A/N: Okay lovely readers, let's just make something clear. We're 16 chapters into the story and some of ya'll still don't know that Liam Luciano is one person. Uno person. O-N-E Dude. So... to clear the confusion. Liam Luciano is one man. I use 'Liam' and 'Luciano' when mentioning him because seriously...I find that last name sexy.

Melanie Luciano (Peters) - is Liam's stepmother and Michael's wife.
Michael Luciano - is Liam's biological father. He is also a douche.
Rosalie (Rosie) Peters - is Liam's stepsister and Melanie's daughter.
William Preston (Yes, that is indeed his last name for the story that I have failed to mention yet) - is Liam's 'best friend' whom is currently possibly...maybe...working with Michael.

Okay? Okay.

p.s. I was rushing to publish this so...beware of any spelling errors!

Oh and p.p.s. Credit goes to the maker of the cover on the top. I know who you are if I see your username again! But...I forgot it. So credit to you boo, I appreciate it!

~ ~ ~

"You hit like a bitch." His response to my cold-hearted slap threw me off, completely. I was expecting violence, I had even braced for a physically violent encounter - but it had never come. Liam had clenched his jaw tight and gathered his hands in the form of a fist, but he never hit me. He never even flinched in my direction. I remember him turning, shaking his head as he brought his hands up to his face in clear frustration. I even remember hearing him mutter a few words with an uptight emotion - words I didn't understand, considering they were foreign. Since then, he hasn't spoken a word.

Dinner was the epitome of awkward as we all sauntered back into the dining room, our plates towering with steaming macaroni and cheese, peas, and crisply warmed dinner rolls. A salad dressed with tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, toppled with Italian salad dressing finished off the wonderful meal. I sigh in a form of content as my hand wraps around my silverware, a fork full of lettuce halfway to my mouth. Melanie clears her throat loudly, allowing me time to look up and around the table.

I couldn't help but notice Melanie lifting up her hand, linking it with William as he took her hand in his. Like the wave is attempted at sport games, Will lifted his opposite hand out towards Michael, who took it hesitantly in his own. Next came Rosie, who gathered her step-fathers hand in hers, then she stopped. Liam had his hand extended towards her, but I could see the tension in between them both. Rosalie shot Luciano daggers as she lifted her hand - as if it had a weight in it - and dropped it in Liam's, neither of them clutching each other's - simply touching.

And that's when it came my turn.

My palms were sweating at the realization of what I was currently about to do. All eyes were on me as Liam clears his throat loudly, his left hand dangling at his side. I let my hand slide off my lap, and slowly reach for his own. The minute our skin touched, I felt Liam jerk his hand away - the move might have been minuscule, but I couldn't help but notice it.

"You aren't going to slap me with that hand, are you?" His voice came out soft, yet harshly. I lift my attention to his face, expecting a slight smile or even a smirk; I was wrong. I was met with lips pursed in a straight line, while his eyes bore into my forehead unforgivingly. I swallow slowly and shake my head almost unnoticeably. He gives a curt nod of understanding before wasting no time.

My hand disappears in his own, in an uncomfortable manner. Yet, I couldn't help but notice the fact that his palms were sweaty to. Mel smiles softly in our direction as she snags our hands together. I watch as the family bows their heads in unison, Melanie's lips moving in a prayer of thanks for the food.

I might get struck by lightning for this, God, I'm sorry - but no, I wasn't listening to the prayer.

I was truly sorry for the way I acted towards Liam earlier - however, finding a good time to apologize was hard. When Liam wasn't with Rosie or shooting ice-cold glares and muttering curse words in Italian to his father, he was on the phone or the computer - sometimes, even both at the same time.

My grip on Liam's hand went slack halfway through the prayer; I was jolted back to the present as the amount of pressure he was pressing down on my hand. The second after Melanie whispered, "Amen", followed by an echo of 'amens' around the table, I snatch my hand back to myself and rub my hand softly.

The next few minutes were followed by the clinking of silverware; forks stabbed at their plates, scooped their peas, and the occasional sound of someone sipping their drink filled the room. Rosie stares off into the distance, tearing a piece of her dinner roll off subconsciously. Liam was no better; he hovered his fork over his cooling plate of food before landing above his untouched salad.

"So, how was everyone's day today?" Melanie's voice was cheery and bright as always, however, I don't think she realized the somber mood everyone else seemed to be in. Michael and William were oblivious to the silence as they starred each other down; Will's expression constantly changing from surprised to nodding in understanding.

Rosie and Liam continue to stare at their plates of food, clear to the eye that their appetites had not followed them into the room. As Liam stabs a piece of healthy looking lettuce and brings it to his mouth, his face contorts into an expression of disgust.

He drops his fork with a loud clink, before dragging his chair legs across the floor without warning. I noticed the tired look in his eyes as he waved Sebastian over from the corner, pointing at his food.

Sebastian was dressed in the typical butler attire; a black suit, a bowtie hugging the collar of his shirt. A cloth napkin was draped along his delicately extended forearm as Liam commanded him, "Wrap my food up please," he fumbles with the tie around his neck as he steps away from the table, "I'm not hungry." With a professional nod, he leaves the room, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.

Like brother like sister, Rosie dropped her silverware to, a frown ceasing to form on her face as she glances up at a surprised looking Melanie. Mrs. Luciano was still staring at the passageway Liam had abruptly left under before she was pulled to the attention of her young daughter.

"What's wrong, Rosie?"

The little girl clutched her stomach as she scooted out of her seat. I notice the pair of pillows that prop her higher up on the table as her feet hit the floor. "My stomach hurts, I'm going to bed."

"-but it's only eight-"

Without another word, Rosalie snatches her last two bread rolls and jets out the room.

Maybe I was a little harsh to Liam.

Just maybe.

I follow suit, scooting out of my chair as I shoot Melanie an apologetic look. "I think I'll go check on Rosie and Liam." She smiles softly at me, but I notice a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

"Are you sure? I can talk to Rosie, really. She's just been...emotional lately. I - ''

The raising of my hand stops her mid-sentence as I nod, positive. "Really, It's okay." She seems to sigh reluctantly as I turn on my heels, ready to make a bee-line for the exit - that's when Will's voice stops me.

"Are you going to eat that macaroni?"

A breath that sounded much like a laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head no. "Eat it, Will." An excited, girl-like squeal came from his mouth as I pictured him standing up and scraping my plate into his. Sebastian gave me a genuine smile as I left the room, headed straight for the stairs.

I hit the second floors landing almost out of breath. I wouldn't exactly say I was out of shape, but I definitely wasn't in shape.

My first mission - as planned - was to apologize to Liam if he wasn't busy; but the second I looked into the direction of his closed door, the sound of sobbing stop me dead in my tracks. The cries were high-pitched and muffled as I followed the noise, stopping right in front of the crack in Rosie's door.

I gently ease the door open, cringing at the creak it made. Her nightstand lamp kept the room lit dimly, allowing me to see the covers of her bed shaking. Rosie's head of hair was hidden under her pink, Cinderella themed blankets. The crying seemed to cease for a second as I sat down on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping at my weight.

I let out a breath of nervousness as Rosie peels the blanket off of her head and faces me. Her eyes are red, swollen, and puffy due to the amount of crying she had been able to get done since she left the dinner table. Her hair was wild; sticking to her cheeks due to the dampness of tears and sticking straight up because of the blankets. The tip of her nose was a light shade of pink as she wiped her eyes with the back of her fists.

"Don't be mad at your brother," I spoke quietly and cautiously, unaware of how Rosie would respond to my words. We had spoken a few times before, but I knew this conversation would be unlike any other we had. "If anything, it's my fault that he wasn't able to eat breakfast with you this morning."

Her sniffle was the only response I got as she lowered her head to her crisp, matching pink pillow case. Silent sobs slip past her lips as tears slip out the corner of her eyes. She casts her eyes out towards her smaller sized room, locking on to something - anything - that wasn't me. Maybe this would be harder than I thought.

I lean back, my arm now supporting my back as Rosie and I sit together in silence. Her sobs get quieter as the moments pass; and when I finally look back over to her, her shoulders are only shaking slightly.

"You don't understand," her statement was nearly missed; her voice was so soft, so quiet. The tone she spoke with sounded much like displeasure. She wipes her eyes again as she lets out a loud, very audible sigh. "He's never here." Her cries increase as she sits up and wipes her eyes once more, before folding her arms and looking at me. Rosie's words were slightly stuttered due to her shaking, but understanding her was no problem at all. "He only visits on my birthday and holiday's and some random times during the year."

"Where is he all those other times?"

Her innocent shrug confirms my assumption. She has no clue.

" - and...and mom always talks about how he has a dangerous job," She casts her eyes downwards, her fingers running along the embedded diamond designs on her duvet. "She says, that one day he may not come home," when she looks up again and our eyes meet, I felt my own tears gather behind my eyes. "So I try and be with him as much as I can - ''

I sigh as I rub her leg above the blanket soothingly, urging her to continue.

" - and when he's here, he's the only one that pays any attention to me. Mom is always gone, and Mr. Michael scares me."

I can't help but laugh at that. He scares me too.

"I think both of you should apologize to each other," I gave her my honest input; the gears churned in her mind as she blinked back her tears, eventually nodding in agreement of my idea. She crawls out from under her warm sheets, her bare feet hitting the wood floor as she made her way to the door.

"Wait - '' she stops halfway, before retracting her steps and holding out her hand to me. "Come with me, please." I couldn't reject her offer; truthfully, I couldn't reject the puppy eyes and pout she was giving me. Without question, I joined her on her short journey - a door down, to Luciano's room.

As we made our way through the silent hallway, a crack of lightning filled my ears. I jumped slightly, Rosie doing the same, at the surprise. I was not a fan of thunderstorms.

"Liam?" Rosie's hand could barely hold the entire door handle in her grasp as she went to push it open; I stopped her.

"Maybe you should knock; you don't want to see your brother...naked...or something."

She nods before knocking on his door with an open palm. My mouth had just fallen open, ready to tell her to knock again louder, when an accented voice greeted us both.

"Come in."

Luciano was lying on his bed, face down. A lap top was in front of him, including three or so cell-phones. His room was hot and muggy, a thick like fog pouring out from the bathroom - where I assumed, he had just finished his shower. His eyes fluttered form the lap-top keyboard to the screen, then back again. He didn't tear his gaze away till Rosie spoke.

"I'm sorry." Never in my life had I heard those two words stated in such a truthful and honest tone. Liam's eyes drift over to me as I stand beside the window, often shooting glances outside. The sound of the trees rustling in the high winds and rain pelting the glass filled my vision and my ears. A crack of lightening fills the sky again, before disappearing. When I looked back at Liam, he's sitting on the edge of his bed, Rosie wrapping her arms around in his an apologetic hug.

He whispers something in her ear as she nods excitedly and runs out the room, leaving the two of us. I bit my lip awkwardly, considering I had come in here with Rosie - now she was gone.

Liam rakes his eyes from my feet to the top of my head, before he lays back, rolls on his stomach, and resumes the position he had before we barged in on him.

My knees hit the edge of the bed as I refuse to sit down on it. I make my way around it, till I'm facing the way he's laying; his eyebrows are touching, his eyes squinted as he scans whatever his screen his displaying. I clear my throat with a fist to my mouth, speaking without waiting for his undivided attention. "I'm sorry for hitting you today."

It wasn't until Liam rolled on his left side, his neck craning in my direction that I notice what he's wearing - or more specifically, what he isn.t. A pair of grey and black designed joggers hung lowly on his hips, so low in fact that I was certain I was getting a glimpse of his v-line. A silver, plain necklace hung around his neck - his chest, bare.

Why do attractive men refuse to wear shirts?

He looks at me - and he looks hard. I could feel his eyes piercing my soul before he shrugs and rolls back on his stomach, mumbling something that sounded much like, "It's whatever." From his response, I felt as though he didn't want to talk about what had happened earlier today.

I let a few moments past by In silence; the only sound we both heard was the storm bellowing from the opposite side of Liam's bedroom windows. I couldn't help but notice one of his three phones continuously lighting up, a notification for a new text messages.

"Your hoes are calling you."

I glance down at the I-phone that kept vibrating and lighting up. Liam let out a breath of air that sounded much like a laugh as he glances at me, taking his attention away from the computer. "That is my work phone," He points lazily at the phone that's being blown up with messages. Then he points at the two others, "That is my personal phone and this one is for Tanner Corp." I nod in understanding.

Curiosity takes over as I lean towards Liam, attempting to get a good view at what he was working on.

"It's for Mary," He read my mind as he shoots me a look over his shoulder. "Don't think I've forgotten. I'm still working on finding out who killed her - and why."

I miss Mary, I really do. She was a breath of fresh air; a friend to me, and a motherly figure to Liam - even if she oh-so happened to admit a few times that Liam was quite the looker.

"Are you going to do it? Kill them, I mean."

"I'll order the hit," Liam looks at me now, a look of determination and seriousness crossing his face, "But I won't have to lift a finger."

"You'll have to lift a check."

"I'm willing to if that means the men behind Mary's murder are waiting to catch the next train to hell."

Lightning lights the dimly lit room up for only a few seconds before it disappears. In my head, I slowly count 1-1,000, 2-1,000, 3-,1000 - boom.. The follow-up of thunder echoes in response to the lightning. I flinch subconsciously.

"You're afraid of thunderstorms?"

He knew; Liam always knew, yet he would ask questions just to confirm what he already knew. I sigh, knowing lying wouldn't be a great idea. I nod my head up and down in confirmation as Liam tears his gaze away from my forehead, his face scrunching together in a weird expression.

"Don't laugh," I state with a harsh tone, expecting him to shoot back some type of rebuttal my way. He shrugs as he closes his lap top and places it off to the side.

"I wasn't going to," At this, he came close to me, his hand brushing against my arms as he reaches for his 'mafia' phone and brings it close to his chest, unlocking it. His fingers fly across the touchscreen keyboard, his eyes scanning the previous messages in one glimpse.

I slide off the bed, giving him his privacy as I glance around the room, doing a half-circle. His room is neat and well kept; if anything was out of place, it was the single drawer on his dresser that wasn't pushed in all the way. I run a hand through my hair as a series of photographs draw me to his Mahoney dresser.

The photo was simple; a young boy and a woman stood together near the front door of a house. His smile was wide. Clearly, it was Liam and his mother - his real mother. She was a shorter woman, but beautiful to say the least. That is probably where he got his looks from.

I let my fingers run along the glass of the frame, a thin layer of dust and grime sticking to my skin as a result. The sound of the bed squeaking and footsteps approaching are in the far side of my immediate thoughts as I bore holes into the young Liam. The innocent, happy, yet-to-be-hurt Liam.

It's incredible what pain can do.

Pain changes people - sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst. In this case, I'd say the worst.

His presence was near as I rested my head back a little, bumping into his chest. His arm reaches over mine, grabbing at the corner of the picture frame. I watch him hover his fingers over the face of his mother, noticing that his breathing was soft and maybe even at times, uneven. Our fingers touch for a millisecond - but that was just enough to cause goosebumps to ripple up and down my arms and legs.

"You look constipated."

A smile crossed my face as I laugh back the tears of sadness. Everything and anything that could've gone bad in Liam's life, had. His laugh was drowned out by another strike of lightning and boom of thunder as I turned around, practically pinned in between Liam and his dresser.

He smiles softly, but there's no genuine happiness behind it. His grey eyes don't sparkle with mischief and wonder, the corners of his lips threaten to fall as they twitch; he doesn't even smile hard enough for his cheeks to split like in his photo. His eyes don't nearly close because of how hard he's smiling - and no, he doesn't look constipated.

He isn't happy.

I tilt my head ever-so to the right as Liam trains his attention on the photograph above my head; when he realizes I'm still staring, he drops his hand and glances downwards.

It was all a façade; that's all it was, that's all it ever will be. The intimidation, maybe even the abuse. He had made the decision not to slap me all the way back to the 1990's today - when he had the perfect opportunity. He could've thrown me out the window to my death; knocked me out, killed me. But he didn't. He clenched a fist and walked away without a word. He spared my life.

"I forgive you." The words seem foreign as they roll off my tongue. Liam had already angled his body towards his bed when I reached out and snagged his forearm. He leans back on his foot as he connects his eyebrows, then disconnects them. He doesn't remember. "Your apology," I remind him, "You apologized a while ago, telling me you were sorry for hitting me. I told you I would think about it, and I did. I forgive you."

Air comes out his nose as he nods.

"Besides," I tease, "You hit like a bitch anyways."

I felt somewhat accomplished as he laughed at that, another smile crossing his face at something I had said. My face flushes when I realize I'm still holding onto his forearm; one that I drop immediately at the discovery. I duck my head and let the pink fade before looking back up again. Our eyes meet in a weird, yet longing stare. He's analyzing me, studying me; attempting to read my thoughts.

"What are you afraid of?" I blurt the question out in one word, simply nervous under his long stare. His mouth falls open as the wheels behind his eyes turn, searching for an answer in the hole between his ears.

Just kidding, I'm sure he had a brain; despite how small it may be.

His eyes dart around the room in an anxious manner as he shakes his head. "No way am I telling you." Was all he said when our eyes reconnected, making me laugh. I take a step forward.

"Come on Liam, tell - ''

I was positive lightning had hit the Luciano household when the familiar crackling sound came louder than ever before. The floor shook momentarily and before I could recover my balance, the lights went out.

Pitch black.

"Liam," I groan obnoxiously as the teasing in my voice fails to subside. He let out a shaky breath from somewhere in front of me.

"It wasn't me this time, I swear." I mentally picture him holding his hands out in a defensive manner.

A loud, screeching scream which could only come from Rosie was belted out mere seconds after the lights went out. I heard a deep voice belonging to William say, "You're okay, Rosie." A tone of annoyance forming a circle around his words.

"Faith," Liam breaths my name as I reach out, internally scared of what I would end up grabbing. My hand finds his chest as his, too, finds mine. He retracts his hand quickly, a laugh on his lips as we step closely to each other.

I couldn't see him, but I could tell he was near. I glance upwards, staring into an area in the dark that I was certain his head was.

Liam's hands found their way to my shoulders as he elevated his right hand and cuffed my cheek. I didn't have any sort of time to react as his face neared mine, our lips brushing together in the process.

When he spoke, his voice was shaky and wavering.

"I'm afraid of the dark."

~ ~ ~

William Preston

20 minutes earlier...

"You're not hungry, come on."

Michael Luciano's order-like statement came out in a bellowing, deep voice. His statement was confusing as I sat there, the most innocent look on my face as I brought the bread roll to my mouth - taking a large bite out of it. I watch his scoot out of his seat and speak to Melanie in Italian; she nods, runs a hand through her thick, hair, and calls Sebastian to take up the remaining food.

I, too, scoot out of my seat - but not before I grab two more rolls from the bread basket. I have to jog to catch up with Michael's long strides as he turns right, but he doesn't head for the front door - heads for that dark, dank sinister office of his.

The room smells like alcohol and smoke - like he hadn't opened a window in here in decades. As I follow him inside, I make sure to keep a crack in the doors. Michael makes his way to his desk slowly, much slower than I had ever seen him move before.

Not only were his movements lacking, but he looked older. There were a few more wrinkle and worry lines ceasing his face than there were a few days ago. Not only that, but bags hung low over his eyes; hinting that he wasn't getting enough sleep. Then again, I expected that, and so should he. Living a stressful life wasn't easy.

"This shouldn't take long," He bends down slowly, a pained expression crossing his face as he eases himself into his chair. I quirk an eyebrow at his expression and he just laughs it off, waving in the process. "Don't worry about me." As he settles himself in his seat, I march forward and plop down opposite of him, my hands folded. " - These guys jumped me yesterday," he explains, as he leans back, his arms extended over the chairs armrests.

"Thugs or...?" My question was a legit, answerable question. In L.A, especially in certain parts that Michael visited, gangs were quite common. He shook his head.

"I have no fucking clue," He lets out a shaky breath as he adjusted his seating position, hoping it helped ease the pain. "I have to believe it was a hit." A hit was known as an order given on a certain individual - most were ordered to kill that person, sometimes just to rough him up. My eyebrows rose in surprised.

"Who wants to kill you?"

"Lots of people; but Liam does."

I couldn't help but shrug at that. If Liam knew everything, he would certainly kill Michael without another moment's hesitation.

I shift nervously in my seat as the mention of Liam brings up many discarded thoughts.

" - but," Michael cuts my string of thought's short, "that isn't why I wanted to talk to you." He sighs and clears his throat. "I felt like you deserved to know everything."

"I - I really - '' I did want to know everything, but I decided to close my mouth and listen.

Michael leans back in his seat and sighs once again, "Not only did Mr. Mitchell owe me money, but Ellie owed me something as well. By killing them both, I took our two birds with one stone."

I frown as he leans forward.

"Ellie was working for me."

My mouth drops as snippets and short scenes of Ellie Mitchell replays in my mind. She had a refreshing smile and a bubbly personality; constantly making Liam laugh and smile. I couldn't picture her working for a man like him - yet again, I couldn't picture myself doing this either.

When Michael notices that I made no intent to speak, he continues. "I first met Ellie when Liam brought her home. At the time, her family needed money, so I gave it to her - but only in return, for marrying my son. She never loved Liam."

"You can't - ''

"It was like an arranged marriage, except Liam had no clue."

My voice comes out small as I question, "Then what happened?"

In a serious manner, our eyes meet as Michael lets out an exhale of air. "She went to the authorities; told them what I was doing, bribing her and threatening her."

"She broke...?"

He nods.

"She broke Omertá."

~ ~ ~

A/N: Don't hate me. Nope, they didn't kiss. Or will they...? Or...won't they? Dun, Dun, Dunnnn. Whoever assumed Ellie was 'bad' a while ago, bravo. You were the one to get that right.

I felt like a lot of you all were harsh to my babe, Rosie thoughhhh! Poor thing, I'll hug you Rosie. *hugs*

Anyways, so I entered this story in the Watty's so.....vote for me? Pretty please? Lol.

Oh! College starts tomorrow guys... I'm going to go cry the rest of my summer away. *sigh* I'll still continue to try and update as quickly as possible! But please don't spam me with "update please"!

What do you think of Ellie now?!

Faith and Liam's mini-moment? What will come of it?