At the stroke of 4 p.m., Ilaria turned the three locks on the door of the Clinic, closing for the day.  Normally, she might have stayed open a little longer, but not tonight.  She'd been looking forward to the evening all day, and thinking about it kept a smile on her face through every hour at work.  She shut off the lights downstairs and turned the sign from "Open" to "Closed."  Shedding her apron and cap, she hung them in her office and headed upstairs.  

Her first order of business was to shower and change. She did so quickly, and slipped into the second of the two dresses she'd purchased only a few days before.  This one was black, fitted at the bust and waist with a calf-length skirt. There was delicate, white embroidery that embellished the scooped collar and hemline.  With hot curlers rolled into her hair, she hurried to the kitchen.

Ilaria liked being prepared, and had gotten up early that morning to make the manacotti and the filling ahead of time.  She filled the shells carefully, poured over a robust marinara sauce, and topped it with generous handfuls of cheese.  Once it was in the oven, she assembled a nice salad and prepared a loaf of bread.  Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw it was nearly 5:30, and Joe would be arriving soon.

Back to her little bedroom, she pulled the curlers from her glossy black hair and pinned it here and there until it sat gracefully away from her face and fell behind her shoulders in big curls. For the final touch, she took a small, silver necklace with a cross pendant and placed it around her neck. The necklace had belonged to her mother. With one last glance in the mirror, she smiled with twinkling eyes.  Back to the kitchen.

By six o'clock, the entire top floor of the clinic smelled like the best Italian restaurant in town.  There was fresh bread on the table, with olive oil and herbs, a big bowl of salad, and two plates of manacotti on the little kitchen table.  This time, she had wine and whiskey on hand, rather than just milk. 

Finally, she slipped her feet into a pair of black pumps and went downstairs to her office.  Joe would come to the back entrance, so she waited there, pacing a bit with excitement.  This was, for all intents and purposes, Ilaria's first time having a gentleman guest at her own home- such as it was.  Had they not already spent some time together, she might feel nervous to the point of panic; but not anymore.  Every time she was with him, she somehow allowed herself to feel more at ease.  For a woman of her upbringing, "at ease" wasn't something she'd been used to.  Now, she was learning to love it.

The air out was light. The mix of the sun setting and the moon coming into its own gave a nice splash of orange on the horizon. Being where he was, people were passing him as he strolled down the pier. It was always active. Even after hours, you'd find people immersed in activities with like minded individuals. Adonis was on his way to doing just that, but to an activity he wasn't so familiar with. Not in the way it had come about.

As he strolled down the pier and took in the beauty of dusk bouncing off the Delaware, he couldn't help but also feel a little apprehensive. It was quite similar to the first time he'd come here. This time, less metal in his shoulder. And the iron heart he'd carried for so long, not as ironclad. He'd met a girl. A women. Who made him feel different. And as much as he was enjoying it all, it was a hell all the same.

Who was he? As he stared in the mirror the mornings since their first encounter, he'd spend more and more time picking at the image gawking back at him. He was changing. Had changed. And it scared the shit out of him. Yesterday was simple. Wake up. Drink. Cause a ruckus and make some headlines. Drink. Fall into bed with a random flirt on account of how loose she made her skirt. Drink some more. Rinse. Repeat.

Joe paused before the Clinic and took a deep breath. The same uneasiness he felt all day was still present. For a period after their first encounter, he'd even given up liquor entirely. He didn't know why, but coffee just seemed to be the flavor he craved instead. Coffee, sugar, and cream. And he chose to start today the same way. Who was he now? He couldn't say. The glass in his bathroom didn't speak back. But he knew he had to be here. Maybe he'd get some answers.

##TAP TAP TAP##

His knuckles rattled on the door. He fixed his black tie and took another deep breath. He'd checked himself in the reflection of the passing windows on the way down the pier enough to not need to check he was still looking sharp. He chose to dress conservatively and yet a little classy, a finely tailored black three-piece suit prepared specifically for the occasion by new business partner Cary Grant.

The attention was in the details. The way it fit his body, perfectly draping, leaving no creases or tension when he moved or when he didn't. The way the thin overlap on the single-breasted jacket had a line of black silk blended in with the wool to catch the imagination. He thought it to be simple, yet elegant. He loved to look good. And although not as confident as usual, he hoped his attire and general attractiveness would be enough to carry him. At least initially.

Joe took another deep breath then flashed a broad smile as the door opened.

Having been briefly distracted by some notes on a patient earlier that day, the rapping of knuckles against the door startled Ilaria just a bit. Not in a bad way; but in the way that makes one's heart jump into the throat for a few beats. She went quickly to the door, leaving her office door open behind her. Once more, she smoothed her hair over and brushed off the front of her dress before opening the door. 

The smile that curled her lightly painted lips involuntarily parted, leaving her staring at the gentleman in the doorway slightly slack-jawed. He looked...amazing. Her eyes, which had originally met his gaze, meandered down over the sleek, bespoke suit that perfectly framed his build. 

"Wow..."

It was the only word she managed to spit out of her tongue-twisted mouth. Certainly before now she'd found herself attracted to Joe, but something was different this time. Her mind whispered his last name, reminding her of the storied, handsome mortal, and Ilaria grinned at how fitting it seemed.

Realizing she was gawking, she laughed softly and opened the door wider, stepping aside. 

"I'm sorry - come in, please."

Her stomach fluttered with what seemed to be a herd of wild butterflies. 

Joe's eyes widened as the door opened. First, in anticipation. Then, finally laying his shiny blues on her, they were partnered with an equally extensive grin. He quickly reigned himself in, noticing how shocked she looked as well. As Ilaria chuckled, Joe also let out a light bit of laughter, practically at the same time. He felt his anxiety dissipate in an instant as a warm feeling replaced it. His smile softened as his eyes adjusted to what was before him, giving off a self-confident gleam.

She looked even better than she did at the pool hall, he thought, but made an effort not to linger and instead moved inside at her request. Joe took note of the necklace briefly as he passed by her. As soon as he was inside and a few paces from his second time host, Joe turned on his heels to face Ilaria, and maybe a little too excitedly. He couldn't help himself. He had his hands behind his back the whole time, and just as he did a light spin he brought them forward.

"It's not much." He said as he eyed the gift he brought along.

"I don't know if it's right or what not." Joe looked up at Ilaria as he finished speaking, cradling a bracelet in his hands. The white gold set ruby red gemstones adorned a piece that was a few inches in width.

He just couldn't wait. He was anxious to say sorry for having to leave her like that at the pool hall. He tried finding her a whiles later, but she must've left. It was probably for the better though he told himself as he was a little intoxicated by that point. But he'd still been kicking himself all night and morning. Buying this helped him feel better about it, and he was hoping it would have the same effect on the women he was presenting it to.

"Sorry for leaving you like that last night."

As he brought his hands forward, Ilaria's eyes moved down, curiously.  Upon seeing the sparkling bracelet, she audibly gasped.

"Oh...Joe!"

She was speechless- not only at the bracelet, but at the gesture and thoughtfulness itself. She hadn't even had a second thought after leaving the pool hall- she knew it was his place of business and that he had work to do.  Her voice was whispered as she looked at the piece.

"Oh my goodness...e bella!"

Her eyes absolutely twinkled as she looked up to him.  She held out a slender wrist so he could fasten it for her.  When it was on, she could barely take her eyes off it; but she managed to long enough to reach out and hug him.  It was automatic, not even thought about, it just felt like the right thing to do.  With her arms around his shoulders, her voice bubbled.

"Thank you- it's just gorgeous.  You didn't have to...I knew you had patrons to tend to, it was perfectly fine..."

She really didn't know what else to say.  No one- not even her father-had brought her such a gift.  It fit her wrist as if it were made for her, and the dark red stones sparkling with the overhead light.

He didn't expect such a reaction. He hoped it would be well received, but not this well. The bracelet did cost a pretty penny though. It wasn't like the imitations that were rife. As good as they were, he had the cash to spend on quality and liked to do just that. His initial sense of surprise to her reaction took a turn when she practically jumped into his arms. He let his hands naturally fall around her waist.

As she spoke her gratitude, Joe looked down at Ilaria's lips. With her arms around his shoulders, and her body against his, he lost track of what she said that followed. He came in with a weighted mind. Dinner. The gift. Being smitten by someone he hardly knew. They'd only met twice, but even after the first encounter, he knew he was attracted to her.

It was the way she carried herself with confidence and how at the same time she melted into her femininity in his presence. It had a grip on him. All of him. And secretly he hoped he'd never see her again after his first visit here, because of it. But seeing her last night. And now tonight. In a dress that did so well to show off her figure and which he could now feel up against him. He couldn't not.

Before she could say anything else, his lips impulsively pressed against hers.

Ilaria had never kissed a man.  She hadn't even kissed a boy when she was younger.  Still, when his lips met hers so smoothly and easily, it was as if she already knew what to do. Her eyes closed and her fingers played softly through the back of his hair as she stood on her tip-toes, being slightly shorter than him.  It felt as natural as taking a breath.  

After a lingering moment, she opened her eyes and glanced up to him, the girlish grin on her face seemed to have matured in those moments to something more womanly- more alluring.  

"You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

Ilaria took his hand and led him up the stairs toward the kitchen. The wild butterflies were doing a synchronized dance now. She was absolutely taken with him, no doubt about it.  But; was it all happening too fast?  Was that how it was supposed to go?  All she knew was that she didn't want to scare him away.  So, she set herself to just take every moment one at a time and enjoy it.  

Entering the kitchen, the smell of the manacotti was warm in the air.  Ilaria let go of his hand and walked to the counter.

"No milk this time, sorry.  I have wine and whiskey.  Pick your poison."

She paused, then giggled at her own unintended joke.

Swept up in the moment was an understatement. Joe had a lighter glint in his eyes after their lips parted and he caught her response. He took a satisfied breath in, relishing the moment. His smirk was also less pronounced. Relaxed satisfaction the best way to describe it. He enjoyed not wanting more. Not having to want more. He just enjoyed the shared moment for what it was. A release of tension.

Once in the kitchen, Joe eyed the whisky. It was a natural instinct. But he currently didn't feel like he needed a drop. Not unlike most days. Most mornings. He felt content, and not in the same way being intoxicated made him believe he was.

"How about you choose for me." He said with a nod, confident in not really caring.

Joe felt a little stifled in his full getup. He liked to look good, but felt the warmth from the kiss still lingering. He undid his jacket and slid out of it as he awaited Ilaria's choice. He was interested to see her response and took the time to take in the smell of what was presented on the table.

"Smells amazing."

While Joe made himself comfortable, Ilaria poured two glasses of the Pino Noir, a brand from Sicily she particularly enjoyed. She brought the two glasses to the table and sat one at each place. Before she sat down across from him, she stood at the table and served a helping of salad to his plate before serving her own, then picked up the loaf of warm bread and broke it into two halves. The finishing touch was a puddle of olive oil in a small bowl with a sprinkling of fresh herbs. With that done, Ilaria swept her dress under her a she sat, then placed her napkin in her lap.

"I hope you like it. It's a recipe of my Mother's. Well, most of my recipes are hers, come to think of it."

She picked up her fork, her eye catching the bracelet again. Looking at it for a few moments, the grin on her face seemed plastered there. She peeked up at Joe, serching for a glimpse of those captivating blue eyes. 

Before getting comfortable at the table, Joe stood and looked around the room. He took more of it in, as the last time he was here he wasn't so focused on the setting. He wasn't able to be. He looked at what may be ornamental, hoping to catch some kind of insight into Ilaria through what she kept in the central part of her working residence in Philadelphia.

Joe had fond memories of his mother. She was the homely type. Enjoyed being at home while her husband was out working. To him, she represented the purity of life. He couldn't fault her. She didn't ever call for it. All she showered him with was love and affection. He hadn't actually though of her for a few months until now.

Being in this room, in the kitchen, reminded him of her. And the food presented, also a nod to her. It was a pleasant experience that he had let go for too long. He thought of her often when he was in prison. Her energy kept him from adding more time to his sentence. Since arriving in Philly, all he thought of was his father. His recognition of her memory returning put a smile on his face.

Joe placed the jacket on the back of the seat before joining Ilaria. As he pulled his chair in and took his place he caught her looking right at him. He flashed a coquettish grin, their earlier shared moment making its way back, at least with the energy flowing through him. He toyed with his fork, his smile hardly able to be contained.

She was stunning. The way the light caught the curls and framed her beautiful facial features. Why didn't he feel this way about the other women he'd met before this? He was around enough of them. Queen of Hearts was full of flirts. He'd had his fair share and then some. He didn't mind, though. Nothing she'd done or said yet had made him feel anything less than affection. Even when she showed herself to be awkward when they first met. It was that side of her he was beginning to realize drew him in the most.

Joe let the silence continue. He really didn't want to say anything. Didn't want to really eat anything. Not now. Just look at her, as she was, and keep this moment as long as he could. It took him back to another place. Another time. Before he wasn't Joe Adonis. Before jail. Before all the shit. When he was simply Giuseppe Doto.

"It's a good recipe." He said, finally, taking part of what she said and just rewording it. He wasn't too fussed with the food. And that was something, as he loved pasta. Americanized or not. It all tasted like home.

"I wish I'd had more time to learn then from her. My Mama died when I was twelve years old. I remember her face, and her voice, and that she was always cooking and baking. Father was never home, and I think cooking was her way of filling the loneliness."

Absently, she reached up and touched the cross around her neck and smiled softly. 

​​​​​​"Her name was Mila."

She took up her fork again and took a bite of salad. 

"I learned to cook from my grandmother, whom I'd visit some summers on breaks from the boarding school. She used to say that I looked like a very small version of my mother."

Joe snapped out of his haze as soon as she started talking of her past, as her words reminded him of a similar childhood experience.

"Your mom sounds much like mine."

He dug a small tasting of pasta onto his fork.

"As mine was, I guess you could say." He said before stuffing it into his mouth and chewing.

His sense of wonderment had turned. Death was a thing you kind of had to get use to in the life. But when you saw so much of it, it left a bitter taste. And if it connected you to even darker times, maybe something more. After swallowing, he continued.

"She was the sweetest women. Would never hurt a fly."

Joe stabbed at the pasta. 

"But sometimes in this world, that ain't enough, don't you think?"

He looked up and at Ilaria, a sense of coldness filling him. His eyes showed a chilling pain beneath his well furrowed brow.

"My father went first. Then my mother. Broken heart the docs said. Hers. His was a knife to the gut."

He shook his head. And just as he did there was a sound of glass smashing somewhere in the clinic. Joe's current state spun the wheels of his mind into a thought process you wouldn't expect out of a simple businessman.

Joe stood quickly, yet quietly. With a sense of determination taking over, he slowly began to move towards the doorway to the kitchen. As he did he pointed his free hand back at Ilaria in a way as to say 'don't move.' With the fork in his other hand, Adonis readied it, flicking it over so the pointy end was facing downwards.

Adonis edged towards the side of the entrance to the kitchen with his shoulder now against the wall. He had his full attention on the gap before him. A shadow slowly loomed, which he could see from the growing darkness of a light down the hallway that must've been against the back of the purpetrator.

Before any one part of the individual could be seen from Joe's angle, a low toned voice called out.

"Hey, it smells like there might be someone here. I'll come with you."

The shadow stopped a moment, then a second pair of footsteps joined. The first was feint. The other, clapped louder and louder as they moved towards the opening where Joe was waiting. His tongue was out of his mouth and off to the side a little, his eyes filling more and more with heat reflecting his equally hellish thoughts.

He'd already discerned they weren't here for the pasta. And if they were, he was fighting them for it. The first body protruded through and stepped into the kitchen. Joe could've went to task there and then. But there was at least one more. So he didn't. He'd all but forgotten Ilaria was in the room with him. All he was focused on was an extension of the reason his father was murdered in cold blood. Gangs wanting things that weren't theirs. 

As the first guy realised his luck before him, he stopped. Maybe he wasn't just leaving having only scored some clinical goods to be later sold at a marketplace. The seedier kind. Out of the back of a boot in a parking lot under a broken lamp post. He was beginning to look at Ilaria with a lustful glare.

"Hello darlin'."

That was all that was needed to take Joe's mind off of waiting. He could hear the intent in the man's greeting. He lunged forward and dug the eating utensil into the side of his neck. His momentum took himself and the guy that occupied the body the throat belonged to across the kitchen, crashing into the side of the counter.

The second guy burst in after them, he initially noticed Ilaria and paused, looking at her. The fright in his eyes enough to show he wasn't so deep in this other world as Joe was. Maybe a common thug, or a gangster who'd just turned to step more steadily down this path. But right now, his partner in crime was spitting up blood, and not so steady on his feet, fell to the tiles, taking Adonis with him.

The moment the sound of shattering glass interrupted their conversation, Ilaria was on her feet. As Joe crept toward the kitchen door, Ilaria backed into the corner by the wall and the counter top. For the most part, she didn't move, but reached up to a cabinet above her head. 

A spray of blood flew from the first intruders neck. It seemed Joe had him handled. In the next moment, his unfortunate partner burst through the door, fumbling with a pistol. He froze with panic at the sight of Joe wrestling his accomplice. That's when the distinct sound of a 22 revolver rang out from the corner of the kitchen, followed by a second. The second man howled in pain and collapsed where he stood - one bullet in his knee and a second in the hand holding the gun. His pistol clattered to the floor and Ilaria scrambled over to pick it up, then aimed both her gun and his at his head. Without taking eyes off the whimpering pile of trash under her gun, she called out. 

"You got him, Joe?" 

Her voice was intense, slightly breathy, but unexpectedly calm. 

​​​​​​

By this point, Joe had wrestled around on the floor with the dying body, like he were an alligator enthusiast in need of some shiny new leather boots. As the two tussled, Adonis got a clench around his back. He cupped his hand over the punk's mouth to help along the process. He knew it wouldn't be long now. And although concerned there was another intruder, there wasn't much else he could do. Then he heard it. Shots fired.

He finally looked up, and just as the body jerked its last efforts at prolonging its miserable existence. He could clearly see Ilaria steadily holding her own. What. The. Fuck.

Joe slowly unleashed his clasp and let the body roll off of him with a helping nudge. He kicked it away as an added fuck you, just to make sure he could stand freely. His hands were covered in blood, and his once white and clean pressed shirt had fresh gore stains on it.

After slowly getting to his feet, he leaned back against the counter, all the while eyeing Ilaria with a curious look. He wasn't too fussed about the mess he looked. He was instead very interested in who had invited him to dinner.

"Do I got him?" He said as he tapped at his chest, something he usually did when he wore his jacket. It had his cigarette tin inside it. But that was still hanging over the back of his chair. He let his hands touch the cool surface behind him, relaxing his weight against the kitchen bench and smearing more blood onto it.

"Do you even need me here?" Joe said with a wry smile, glancing at the two guns Ilaria was maintaining like she'd done this before and possibly more than once.

"Hey! I'm bleeding over here! This crazy broad shot me!" 

The voice came from the second intruder, now writhing on the floor bleeding profusely and swearing loudly enough to wake the dead.

Ignoring him, Ilaria looked at Joe with a sheepish shrug. 

​​​​​​"My father...only time I could ever get him to spend with me was at the shooting range."

She could shoot, sure, but that was about it. Adrenaline and a cool head carried her this far, but all that was wearing off, and Ilaria was beginning to realize she just shot someone, and that there was a dead man on the floor. She cleared her throat nervously. 

"Wh-what do we do now?" 

"Well..." Joe said, still looking at Ilaria.

He was a little too use to this kind of thing. So much blood on his hands. So many souls knocked into the other side of the veil, like the hammer on his colt was punching their ticket, or nailing them to the crossroads. He was also ignoring the injured and bleeding out trespasser. As he noticed Ilaria coming out of her initial natural reaction, he pushed off the counter and slowly walked towards her.

"Now, we do what we do best. Clean this up and pretend it never happened."

As he got close enough to, Joe reached out and took the guns from Ilaria. He gave her a reassuring nod and a smile as he clasped his hands over hers, taking the time to gently remove her fingers from the triggers and unwrap her grip. He kept his gaze firmly on her. He knew these kinds of moments, especially if treading them inexperienced, could be a little uneasy. He did all he could to comfort her.

After making sure she felt his comforting presence, Joe quickly turned and pointed the gun in his dominant right hand at the second of the two, who was now reaching his own hands towards him with a look of desperation.

"Plea.."

Joe didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger three times, blinking as each bullet unloaded from the handgun and embedded itself into the upper torso of the now second dead body. He took a deep breath in as he let the notch on his belt be his instead of hers. She invited him, it was the least he could do.

Turning, Joe looked back to see how Ilaria was taking it.

She hadn't jumped when her own gun fired, but jumped right out of her skin when Joe blasted the last intruder. Her thoughts were bouncing around like an angry bee in a box. They were intruders, they could have harmed them. There was no negotiation with people like that, right?  Ilaria had seen people die, many times, but she never been there when the cause of death was inflicted. 

Joe, on the other hand, was calm and very matter-of-fact. Of course he was. This was the life. The life she'd signed up for. Maybe this was her initiation, only sooner than she expected. 

She had been staring at the body, but looked up when Joe turned back to her. Yes, this was the life she'd willingly signed up for. He father would disapprove, and it was nothing like she was expected to be. But in that moment, having felt his hands so gently guide hers from the weapons and squeeze them assuringly, Ilaria felt something like confidence. She straightened up and smoothed out her dress, now knowing exactly what to do.

"We need to get them downstairs to the storage room. We'll be back to our supper in under an hour."

​​​​​​

It didn't strike him this time as it did the first, like it had a boxing glove attached to it. Now, her response was more like the dinner that would be awaiting them, something easily digested. He nodded as he moved towards the table and placed the guns down. No more words were needed. Not now. Just work, real work, and it didn't require the flapping of gums. Just the movement of the bodies. And after rolling back his sleeves, Joe went to task helping Ilaria do just that.

Hydroflouric acid is an interesting chemical. Considered a weaker acid, it can do a surprising amount of damage given the right circumstances. That was a likeness that was not lost on Ilaria as two barrels of the stuff let off steady smoky clouds that floated up into the ventilation port. Joe and Ilaria stood for a few moments, watching wordlessly. Finally, they made their way back upstairs to the kitchen. The majority of the blood was gone, and she could scrub the stains later. Oddly, she thought, she was hungry. 

The two sat at the table to resume the meal. Certainly the mood was different. Not bad, but heavy. At least it was to Ilaria. She couldn't tell what Joe was feeling. Maybe this was all very familiar to him, and getting back to dinner wasn't a second thought. 

Ilaria picked up her fork to take a bite, but then put it back down on the table again and put her hands on her lap. She was quiet for a few moments, then looked into Joe's eyes. 

"Please don't go tonight."

Heavy. It could be a comforter if you knew how to wrap it around you. How to tuck the ends in, and let go of oneself. Joe had been here before. Sometimes he felt he'd never left. The bottle helped. Sinking into it, and swimming back out of a morning. And a moment of mourning. It all helped. His fork once more stabbed at the bit of pasta as the silence was palpable.

A new fork. A new sense of appreciation for the food before him on his plate, and also tossing about in his mouth as he chewed. His eyes almost rolled back into his head as he enjoyed it, and this time without the weight of his parents no longer being here. It was as if disposing of those two bodies had taken the memory of his mother and father with him. All he was focused on was this moment, and the dish before him. It was kind of heavenly.

Until she looked at him. His chewing stopped. His jaw, locked. Frozen, with a curious look on his face.

"Please don't go tonight."

He swallowed, regardless of how well the food was broken up, then took a deep breath in as he looked her over. How could he leave? An appreciative glance followed. One that said yes, but also thank you for asking.

Joe picked up the glass of wine and took a sip, letting the soft red fill his mouth and ease over his palate. He licked his lips after he gulped it down.

"Is that what you really want?" He said, placing the glass back down onto the table.