It had been about five months since you'd started working for the Italian gang, Passione, and you thought you had fit in quite well. It was made much easier, being the cousin of the gang's leader, Bucciarati. Bucciarati was always so gentle and friendly, although, he did have a stern side, especially when business was involved, which you had experienced several times due to your role in the gang. You were an administrator at times, dealing with the gang's paperwork and connections throughout Italy, and a full time housekeeper, though you didn't like calling yourself that. You were basically a nanny. Living in a house with several men that didn't know how to wash clothes (Mista), or tidy up after themselves at dinner (Narancia), or keep the kitchen stocked with food meant that you had to do it instead. Not that you didn't enjoy it. The gang's antics were always amusing and at least you had the other members to help you here and there. You were very pleased when Trish came along and joined the gang. Being around men all the time meant that you didn't get any girl time… Even having your own 'me time' was losing its luxury, so you and Trish hit it off from the start.
When you started working with the gang, Bucciarati made you feel at ease, introducing you to the gang warmly. He was probably the reason why you were so close to them all now:
Trish was your best friend in the gang. I mean, the fact that you were both girls stuck in a house full of smelly men pretty much meant that you had to be friends, but you wouldn't change who it was for the world. Trish was very understanding. From the moment she joined Passione she was your rock; always there to offer an ear or a shoulder when you had a problem. It was the same for her with you.
Narancia was like a little brother, annoying but loveable. You spoiled him, much to Fugo's dismay.
"Look, he'll never learn if you keep telling him the answers! Let him work it out himself" Fugo said with an annoyed expression on his face.
"I didn't just tell him! I helped him work it out," you replied, innocently.
"Right, so doing the working out yourself to the get the answer for him is helping. Okay." In a flash, Fugo had picked up the nearest fork and brought it down on Narancia's hand, but it got wedged in the table instead as a squealing Narancia bolted from the living room. You grinned nervously at Fugo.
"Oh, do you hear that? Sounds like Bucciarati needs me… Bye!" You pace out of the study towards Bucciarati's office. Phew, I'll never get used to his outbursts.
This was a daily occurrence between you, Narancia and Fugo. You hated it when people got mad at Narancia, he might be an idiot but he means well and his silly pranks were hilarious (until you were on the receiving end), how couldn't you love the boy?
Fugo, on the other hand, was intelligent, calm and collected (aside from the outbursts with Narancia) and, although he wore those silly suits with holes in them, that were such a pain to wash because they were prone to getting caught on everything, you two got on rather well. In fact, you often went to him when something confusing cropped up in your work, which he gladly helped you with.
Abbacchio is quiet. You thought he'd open up to you more as time went on, but alas, you just couldn't get him to talk and you didn't want to push your luck. However, it occurred to you that this was just how he was and he did gradually warm up to you, which was evident when he'd invite you to have tea with him in the lounge. You'd mostly sit with him in silence, enjoying the quiet, but occasionally you would have small conversations about current affairs. He even stopped scowling at you now.
You and Giorno also got on well. He was the one who'd help out around the house the most, which you highly appreciated. He was quite mature for his young age and very calculating, almost too calculating; you could almost never hide anything from Giorno, so you noted to be wary around him, not to say that you couldn't let your guard down around him, he was never malicious towards you or anyone else in the gang.
Then there was Mista. Not only was he loyal, loveable and sometimes idiotic, he was your crush. Yes, you liked the boy who wears the silly hat and has tetraphobia… not really selling it are you, (y/n)? Nevertheless, you and Mista were close friends, always joking around with each other and, even though he was a bit smelly, you fell for the boy. Everything about him shone in your eyes; his unwavering resolve, his loyalty, his jokes and his seriousness, his good looks and lean body… You even came to love his not-so-great traits, like his temper and his crudeness. Whenever you entered a room, Mista was the one you looked for. When he left to go on a mission, you prayed for his safe return, as well as all the others. When he returned, you'd scold him for being so reckless but take extra care in treating his wounds. You really liked Mista.
"I don't understand why you won't just tell him, (y/n)!" Trish said.
You sigh in return, "because he doesn't like me back, Hell, he probably views me like a little sister!"
"Well, we'll just have to change his opinion on that then, won't we?
"How?"
Trish looked at your body sprawled across her bed and hummed to herself, "for starters, maybe we can change up your wardrobe… I think being around the gang for so long has made you too comfortable," she eyed your tracksuit bottoms and baggy jumper.
"What? You want me to prance around in a tube top and a mini skirt? I'll look like an idiot!" You retaliated, "c'mon, Trish, it's cold and I'm not going to any meetings with the Boss until next week! Cut me some slack."
Trish rolled her eyes, "all I'm saying is that you have a great body and you should show it off. It might get his attention."
You smiled at Trish, which soon turned into a devilish smirk, as you got off the bed and approached her. "Let's not forget what you have to offer, Trish." You both began to laugh as you groped the air in front of her breasts.
"Stop it, (y/n)!" Trish laughed and smacked you playfully. Between the days you spent working and managing the household, you loved being around the gang members and Trish always knew the right things to say when you were in a mood. The conversations were always so easy-going with her. Just then there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Trish called, both of you brushing yourselves off as you recovered from your fit of laughter.
Mista opened the door, "Boss wants to see you, (y/n)."
You smiled, "okay, I'll be right there. Later, Trish." You stepped into the hallway with Mista and started towards Bucciarati's office.
"What were you two laughing about? I could hear you from the other end of the hall!"
"Oh, uh, nothing much," you smiled nervously, a light blush dusting your cheeks, "what does the Boss want to see me about?" You asked, changing the subject.
"Something about Passione hosting a party," Mista replied, putting his hands in his pockets.
"A party? Hmm, okay. How are you today anyway, Mista?" You looked up at him. He was almost a head taller than you. You just about reached his neck, the perfect height to cover him in-
Before you could finish that thought, he replied, "I'm okay. Still a bit sore from the last mission. Do you think you could rewrap the bandages on my shoulder? It's bleeding agai-"
"Mista! I told you not to move your arm around too much! The wound must've reopened," you scolded, "I'll do it later," you added.
He smiled sheepishly, "thanks, (y/n)," he ruffled your hair, "you're the best!" He jogged downstairs as you reached Bucciarati's office. Thinking about touching Mista's broad shoulders as he sat, topless in front of you, whilst you treated his wounds, again, was playing on your mind as you knocked on the door. Bucciarati's voice snapped you out of your pervy thoughts as he ushered you inside.
You learnt that in order to maintain the peace between Passione and other gang's in Italy, you were going to host a party. It would also offer an opportunity to make new connections and bring in more business.
"So, I'll need you to take care of the invites and send them off before Friday, (y/n)" Bucciarati informed you, handing over a list of gang leaders and their respective addresses.
"No problem, Boss" you smiled up at him.
"Your role at the party will be to hand out drinks and to make sure everyone is comfortable. Basically, just play hostess. I'll get Narancia to help you. Trish will greet people at the door and Mista, Giorno, Abbacchio and I will mingle with the crowd" he explained.
You nodded and bid farewell, getting started on those invitations.
The following week involved preparing for the party, such as buying food and drink, dry cleaning the guys' suits and stressing about what to wear. You were currently suffocating under a mountain of clothes that Trish had thrown onto your bed.
"What are you worried about? You have plenty of clothes to wear… How about this one?" Trish asked, holding up a red maxi dress.
You groaned, "no, I need something shorter because I'm going to be walking around all night."
"Hmm… Haha! How about this one?" Trish winked at you, holding up a navy blue dress. It was way too short and hardly covered your front either.
You looked at her incredulously, "no way!"
Trish giggled, "I was only joking! Besides, I already found the perfect dress." You looked at her expectantly as she pulled out another dress from inside your cupboard. Perking up a little after seeing the dress, you tried it on.
It was black, bringing out your eyes and contrasting against your beautiful skin. It accentuated your curves and dipped into your cleavage.
"Wow" Trish said, beaming at you.
"Yeah, it's pretty good," you agreed.
"(y/n)! You look amazing! If Mista doesn't make a move on you tomorrow night, I will instead," she exclaimed.
You laughed, "thanks, Trish. I really do like it."
Maybe, just maybe, Mista will like it too.