my daughter?" Him claiming my daughter as his warms my heart in a way I'd never thought possible.
He doesn't wait for an answer as his hand grips the end of the fork and pulls hard. In one fluid motion, the fork comes off, together with Franco's eye. The blood pools down his face, and his screams echo in the room.
Marcello swirls the fork up in the air, looking at it with a bored expression.
"Anyone else have anything to say about my family?" He turns to face the crowd and dares anyone to say something.
There's shushed voices in the background, but no one outrightly intervenes. In a shocking gesture, Marcello drops the eye into his wine glass. He tips the glass up.
"Cheers." He says before downing the contents.
Some women are passing out, others are heaving and emptying the contents of their stomachs. Even some men look a little bit yellow in the face.
But no one says anything.
Marcello stops again in front of a bawling Franco and tells him something that I can't quite make out. Whatever it is, it's making Franco look even more ill than before.
"Did you say anything? I didn't hear you." Marcello says out loud.
A bloody Franco, still on his knees, does his best to crawl towards me.
"I'm sorry." His head is hung low, his voice laced with pain.
"Still didn't hear you." Marcello echoes, and Franco grits his teeth.
"I'm sorry." This time it's loud enough for everyone to hear.
Benedicto emerges from the back of the crowd, clapping.
"Bravo!" He shakes his head in admiration. "Bravo!"
He takes the glass still housing the eye from Marcello, and comes towards his brother.
"What did I tell you, fratello?" He does a tsk sound.
"How... how can you let him do this to me?" Franco stammers, his face taut with shock.
"I didn't. You did." He shrugs, and then flips the glass so that the eyeball falls out on the ground.
Franco immediately makes a go for it, but Marcello is one step ahead of him – literally. There's a soft sound as the eye gets squished under Marcello's shoe, and Franco becomes hysterical.
I don't even have time to process as I'm being whisked away by my husband.
"What was that?" I whisper in confusion. The entire episode had been... I'm simply shocked.
"I may have implied that he can get his eye reattached, if some conditions are met."
"He can?" I ask in wonder.
"Not anymore."
We get inside the car and the entire ride home; Marcello doesn't let go of my hand.
As he drives, I sneak glances at his profile, and I fall for him a little more.
For some people, his actions may seem too cruel, but for me they meant the world. No one's publicly stood up for me before.
Marcello doesn't know it yet.
But he's just become my guardian angel.
THE MOMENT WE MAKE it home, he swoops me in his arms and takes me to my room.
"Shh, don't speak." He whispers in my hair as he lays me down on my bed, his wild eyes assessing my torn dress and my bruised flesh.
He turns his back to me and goes into the bathroom. I can hear the sound of water, and I think he's drawing me a bath.
"Marcello?" I ask tentatively.
He reemerges, coming towards me slowly. With an anguished look he falls at my feet and puts his head on my lap.
"I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry... It's all my fault." He cries, his voice full of emotion.
My hand goes to his hair, and I slowly run my fingers through it.
"It's not your fault, love. It's not." How could he have prevented that man from assaulting me? In the women's restroom of all places.
"What you did for me... how you defended me." I shake my head, my eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "No one's ever done that before. No one's stood up for me like that. And because of that, you're my hero." I tell him tenderly.
"I'm no one's hero." He speaks after a brief pause. "Hero... me," he gives a dry laugh. "if you only knew..."
His hands come around my middle and he hugs me.
"So sorry," he keeps mumbling.
We stay like that for a while, and I revel in the warmth of his body next to mine. I feel safe... so safe. Taking me in his arms once again, he enters the bathroom, placing me next to the almost-filled tub. Marcello looks conflicted as his gaze moves from me to the tub and back to me.
"I..." he starts but shakes his head. "I'll be outside." He visibly swallows before turning to leave.
"Wait, please!" The words are out of my mouth before I can overthink it.
"Stay." I don't know where this courage is coming from, but as I look into his eyes, I know I can do this. I can show him my most vulnerable self.
With shaky fingers, I pull at the side zipper of my dress and shimmy out of it. I'm now standing only in my bra and underwear. Marcello's gaze darkens as it moves over my form and a shiver goes up my spine.
I can do this!
Before I chicken out, I stretch my arms behind me and snap the clasp of my bra, letting it fall.
"Lina," Marcello groans, and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
With what courage I have left I quickly take off my underwear and climb inside the tub.
The scorching temperature of the water gives me goosebumps, and I grit my teeth at the painful heat.
It doesn't take me long to get accustomed to the water. I gaze up and see that Marcello is still standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me.
"Can you help me?" I lift up a sponge and hold it to him. I don't know where this is coming from... this forwardness... but I don't want him to leave.
He comes towards me, folding the sleeves of his shirt. When he's next to the tub, he kneels down and takes the sponge from my hands.
He lathers a good amount of liquid soap on to the sponge and then starts to tend to my arm. His movements are slow, the feel of the sponge soft on my skin.
He moves up to my collarbone and I have to swallow hard at the sensation. I sneak a glance at him and he's not unaffected either. Marcello tends to both of my arms before getting ready to move to my back.
I grab his hand, suddenly remembering what he's about to see.
"It's not pretty." I whisper, but slowly turn my back to him.
I'm afraid at his reaction. I can't see it, but I can tell he's shocked by his immediate intake of breath.
"Lina..." his voice is soft, his breath almost touching my skin. Then I realize how close he is to me.
"Mar..." I trail off when I feel his lips on my back, right where my scar begins. He starts tracing the contour of the scar with his lips, and my eyes tear up.
"You're beautiful, Lina. So, so beautiful." His voice is like a balm to my heart. There's this warmth... I don't think I've ever felt like this before. This emotion, bigger than life, expands in my chest and seeks to get out. I tense, painfully gripping the edge of the tub.
Dear Lord, what is this feeling?
The sponge touches my skin again, and Marcello continues with his ministrations. By the time he's done I'm breathing hard, and I don't know whether it's from the steam in the water or...