Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter Eighteen

A/N: Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow me!

Warning: mention of suicide, possible triggers, and grammatical errors.

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Everything changed the moment Liam took his phone call during dinner. The atmosphere around the table was the usual; awkward and silent. I was fed up quite honestly with how this family works, and truthfully, if this happened again, I would just suggest that we never eat dinner around the table with each other again.

Rosie began rambling to her mother about her adventures at the park, while Federico - who had tagged along after our long, very interesting, almost deadly run-ins at the Staples Center - snagged a piece of Will's bread off his plate.

We had done what we were sent to do: scope out the place. One alcohol bottle and measuring tape later, Rico had managed to act drunk as he approached the lone security guard, before subduing him by wrapping the tape around his neck, and tossing his unconscious body into the nearest dumpster. I watched it all happen in slow motion in the safety of the car; then, as if it were an everyday activity, he stripped the guard of his clothes - and disguised as him.

"You do this often?" I managed to tease once he signaled to me that everything was clear. From the moment I uttered that statement, it was clear that Federico was not a talker. He seemed to speak when he felt as though it was necessary, something I had noticed Liam had often done when we first met. Maybe that technique was a defense mechanism the two had come to rely on in the early stages of their life.

Michael managed to speak up, teasing Rosie about being pooped on my birds. It made the little girl - and her mother - giggle in glee. Then came William and Rico. The two could not be any different - not just looks wise, but personality wise. William has always been open, kind of loud, and humorous when I was around; Rico on the other hand, was the opposite. Mr. De Santis was often quiet, closed-off, and if he did have a sense of humor, it was probably a cold one.

Lastly, I turned to Liam. His eyes were down casted on his dinner plate, his fork murdering the salad that lay delicately on the side. His fingers visibly tightened around the fork as it made contact with the plate, making a slight noise. His jaw was shut tight and I could practically imagine his thoughts consuming him. I reach out, gently making contact with his bicep, making his jump.

"Are you - - "

My question was cut off by the ringing of his cellphone. Each separate conversation that was being held automatically quieted down, everyone turning their attention to Liam. It was obvious that he noticed his rapid gaining attention, but he didn't seem to care.

"Ciao, yeah?" He didn't speak another English word. I watch him like a hawk the entire time he's on the phone; the way the vein in his head and neck stick out, and the way he spits Italian into the phone is enough to know that the person on the other end is not talking to him about cupcakes and unicorns. Although I couldn't speak a lick of Italian, I could tell his answers were short, sweet, and straightforward.

It was about halfway through the conversation when Michael Luciano raises his head, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. William even looked as those he were about to break into a sweat in any second.

When Liam hung up, the tension in the room was so thick I was tempted to pick up a steak knife and wave it through the air - surely breaking the feel of the room. Liam shot daggers at both Michael and William before turning to his step mother and sister.

His hand wraps around the cloth napkin as he brings it up to his mouth, coughing into it. For a split second, his eyes land on me and I freeze. The look in his eyes screamed murder; their gorgeous shade of grey slowly darkening; the clenching of the jaw, the darkening of the eyes, and the pulsating of the veins. Watch out. Last time Liam looked like that, my head met concrete.