C H A P T E R E I G H T
I forked into my salad while glancing down at my plate. I truly did try to keep my eyes on my plate, but even though I was able to maintain a bent head, I glanced across at Falcone with my eyes.
My breath rushed out in a whoosh as soon as I did, but merely catching a glimpse of the sight on his face made me realize that the burn would be on my brain for the rest of time. As soon as I did, I returned my eyes to my plate.
This was due to the fact that when I looked at him, Falcone didn't look like Falcone or the man I was learning to recognize as Falcone.
Falcone resembled the Falcone from my daydreams. His face was soft, but his eyes were hard, scorching, and I could feel them burning into me even as I put salad into my mouth and looked elsewhere.
"So... well... Falcone," Dad ventured into the stillness, "did you witness any action while you were serving?"