<-I-L-A-<<< I picked the most fabricated lingerie set to wear underneath the white shirt and skinny jeans I had chose.

I stepped into the shower, turning the knob and the streams of cold water splashed on to my skin. I yelped and jumped to the far corner of the shower stall in order to avoid the wrath of the freezing water, occasionally putting my hands back in to test out the temperature.

Once the water became bearable, I began to wash, scrubbing my face first. Looking at my hands afterward, it was stained black from my mascara. Realizing that I slept with my makeup on, I cringed at the thought of what my skin was going to do to me. My poor pores.

I was done showering and dressing and felt adventurous. I walked into the empty room, putting on my heels and grabbing my purse. Since I was going to be staying here for a while, I should get a look around.

I opened my door, quietly as possible, and crouched down, poking my head out. I looked left to see that the huge, long hall was empty.

As I turned my head right to check the side of the corridor, I heard someone asked me, "Not trying to escape again are you?"

There was Mr. Mafia Man, leaning against the wall, the right of the door.

"No, I just wanted to check this place out," I said, straightening my shirt as I got up from my crouching position.

He only raised his eyebrow and walked off down the hall. He motioned me to follow him. Looking at him from his back, I realized that he had changed from his casual comfy to sportswear.

"This is the third floor." He said as he made it to the stairs case. "Up is the fourth, which is the highest floor. There's nothing to see there, just rooms."

He walked down the stairs, and I was right behind.

"Second floor. There's a library, arcade, movie room, meeting room, and other stuff. This floor is where your office will be." He told me before continuing downwards.

I took the time to lean over the stairs and look up. A chandelier that stood as the main light fixture for the stairs. It hung from a see-through ceiling.

I tried not to look amazed, but this is the most impressive house I've ever been in. We reached the ground level. By this point, I realized that the house was pretty much empty.

"Are we the only ones in the house?"

"As of right now? Yes. The rest of the members are dealing with something in town. I'll introduce them to you at dinner." Mr. Mafia Man answered, never stopping his strides.

He led me down another hall. This house seems to never stop.

"This is the gym." He said, opening the doors to the matted room filled with exercise equipment.

Compared to all the rooms I've seen so far, this was the largest. Treadmills, weights, and punching bags lined up in rows. One wall was completely mirrored. He led me down to the far corner where a boxing ring stood. Mr. Mafia Man slipped in between the ropes and into the ring.

"Come on in." He said. He pulled the ropes apart to form a small opening and I slipped inside. "You might want to take off your heels."

Complexed, I kicked off my shoes and gently tossed them outside. I walked to one of the post and hung my bag.

"Before officially work for us, you need to go through some training." He said casually placing his hand on his hips.

"I already went through four years of it," I told him, referring to medical school.

"Look, members of the mafia consider each another like family." He explained, "We don't do the cliche, the 'no one gets left behind'. We really don't have to since everyone could fight for themselves. You'll need to learn some self-defense. Working in the mafia, even as a doctor, you're surrounded by enemies and danger. So, let's see how you throw a punch."

"Wait, are we fighting each other?" I asked. I fearfully took a step back. I eyed his arms. They were tatted and muscular. I would hate to be punched by him.

"No." He chuckled, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see what I'm going to be working with."

"Right now?" I asked, curling my hands into fists. "At you?"

"Whenever you are ready." He nodded. He placed his hands in the pockets of his sweats. Mr. Mafia Man's posture was too relaxed for knowing that he was going to get punched at.

I lifted my fists to my chin, copying the boxing stance I've seen in action movies. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Seeing how weird I looked, I straightened up.

"I rather not," I said, sheepishly.

"Come on," He said, "Don't be embarrassed. We have to start somewhere."

Reluctantly, I went back into my action movie stance. I swung my right hand. Before it could reach his face, his hand caught my clenched fingers. I let out a small gasp, shocked by his fast reflex.

Suddenly, the desire to land a good one on him ignited.

With my free hand, the left, I aimed at his face once again. Just like with my right, he caught it. I pulled away from him and let space fill in between us. He kept his word, showing no signs of attacking.

I looked at his stomach and pondered on my next move. I glanced at his eyes. They were intense as always. He was watching my every move. I noticed how his hands lowered. He had caught me staring at his abdomen, probably thinking that it was my next target.

I stepped forward. Mr. Mafia Man stayed where he was at, waiting. I launched with my left to his face and, at the same time, I aimed an uppercut punch to his solar plexus. He swiftly backed away out of reach. I had put so much force into the move that it sent me face-forward to the floor.

I stayed on the floor because I was exhausted and embarrassed. I rolled onto my back and covered my face with my hands.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Based on the sound of his voice, he was looming over me.

"Me? I'm great." I said, uncovering my face. "My pride? Not so much."

I sat up on the floor. To my surprise, Mr. Mafia Man sat down in front of me.

"What are we doing now?" I asked, curious.

"We're done with the physical part. We have time for some questions."

"Questions?" I asked, trying to get a better idea of what he was talking about, "Like an interview?"

"Yeah, to get to know you better." He said, sending me a full smile.

If I thought he looked good with his intimidating aura, he was better looking with his smile. I felt my heart race in my chest.

"So, Dr. Archer," he started, but I cut him off.

"Ila."

"Huh?"

"My name is Ila," I said.

"Ila." He repeated.

I felt my face heat up. I was hardcore blushing at the sound of my name coming out of his lips.

"Never mind. I take it back. Please continue calling me 'Dr. Archer'."

"Why, Ila Archer?"

"To keep things professional." I defended. For if he keeps calling me by my first name, the effect it has will drive me crazy.

"Then, I'll keep calling you 'Ila'." He said, sending me a devilish smirk that sent the butterflies in my stomach flying. "I'd hate to keep things professional between us."

>>>-M-A-T-T-E-O-> Those words just flew out of my mouth. My thoughts, exposed. Before she could process, I quickly said something else.

"I forbid you to call me 'Mr. Casciani', you have to call me 'Matteo' or else you won't get an answer."

"Matteo Casciani... Casciani ... Casciani." She repeated my name as if she was trying to recall something. As she did, I eyed her plump lips that formed my name.

I watched her come to realization. Ila gasped and covered her mouth.

"Il Bisbiglio." She said my mafia's name in her American accent.

<~> Please show much love :)