With two paper cups of coffee in hand, Ilaria stepped carefully downstairs and used her back to push through the glass lobby door of her building and out into the chill autumn morning. The sun reflected off the windshield of the oh-so-impressive Mercedes pulled up at the curb, and before she had a chance to even think about where to set the cups to open her rear passenger door, Cesare's tall frame blocked the light and greeted her with a smile. She smiled back, handing him one of the cups while dislodging the carryon from her shoulder and flinging it inside the door after he so graciously opened it. 

"Chivalry is not dead," she mused aloud. Sliding onto the seat, she smiled happily at the driver. "Hi!"

Ricardo passed her a glance in the rearview mirror, not bothering to turn around. "Ma'am," he muttered. Ilaria raised a curious eyebrow, but was soon preoccupied with the sight of Cesare folding into the seat beside her. He carried himself with an elegance of form that was nearly unnerving. In another lifetime, he could have been a model.

"Hope I got it right. Your coffee. I wasn't paying much attention the other night. What with the gratuitous thieving and singing," she said, sipping from her own cup as the car pulled away from the curb more roughly than it should have. She caught herself from pouring the hot liquid down her front just in time, and looked up to see Ricardo jeering a bit.

"I don't think your man likes me too awful much," she said quietly.

Cesare passed a stern glance into the rear view mirror as the car lurched forward, "No, he's just got a lead foot is all," he said, looking into his bodyguard's eyes, "I'm sure he's very sorry for nearly spilling both our coffees."

Ricardo averted his gaze and stared straight ahead as he begrudgingly answered, "Yes.. I apologize Miss..."

"There." He turned back to Ilaria, who had cautiously raised her cup back to her lips. She seemed unconvinced but perhaps courtesy held her from saying more. Her golden hair fell over the seat of the car as he turned and laid a knee over the middle seat between them, turning halfway in the seat to face her. He threw an arm casually over the back of the seat.

"You look.." there was an unnatural pause as he caught himself looking at the coat falling over her shoulders, "lovely."

He quickly flung his eyes back up to hers, as green as the earth ever produced itself, "We've got about an hour and a half drive into the city. I've been thinking about what we ought to do. I'm sure there's a show on Broadway that's worth seeing, and there's any kind of food you could ever want."

"French," she said, not thinking. She'd never had it, and would likely hate it, but watching Torretta's mouth as he spoke made the decision for her.

"Le Veau D'or. My girlfriend ate there once. Apparently, it was so good she never came back home. Married the host," she laughed, patting Cesare's arm in good humor. His leg cocked between them held her gaze longer than it should have. Tearing her eyes from it, she continued. 

"And Broadway, geez, that'll have to be your call. I trust your judgement...you could take me to an alley full of howling tomcats and tell me it's art and I'd likely believe you," she smiled at him. 

"Don't you have business to attend to as well, though? Please don't feel as though you need to indulge me if you have other things to attend to. I can entertain myself," she added as she looked at him. Her hair caught on a thread of his coat sleeve that rested on the headrest behind her, but she made no move to disengage it.

"Don't worry, it's nothing serious at all. In fact, my business will probably be conducted in the course of our exploring. You probably won't even know it's happening." He smiled back at her. She had this soothing presence that eased him more than anything had in a long time. He lifted his fingers along the back of the chair and allowed her hair to fall between as he relaxed them. He absentmindedly twirled a golden lock around them

"Le Veau D'or it is, then." Cesare said loud enough for Ricardo to hear. Then he turned back to Ilaria and placed his free hand on his knee. He had to try his best not to stare. Somehow small talk was difficult. They'd already seemingly done so much more than the average acquaintance, he'd stolen from an art gallery and sat in her living room on the same day. To say she had his attention would be an gross understatement, perhaps that is why Ricardo had soured. Cesare knew he didn't approve of this trip, but he'd do as he was told.

"Perhaps we should just pick a show at random after dinner and make an adventure of it? If it's terrible we can have fun ridiculing it from our box seats." Cesare grinned as a strand of hair tightened around his finger.

As she listened to the suggestion, her eyes flicked down to where his finger had a hold of one of her curls. Then they moved to his left hand, which was now devoid of a wedding ring. Something had shifted since she'd last seen him, and whatever it was caused her to tighten her grip on her coffee. 

"That sounds like more fun than I've had in...ever, probably. But doesn't that sort of behavior get you removed? From the...box...seats..." she said as the slight tension on her hair forced a chill down her neck and into her chest. No one had ever touched her hair like that before; the closest to it was when John had dragged her across the room once by a fistful of it, pulling out a healthy chunk as he plowed her face into a cabinet door.

Struggling now for anything neutral to say, she backtracked over his words.

"May I ask where your business-that-doesn't-seem-like-business takes place? Or are you not allowed to say?"

"More like I'm not entirely sure myself." He replied as his hand filled with gold before his very eyes, "I'm sorry to be so cryptic about it, I'm half blind to it myself, I simply expect business to be done."

He wanted to tangle himself into her hair and never be released. "And no, I suspect they'll let us laugh and carry on as much as we'd like in the theater. We'll have a section of the balcony to ourselves, almost like a private viewing booth."

Their talk descended into the normalcy of travel as the eastern countryside zipped past them from city to city. They passed the growing suburbs of New York after an hour or so, and Cesare's fingers danced with her curls the entire way. He didn't hide it, she didn't pull away, and so it continued as he became more and more entwined in her golden web.  Soon the iconic skyline came into view as they passed over the bridge into Manhattan proper.

"There it is, the Big Apple." Cesare remarked as they flew across the bridge, "Have you ever been before?"

Suddenly Cesare became aware of the unknown number of possibilities he was speeding towards...

The skyline came into view, and she wasn't prepared for it. She'd seen pictures, movies, even...but the enormity of it floored her. Nothing in Philly looked like this.

Most of the view was on Cesare's side of the car. She leaned towards him to try and see the Empire State Building as it neared, shaking her head in awe. Her hair dragged through his fingers one last time, but brushed the lapel of his coat now as she spoke.  

"I never have, no. I had no idea. You're very lucky to have a reason to visit, Mr. Torretta," she said, wondering how people didn't get lost here, every day. Ricardo pulled up to Le Veau D'or, and valets immediately descended on the car, opening both rear doors. Ilaria had a moment to wonder if she wasn't vastly underdressed, but there was nothing for it, now. She stood under the porte co·chère and waited for Cesare to round the car after exchanging a few words with Ricardo, who soon sped off. 

"Definitely dislikes me," she smirked playfully as he approached her. Before he could reply, the doorman shoved open the heavy glass entrance and they were ushered inside and towards the hostess stand. The hostess herself took their coats and smiled at them. 

"Reservations under...?"

"Torretta," Cesare replied. She nodded respectfully at him and signaled a waiter to take them to their table, a particularly nice one next to a large window with a view of what looked to be a side patio full of greenery. The waiter pulled out Ilaria's chair for her quickly, and she bore witness to the second look of mild defeat on Cesare's face inside of five minutes' time. She grinned across the table at him and indicated the table for two with her hand.

"I wasn't sure if lunch would include business associates. Looks like I don't need to worry too awful much about minding my manners," she beamed. 

Cesare smiled back at her, he was happy to be a part of her first trip into the city. He tried to remember what it was like his first time stepping off the plane and into the steel jungle, but that was so long ago now.

"No, there's no need for manners here," Cesare grinned looking around the room as he tried to extend a leg beneath the table. He'd been sitting in the car for hours and would be seated more before the night was out. As his leg moved forward, he felt his ankle brush Ilaria's. His eyes shot upwards to hers which met them.

At that moment the waiter arrived and accepted their orders.

"Coquilles Saint-Jacques, for myself with a sauvignon blanc, si vous plait, and..."

Cesare looked back at Ilaria as he rotated his leg against hers, "whatever this angel's heart desires." He let out a knowing grin as she ordered.

Ilaria flinched at the contact, eyes meeting Cesare's for a long moment before she relaxed into it. This man would not break her, burn her, beat her, or belittle her. She didn't know him...but somehow, she did. Everything in her said that if she could trust anyone, Cesare Torretta was that person. When the waiter came for their orders, it took a lot of effort to tear her eyes from his.

"Oh. Uh, I'll give the escargot a try. And can you just bring a carafe of The sauvignon blanc? Thank you. WAIT!" She called out before he could take two paces away from their table. Her bravery was only going so far today. "Could you bring the gougère as well? Just in case," she said, already second guessing an order of garden pests. Once the waiter nodded and left, she breathed in and looked again at the man seated across from her who was somehow making mere ankle contact an incredibly sensual experience. Clearing her throat, she sought something clever to say, but the waiter was already coming back with the wine. He poured two glasses, assured them that their orders were already underway, and nodded slightly before retreating once more.

"They're quite on top of things. No wonder their reputation is so good," she said, pausing for a long moment as her gaze dropped from Cesare's face to the condensation forming on the side of the carafe. After a moment's hesitation, she crossed one booted foot over the other, effectively locking his foot between hers. She reached for her wineglass then, then lifted it. 

"To the city that never sleeps...?"

Cesare wondered how many times he'd be smiling at this girl before the night was through, but did yet again as she lifted her glass. He joined her in the toast,

"and to never sleeping." he finished before raising the glass to his lips. The whole experience seemed surreal. There was nothing about Ilaria that wasn't charming to him. The way she gripped the stem of her glass between her fingers, or the way her eyes flitted from one thing to the next, following each new experience before finding their way back to him.

He was happy. It was a foreign experience of late, but he was; completely, utterly, serenely happy. He had the feeling that he was absolutely beaming at her when she looked at him and had to avert his gaze more than once to keep his pride. Eventually the food arrived, the waiter placed their plates and excused himself as Cesare waved him off of refilling their wine, insisting on doing it himself. As he poured the wine into Ilaria's glass, he followed her eyes to the plate of snails before her, wondering what her reaction would be.

Wow. They even looked like the bugs she'd been paid a penny apiece to pick out of her mother's garden as a child. Ilaria's stomach lurched, and she grabbed her glass and took another sip of wine to buy herself some time. Cesare was looking at her a bit oddly; maybe not in full humor yet, but he looked like he was getting there, and fast. They each placed their linen napkins on their laps and as Cesare reached for his silverware, she did the same, grabbing the tiny fork. Holding her breath, she plunged it into the meat of the tiny crustacean, but the oily garlic it has been sautéd in had already broken the flesh from the shell. The slug flew out and smacked with a quiet 'thock' against the window next to her, mere inches from her head. 

Mortified, Ilaria looked around frantically, for whoever it was that was going to be the one to throw her out. Miracle of miracles, no one had seen or heard anything. Staff and patrons continued about their afternoon pleasantries. Shooting a look at Cesare, she snorted before she caught herself, biting her lip.

"Whoops. Greasy little suckers," she apologized, reaching for another. Spearing the meat a bit more carefully, she began to raise it to her lips, then paused. It looked absolutely disgusting. But she was in it now, and quickly stuffed it in her mouth. 

Somehow, it tasted even worse than it looked. If sour rubber had a taste, this was it. Ilaria turned quickly to the side and lifted her napkin, spitting out the offensive object behind the curtain of her hair. Grabbing for her wineglass a bit more frantically this time, she spared a moment to consider how drunk she was apt to get on an empty stomach at this rate. But, God. It was so...

"...terrible," she laughed, popping one onto Cesare's plate.

"I dare you to swallow that."

Cesare had to suppress a burst of laughter when the snail hit the window, nearly spitting white wine all over the table as it happened. When she tossed one onto his plate, he knew wasn't going to decline. He'd never had it before and judging by her reaction, it wasn't the most pleasing taste. Still, he couldn't let such a playful challenge go unanswered.

He tenderly plucked the snail from the plate and eyed it on his fork before looking up at Ilaria's expectant eyes. He blinked and took a breath in before popping the morsel in his mouth. The odd salty and chewy texture didn't sync well on his tongue and his initial reaction was to expel it from his mouth, but the amused look on Ilaria's face forced him to swallow. As he strained the muscles in his neck, he finally downed the bite and gasped for air as he reached for his wine.

"God... you're right." He said as he took a drink, trying to wash the taste out of his mouth as she smiled across the table. "Feel free to take a scallop if yours isn't enough..."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a couple of wise guys enter. They were always easy to spot after spending so much time in the life. After they'd surveyed the room, they spotted Cesare and exited the front door. After they walked out a larger man entered... probably their boss... a Capo of some sort? He looked back down at Ilaria wondering how she'd handle this encounter.

The Capo stepped unceremoniously up to the table, trying his best to put his tough New York façade to rest for a moment and show an image of respect to a Chicago Don. Ilaria didn't see him approach from behind and seemed a bit taken aback as his figure arrived by the table.

"Don Torretta, my name is Bruno Giglio, good to see you all rested up." The New York guys weren't normally known for their tact, the man looked at Ilaria next, shifting uncomfortably towards her, "And you are?" he leaned in, if this was supposed to be an apology, it was a backhanded one. Cesare reached across the table and took Ilaria's hand, immediately drawing both her and Bruno's eyes back to him as his thumb grazed over her hand,

"Miss Cattaneo, my date," Cesare answered for her, simultaneously telling Bruno to keep his distance.

Bruno stood straight again and pulled an envelope from his jacket, he cleared his throat before addressing Cesare again, "We hope this expresses our regret for your unfortunate experience here during your last trip"

Cesare plucked the envelope from his grasp with his free hand, "Thank you Bruno, I'm sure it will."

The look on Cesare's face said that the conversation was over and Bruno took the hint. He waddled his way out of the restaurant as Cesare returned his eyes to Ilaria, and then down her arm to her hand which he'd taken into his own. He watched them for a moment longer before returning back to her eyes.

"Sorry..." he said softly, "business."

She smiled briefly as she reached for her wineglass with her free hand, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She'd seen it before, time after time, year after year. Thugs with an attitude who felt they held privilege over the rest of the civilian universe because they carried a piece and respected little to nothing but themselves. Her instinct told her to leave....nothing good would ever come of this...but Torretta was different. She had a leg and a hand in her possession now; she'd know if this was all wrong. If he was all wrong. Wouldn't she? She looked down at her hand underneath Cesare's; he hadn't moved his and she was admittedly reluctant to remove hers.

Lifting her fork, she stabbed at a cheese pastry, glad she'd had the foresight to order it on the side.

"I'll be honest with you, I cannot stand seafood," she grinned, sliding the gougère off of her fork and into her mouth. 

Finally, Something worth tasting. She wondered if it would be the last decent thing to touch her lips in New York before she returned home.

Cesare and Ilaria finished their meal. He didn't release her hand until the check arrived at the table, and then only reluctantly. After, he walked her back out to the car and they went off towards Broadway. The lights half reminded him of Vegas as all of the theaters advertised their shows for the evening. As they started down the main drag of theaters, Cesare turned towards Ilaria in the back seat, "Alright, look at me and just say the word 'stop'. Whatever theater we're in front of when you say the word is where we'll go to see our show, and mercilessly heckle." he added with a grin.

Ilaria looked at him and hesitated a moment as the car passed down the road... "Stop."

Ricardo abruptly threw on the brakes causing both of them to slide forwards in their seats as the car lost all momentum in front of a rather extravagant looking theater that was apparently showing some sort of English musical number. Cesare cast a stare at Ricardo for his driving and popped open the door to retrieve Ilaria from the other side. She took his arm as they passed under the lights of the theater to the ticket box, and though it was chilled outside, his chest gave off a soft warmth at her touch.

"Give us a box to ourselves." Cesare more instructed than requested of the man in the booth, who heartily complied.

They entered the theater which looked remarkably more like an Italian opera house than a modern theater; covered in gold ornamentation and scarlet reds. Cesare presented their tickets to an usher who escorted them to their box, slightly to the left-center of the stage. It was a spacious room in the balcony with partitions placed so that the box gave a feeling of perfect privacy. Cesare allowed Ilaria to take her seat and joined her, as the dull growl of the crowd below floated up into their balcony. He watched her as she took in the sight of the resplendent theater hall itself, despite their surroundings he was still just looking at her. When her eyes returned to him, he gave a smile and looked towards the curtain as the lights went dim.

Ilaria continued to look at Cesare in the dimness, trying to ascertain his thoughts. When that failed, she turned towards the stage and leaned back further into the cushioned velvet seat as loud, blaring horns ripped across the audience below and floated upwards at them with an aggressive blast. She cringed, then glanced at Cesare again briefly, not surprised in the least that he'd taken it in stride. He'd likely seen a thousand of these, after all.

As the story unfolded, Ilaria found herself scrunched progressively lower in her seat with one hand over her mouth. The only thing worse than eating snails was...this play right here. The plot seemed to be one that involved a distant descendant of Rip van Winkle. Who was a chronic liar. And an alcoholic. And who apparently learned nothing from family history, drinking himself into a stupor in the Catskills. When he awakens some time later, he is surrounded by bootlegging dwarves that have been hired based on size, in an attempt to fool state troopers. There was some sort of convoluted love story in there as well, but Ilaria had simply stopped trying to understand anything at that point. Several times she was so close to barking laughter than she began to think she'd need to excuse herself and leave. As tears welled in her eyes, she turned her head slightly and tried to gauge Cesare's reaction once more. 

He was looking at her, not the stage. It was dark, but she could see well enough to know that it wasn't humor that she saw on his face. Feeling guilty, she sat straighter and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, I-" Out of the corner of her eye, a dwarf scuttled across the stage and she fell into an obnoxious fit of giggling, feeling bad but completely unable to help herself. 

It was ghastly. The whole thing. No more than 10 minutes in, Cesare had given up on the play entirely and instead contenting himself with watching Ilaria try to contain her laughter at the insanity that was unfolding below. Eventually her eyes met his as a parade of dwarves scurried across the stage and she could contain herself no longer, releasing a fit of giggles that proved contagious. Cesare found himself laughing uncontrollably at the hilarity of the whole production. The purity of her smile as she laughed was something very near to perfect.

As their shared laughter faded into sporadic hiccups of inhalation, Cesare's eyes softened as he regarded her in the dim light. Moving almost independently, his arm extended towards her figure, arching up towards her cheek which he grazed with his fingers. The thin strands of her hair running between them that he brushed behind her ear. She didn't move, save for her eyes which darted to and fro between his own. His own eyes fell over her lips before floating back up to her eyes again. The tips of his fingers tensed around the curve of her neck and urged her forward as he leaned towards her, but hesitating for only a moment a fingers-breadth apart from each other. A breathless moment passed them before he finally placed his lips on hers, running his hand through the golden web of her hair.

Ilaria blinked and inhaled when he touched her cheek, the smile melting from her features. Suddenly nothing was funny anymore. When Cesare leaned over and paused before kissing her, she impulsively closed the distance herself.

Raucous laughter erupted around and below them as another ridiculous antic played out onstage. Ilaria heard none of it, she was lost in her own storyline and was very much more interested in how this next act would play out. When they slowly pulled back from each other, a long silence stretched out between them. Neither seemed willing to say anything, but both had the same thought. Standing simultaneously, they exited the box and headed out, hands clasped as they left the theater, seeking Ricardo and the car.