Love, Duty, and Other Difficult Things

by Lys ap Adin

It's time for Bianchi to come into her own, whether she likes it or not. Post-canon, Dino x Bianchi, smut, mafia hijinks, politics, drama, melodrama, angst.

6. Chapter 6

Notes appear in the first chapter.

---

Part Six

Bianchi held out for as long as she could before her nerves drove her to pick up her phone and text Dino. this sucks.

His reply came so quickly that she suspected that he might have been waiting for her to contact him. i know.

Bianchi considered that and rolled her eyes. do you really, mr. i lead from the front? It was a rare Cavallone operation that didn't have the Dino at the front of it, right in the thickest parts of the fight.

i have a good imagination? he tried.

nice try, cavallone, but no. Though it had made her smile, which counted for something.

hm. well, if it helps, you should've heard some of the names your brother called you.

Bianchi snorted. oh, i did. he practiced them on tsuna and then gave me the full performance. It was a pity she hadn't been able to see it in person, since Hayato had been in fine voice.

think he'll forgive you? Dino asked.

one of these days, maybe. He'd get over it, and at least she didn't have to worry about him on top of everything else. Pessimism, or maybe a healthy sense of prudence, made her add, if we live through this.

nervous?

It was Dino. He wouldn't take it the wrong way if she admitted to that. yeah. And maybe some other things, too. never really had to tell other people to go out and do my dirty work for me before. Not on this scale, anyway. Not after planning it in relatively cold blood. It was different to take a job and execute it herself, though perhaps only in her own mind.

that part does suck. never gets easier, either.

Bianchi made a face at her phone. thanks, cavallone, that makes me feel so much better. She checked the clock again, but the minute hand had barely crept forward. It was going to be ages before she could reasonably expect any of her people to check in.

sorry. anything i can do to help? want me to come over?

And he would, too. Bianchi was tempted to say yes, had even begun to type it, before she stopped herself and erased it. you have the time to talk for a while?

for you, i have all the time in the world.

Bianchi laughed at how relentlessly soppy that was, and at herself for being charmed by it. i just need an hour or two. talk to me?

sure. what about?

The first thing that occurred to her probably didn't seem connected to anything. She asked it anyway. do you ever miss japan? It still surprised her that she did, when she'd never quite managed to be at ease in Namimori.

sometimes. you?

sort of. thought i hated it at first, but i guess it grew on me. It had been so different from home, so full of people whose language wasn't hers, with so few friendly, familiar faces. It hadn't been at all difficult to pretend to be angry with Tsuna at first, which had been in keeping with her cover story, since anger was a good way of sublimating one's nerves. But then she'd made friends with the girls, Tsuna had found his spine, and it'd all become bearable, bit by bit.

yeah. must've been weird to be embedded like that. least i got to make trips back and forth.

and don't think i wasn't jealous of that. At least until she'd settled in and the world had started taking notice of Tsuna. Once that had happened, she'd gotten too busy to think about things like that.

should've said something. we could have arranged a vacation.

Bianchi snorted. while i was on a job? be serious. Timoteo would've loved hearing that the reason she'd skipped out on guarding his heir was a little homesickness. And what Reborn would've done didn't bear thinking about.

you never know. maybe we could have hooked up earlier.

That made her wince. job. wouldn't have been a good idea. Bad enough that they'd flirted and gotten so friendly with each other over the course of those years, especially after that glimpse of the future-that-wasn't. Considering how she'd lost her damn mind the minute they'd tumbled into bed together, it was best that they'd waited.

too bad. wasted a lot of time.

Bianchi sucked in a breath; she'd been trying not to think that. yeah, i know. god, this is depressing. new topic, please.

He took a moment to think about that. okay, so what are you going to do once we put the macrini down?

throw a party. Bianchi eyed the stack of invitations she was supposed to be working on with disfavor. to show off just how awesome the falco really are. invitations go out tomorrow. Presuming everything went smoothly this evening, please God.

The clock was still creeping along. Damn.

whoa, cool. am i invited?

Bianchi smiled. of course you are. i'm relying on you to give pasquale orsini lots of nasty looks for me.

what, hasn't he taken a clue yet?

Didn't she just wish he had. nope. Maybe if she underlined the clue with a brick to the head. Even the most feckless suitor couldn't mistake that.

glaring at orsini it is. hey, you have an ornamental pond in the garden or something? we could dunk him in it.

Bianchi let herself imagine that and laughed. might be a little much for a party. Flavio Orsini would probably object to it, too, and feel obligated to declare some kind of war on her to salve his Family's pride.

oh well, thought i'd offer.

for someone who isn't actually a hitman, you're really quick to resort to violent solutions.

trained by reborn? he tried.

good point. Reborn tended to assume that most problems could be solved with the application of enough bullets. Which raised the specter she'd been trying to avoid. Bianchi chewed on her lip. Fuck it. Might as well ask and get it off her chest. be honest with me: offing all of the macrini—good idea or bad one?

His reply made her grimace. oh christ. can't you just ask me whether that dress makes your butt look big?

Damn it. That's what she'd been afraid of. Bianchi pinched the bridge of her nose. bad idea, then.

His reply took him a while to compose. it's too early to say. maybe it is, maybe it isn't. you'll find out once it's all over. and even if it's a good decision, you'll still have nights when you lie awake and wonder whether there was something else you could have done that would have been better. sometimes being the boss sucks.

She sighed. was starting to pick up on that, yeah. Moments like this made her wonder why she hadn't just taken Hayato's advice and run while she had the chance.

for what it's worth, i think you're doing the best you can.

Well, at least she had that. He probably even meant it, too. thanks, dino.

you're welcome. and also, that dress doesn't make your butt look big. your ass is divine.

Bianchi laughed until she was breathless. you're ridiculous.

that's why you love me.

She snorted in order to keep herself from melting. Sentimental idiot. keep telling yourself that.

it's not? Must be my film-star good looks.

Well, good to know that he knew perfectly well how attractive he was, not that there could be any doubts about that. let me know when this fishing expedition of yours catches something, she replied, amused.

my manly prowess in bed?

That one just made her giggle. keep reaching, cavallone.

huh, i'm starting to run out of attributes. maybe you don't love me after all.

Bianchi rolled her eyes at the plaintive message. now you really are being ridiculous.

His retort caught her like a blow to the chest. you really don't like owning up to that, do you?

Bianchi found herself sucking in a breath at the accuracy of his observation. it's not easy to say, given the circumstances.

this from the woman i've heard given ringing speeches about the importance of love?

i do know how important it is. that's why i don't say it lightly. Too many people did. That was half the problem with the world right there.

i see.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Bianchi dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. When he did, she said, all in a rush, "I do love you, you idiot. It just doesn't do us a damn bit of good."

"That doesn't mean it isn't nice to hear." He sounded startled by the edge in her voice.

"Idiot," she sighed. It wasn't entirely addressed to him. "Anyway. There you go." It wasn't like she hadn't admitted it a dozen or so times over, even if she hadn't explicitly said it till now. At least she had that much.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "So how are you holding up?"

Bianchi leaned back in her chair, stretching out her legs under her desk. "I'm starting to wonder whether it's poor form to have a drink while I wait," she confessed.

"Only if you get drunk." She could hear the smile in his voice. "One glass of wine won't hurt. Might even help settle your nerves."

"Maybe I'll do that." Bianchi slouched lower in her chair and made a face. "I hate waiting." It wasn't so much that she didn't know what was going on—it was that she could imagine, all too clearly, what might be happening and all the ways things could be going wrong.

"So do I." Dino's voice was rich with sympathy. "How much longer before you expect to hear from people?"

Bianchi checked the clock again. The minute hand hadn't moved appreciably closer to the hour. Damn it. "Least another hour or two. I thought I'd do some work to pass the time, but it's not going so well."

"You need something else to think about. Take your mind off of things." Dino's tone turned thoughtful. "So, what are you wearing right now?"

What was she—"Cavallone, I am in my office."

"Sitting at the desk, I assume?" His voice dropped lower, turning silky. "With your hair up, looking all serious?"

"Dino Cavallone, we are not having phone sex." She injected as much firmness into her voice as she could manage, even when the timbre of his voice wanted to go straight to her hindbrain. "My door isn't even locked! Gervasio could walk in at any minute!"

"Mm, that could be a little kinky, but—"

"Dino!"

He cracked up at the scandalized note in her voice, snickering into the receiver. "No?"

"Absolutely not," she said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly."

He was still laughing. "What I would give to see your face. I didn't actually think anything could shock you."

Bianchi snorted. "You do realize that this was my father's desk, don't you?"

His end of the line went abruptly silent. "Oh, God," he said after a moment, voice feeble. "I think you've just eradicated my libido."

She grinned. "You deserved it."

"No, seriously. I'm never going to be able to get it up again." His tone was all tragedy. "You've destroyed the Cavallone, woman. I'll be the last of my line."

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?" she murmured. "There are pharmaceutical remedies for that condition, or so I'm given to understand."

"You wound me, madam. A Cavallone will suffer death before dishonor."

"So you'd let the family die out just because you're too proud to admit that you have an erectile dysfunction?" she asked, entertained, just as Gervasio let himself into her office.

He stopped short, face shifting through several different expressions rapidly. He mouthed, Should I come back later? as Dino said something about the importance of having priorities.

Bianchi waved a hand at him. "I need to go. Gervasio just came in."

All the laughter dropped out of Dino's voice. "That's early. Keep me posted?"

"I will. Later." Bianchi set her phone down and raised her eyebrows at Gervasio. "Well?"

He looked like he didn't know whether to be horrified or fascinated. "I bet you wouldn't tell me what on earth you were talking about even if I asked really nicely, would you?"

"It'd be a long story. And you really would have had to be there." Bianchi waved that aside. "Has something happened?"

Gervasio came away from the door and sprawled in his chair. "One of our people had a stroke of luck and ran across their targets early. Emanuele Gaspari had a migraine and went to bed early." He smiled, thin and sharp. "He won't be having any more migraines ever again."

Emanuele Gaspari, one of Ivo Macrini's most senior advisors and underbosses. That would be a blow to the Macrini even if nothing else happened the way it had been planned. "Couldn't have happened to a better person."

Gervasio's smile showed his teeth. "Thought so myself." He gestured at her phone. "Cavallone keeping you company while you wait?"

"Couldn't concentrate on these." Bianchi tapped the box of invitations. "Which is a bad sign when you consider the fact that all I have to do is sign them and stuff them into their envelopes."

"Want me to do it for you?"

Bianchi gave him a flat look. "Did you really just offer to forge my signature to my face?"

His grin was breezily unconcerned. "Yes?"

"You're shameless." On the other hand, there were a lot of invitations in that box. Bianchi shook her head. "Go find us a bottle of wine and we'll work on them together while we wait."

Gervasio's grin got wider. "Clever, clever Boss." He bounced to his feet. "Sit tight, I'll be back shortly."

Bianchi used his absence to update Dino. we got an early check-in; 1 down and 43 to go. Which seemed like an impossibly high number, even when she told herself that it encompassed the Macrini family itself, all the Family's underbosses and advisors, and the dozen or so up-and-coming young men who seemed to have the steel in their spines that would let them step into the power vacuum that this hit would create.

And God only knew how many bodyguards and sentries would go along with those named targets.

It was still better than an outright war. She had to hold onto that.

oh, okay, that's a relief.

yeah, tell me about it. Not that she was any less tense, or would be until the last of her people checked in. gervasio's gone for a bottle of wine and we're going to work on these blasted invitations together.

good plan, good right hand.

i was lucky, yeah. Davide had been the one with the good taste, or perhaps Giancarlo and her father had been. She'd just been the beneficiary of that. anyway, go get some sleep.

call me if you need me. i mean that.

Bianchi smiled. you know I will. She paused and then added, love you, before she hit send.

love you too.

"I know you do," Bianchi said under her breath as she set the phone aside and looked at the invitations.

Well, surely the wine would help with those, too.

---

The time didn't pass any faster with the wine or the work, though it was easier to bear with Gervasio sitting across from her, tossing off her signature with a showy flourish of his wrist and keeping up an easy stream of chatter while the minutes crawled by.

She really was lucky to have him, Bianchi decided as she traded her stack for his and began checking the names on the envelope against the list Licia had included. "So here's a question for you," she said, bending over the task. "What are we going to do with your brother once this is all over?"

"What do you mean, what are we going to do with him?" When she glanced at him, Gervasio's eyebrows were knit together. "He'll come back home and go back to being one of the Falco's best underbosses, of course."

"Mm." Bianchi checked an envelope's label against the list, checked it off, and set it aside. "Do you think he'll be happy doing that?"

He didn't answer the question. "Just what are you getting at, Boss?"

Bianchi supposed that she couldn't fault him for sounding so wary. "He's going to be a family man. Wouldn't he be happier in his own establishment?" As much as she'd thought about it, she couldn't really imagine him and Alessia being happy doing anything else.

She watched Gervasio's hands go still and the quick, convulsive way he swallowed. "Boss..."

"I know there are still Linardon people out there. They might be scattered, and there might not be many, but small Families have survived hard times before." Bianchi checked another envelope and added it to the growing stack. "And we're creating an opening in the ecosystem, as it were." She looked up and met Gervasio's eyes. "You told me he ought to be leading his own Family the first day we met."

"I did, didn't I?" Gervasio sat back in his seat and drank off the rest of his wine, eyes staring at something that wasn't in the room. "He might—I could see it. He's always been twitchy about not—not calling himself by his rightful name."

Yes, she'd thought as much. "We'll put it to him, then, once this is over." She checked off another envelope. "And if he'd rather go, then you'll be free to go with him, of course." Not that she wouldn't regret it, but she'd make do. Maybe it'd be the excuse she'd need to retire Stefano from active hits.

That shook Gervasio out of his daze. "Boss!" Indignation suffused his expression. "Did I or did I not kiss your ring?"

Bianchi paused in the act of shuffling an envelope into the box, surprised. "You did, but he's your brother."

Gervasio scowled at her. "But I agreed to be your right hand. God only knows what you'd get up to if you didn't have me around here to keep an eye on you."

Bianchi blinked, looking at him. "You'd really choose me over him?" Surely not. She'd seen them together, she knew how close they were—

"Not over. Instead of." Gervasio shrugged. "You suit me. And rebuilding the Linardon would be a lot of work." His smile was crooked. "And you never know. He might choose to stick around."

"There is that." She didn't really expect it, but then, Gervasio had just proven that people did the unexpected all the time. "Thanks."

He just grinned. "Told you. I was born to be the family black sheep." He sat up again, clearing his throat briskly, and went back to work on checking over his share of the invitations. "Remind me to have a camera handy when you drop this in his lap."

Bianchi chuckled. "I can do that."

They finished the rest of the invitations in silence, working in tandem, and sorted them back into the box they'd come from when they were done. Bianchi kicked off her shoes and poured the last of the wine when they were done. "Finally."

Gervasio raised his glass. "Cheers." She echoed him and drank as she checked the clock. Going on two in the morning. "Shouldn't be too much longer."

"Probably not." He loosened his tie and sprawled out in his chair. "What's on the agenda after we get the Macrini sorted?"

"Business as usual, I suppose." Bianchi twirled the stem of her wineglass in her fingers. "Haven't had the time to think too far ahead."

"Mm." Bianchi looked up at that; it was the sound of a man about to say something he didn't expect to go over very well. "With all due respect—" oh, it was going to be bad "—you'll probably want to think about finding a nice trophy husband before too long." He winced at her expression and held up a hand. "Don't look at me like that, Boss, you know I'm just doing my job."

Bianchi swallowed her anger as best as she could. "I know."

"And, I mean, 'before too long' isn't 'next week.'" He looked at her anxiously. "You can get away with a few months, probably, what with dealing with tonight's fallout and with getting the Falco in order. But you should at least be thinking about it."

"I think about it every time I talk to Dino." Bianchi looked away from Gervasio's sympathy. "Believe me, I know what I have to do."

"Sorry, Boss." He did sound like he meant it.

"Yeah, forget about it. I know you're doing your job." Bianchi looked into her wine. As if it had any answers, she thought. "You ever been in love?"

"Once or twice." He shrugged when she glanced at him. "But then I realized it would be selfish of me if I limited my charms to one lucky boy, and branched out."

The hour and the wine meant it took her a moment to puzzle out his meaning. "So you're saying that you're kind of a slut."

"I would never dream of kissing and telling, Ms. Scorpion ma'am." Gervasio's eyes twinkled over the rim of his glass. "But I suppose I get around."

Before she could formulate a response to that, his phone went off.

Bianchi set her glass aside and gripped the arm of her chair instead as Gervasio answered. "Conti." He listened for a moment and then gave Bianchi a thumb's up. "Good. Good. All right, get yourself home and sleep in. We'll debrief in the afternoon." He listened a moment longer and then closed his phone, grinning. "Ivo Macrini's down a brother and a set of nephews."

Bianchi breathed out. "Any problems?"

He shook his head, no. "In and out and no one the wiser. The Varia couldn't have done it any better."

Bianchi exhaled and found a smile. "I wouldn't say that around any of the Varia, if I were you. They might take exception." Touchy bastards. She reached for her wine again. "Well, that's a few less to worry about."

"Yep." Gervasio looked at the clock. "You know, you could go to bed—"

"Wouldn't be able to sleep if I did. Not until everyone checks in." Or, God forbid, didn't. Bianchi shook her head. "I'll wait all night if I have to."

Gervasio's smile was wry. "We're both going to be worthless tomorrow."

"Yeah, probably." Bianchi shrugged. "We'll survive."

"Even if we don't want to." Gervasio reached into a pocket. "So. Cards?"

They passed the time playing penny-ante poker, stopping in the middle of hands whenever Gervasio's phone went off to take the reports from the men and women who'd been sent to sow havoc among the Macrini. Bianchi drew up a chart around three, when the lack of sleep and the wine were making it difficult to keep track of things, to mark off the rising body count. By four, the Macrini's hierarchy of underbosses had nearly been eliminated and most of Ivo Macrini's extended family was dead.

Reborn called her himself around four-thirty, when Bianchi was deep in debt to Gervasio's poker skills, and told her that Sebastiano Aquili, Ivo Macrini's right hand, was dead, as was Macrini's heir Luca. "And brew yourself some coffee," he added. "You sound like you're half-asleep."

"Thanks, Reborn," Bianchi told him, biting down the yawn. "Have a good night."

Gervasio watched her mark names off silently after she'd set her phone down again. "Not many left now."

Bianchi looked at the handful of names that were still unaccounted for. "Nope." The chief names now were Ivo Macrini himself, which was the job Stefano and Alessia had claimed for themselves, and a handful of underbosses and potential underbosses. "Why don't you go see whether anyone's awake in the kitchen and steal us some coffee?" As always, Reborn had excellent ideas.

"Sure thing." Gervasio pushed himself out of his chair and stretched, grimacing. He started to roll his sleeves back down and then stopped, shaking his head. "Caffeine to see the night through, coming right up."

Bianchi studied the chart she'd cobbled together, counting up the dead. The Macrini might never recover from this, even if Uncle Stefano and Alessia didn't manage to kill Ivo Macrini. Hell, even if that happened, one of the other Families might go ahead and finish the job for her.

They'd have to be extra careful with their own security for a while, just in case one of the other Families decided imitation really was the sincerest form of flattery...

When the door opened, it came so close on the heels of that thought that Bianchi was on her feet with a handful of poison cooking before her tired brain registered that it was Uncle Stefano who'd just let himself in. "Easy there, kiddo." He limped in as she dumped the poison cooking into the trashcan. "Gotta be careful with that hair trigger."

Bianchi ran her hands through her hair and dropped herself into her chair again. "Nerves. Been a long night." She watched him ease himself into a chair. "Are you hurt?"

Stefano's smile was tired. "No. Just getting old." He shook his head. "Can't recommend it, really. Don't do it if you can help it."

"I'll keep that in mind." Bianchi held onto her patience with both hands. He'd tell her how it had gone in his own good time.

Stefano looked around. "Where's that rascal of a right hand?" He leaned over and peeked at the hand of cards that Gervasio had laid down and made a face. "Better fold."

"Getting coffee so we don't fall asleep waiting for the last few check-ins." A gentle nudge never hurt, of course.

Stefano's eyes brightened; he rubbed his hands together. "Ah, coffee. That sounds wonderful."

He was playing with her now, Bianchi decided. And he wouldn't do that if things had gone badly. "Well, maybe he'll bring enough back to go around."

Stefano's eyes glinted. "Hope so. Hold out your hand and close your eyes, baby girl. I brought you a present." Bianchi raised her eyebrows at him, but complied. He deposited something warm and heavy in her palm. "Okay, you can look."

It was a ring, a heavy, ornate affair in gold and set with a flat emerald that had the Macrini seal cut into it. Bianchi looked at it for a long time before closing her fist around it. "Just what I've always wanted," she said softly.

Stefano grinned at her, crooked. "Saw it while I was out and about tonight and thought you might like it."

Bianchi drew her list over and crossed the last pair of Macrini names out with a thick stroke. She passed the list over the desk to him when she'd done it. He looked at it for several seconds before smiling. "Well, well, well. Isn't this a fine thing?"

"What's a fine thing?" Gervasio asked, coming in with a pot of coffee and two mugs.

"This is." Stefano waited for him to empty his hands and passed the list up.

Gervasio looked at it, face gone still, before he took the pen he'd tucked behind his ear and marked a couple more names off the list. "Richiutti called while I was downstairs," he explained.

Bianchi poured a cup of coffee and passed it to Stefano. "Just waiting on Marogani and Frentani now." And the fucking Macrini were dead. All of them, even old man Francesco's bastard son. She poured more coffee for Gervasio and splashed some into her wineglass for herself, and toasted them. "Hope my father is seeing this, wherever he is."

They drank. "I'm sure he is," Stefano said. He glanced at Gervasio. "Your family, too."

Gervasio's smile was tired but triumphant. "Yeah. Speaking of my family, I thought my terrifying sister-in-law went with you."

"She went home. Said she'd come by later." Stefano shook his head. "Your brother is lucky. And terribly brave."

"Isn't he?" Gervasio snorted. "He looks puzzled every time I tell him so."

"Better him than me." Stefano took a drink of his coffee. "Marogani and Frentani, huh? Well, deal me in on the next hand."

Frentani finally called at six, when the birds outside the window were singing and dawn was well under way. Marogani followed her a few minutes later. Between them, they let Bianchi mark off the last few names on the list, and she dropped her pen, satisfied, when she'd done it. "There. That's that."

Gervasio drained the last of his coffee. "And high time, too."

"Amen to that." Stefano dropped his cards. "All right, kids. I'm for bed."

"God, yes." Bianchi pushed herself back from the desk and fished her shoes out from beneath it. "Time for a nap before we face the music."

"Cheer up, Ms. Scorpion ma'am." Gervasio grinned. "Maybe this'll scare off some of those boys you keep complaining about."

Bianchi thought about it wistfully. "I can hope, can't I?" Well, given her luck, it probably wouldn't. She covered a yawn with her hand and gave them a nod. "Sleep well, gentlemen."

She barely remembered to set her alarm for later that morning before crawling under the blankets. Despite the coffee, she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

---

Bianchi finished one game of solitaire and was well into another before it began to sound like Giovanni Barassi was winding down. "Pardon me," she murmured when he paused for breath. "I'm afraid I'm not exactly sure what it is you're asking me to say. It sounds like you're accusing the Falco of having something to do with the tragedy that's befallen the Macrini. The former Macrini, I should say. But surely that isn't right." Ah. The eight of spades could go on the nine of hearts, and that freed up the ace of clubs. Excellent.

Barassi sputtered. "Now see here, Missy—"

"Excuse me?" Bianchi slammed as much ice as she could into that. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard me. I don't care who—"

Right, so he clearly couldn't take a broad hint. Time to get explicit. "My name is not 'Missy'," Bianchi told him. "Nor is it 'sweetie', 'girly', or 'honey'. I will thank you to remember that, sir."

Barassi failed to take that hint and blustered on. "You can call yourself whatever you like, but it doesn't matter. We all know the Falco and the Macrini have been at war for years, and—"

Oh, for fuck's sake. This was starting to be boring.

She interrupted him again. "And so what? Think about it for a moment, why don't you? Are you really suggesting that I—and what is left of my poor Family—really had the wherewithal to eliminate the entire Macrini Family?" Bianchi paused, counted off three heartbeats, and added, "You don't really believe that, because if you did, you'd be asking yourself, 'Hey, Giovanni? Do I really feel like pissing Bianchi Falco off today?'"

Red six to black seven turned up the queen of diamonds; she made another draw from the deck before Barassi said, his tone quite different from before, "I suppose you make a good point, Ms. Falco. Still, I would watch my step, if I were you."

That was much, much better, so she sweetened her tone. "A girl like me, all alone with you experienced bosses? I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise." Ah, there was her ace of hearts. "Will we be seeing you at the little party we're having?"

"We'll be there." It sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

"Splendid! I'll look forward to seeing you there. Thanks so much for calling, it was so nice to have this little chat with you. Bye now." She let him mutter something in return and disconnected.

Gervasio applauded from the doorway. "How can you be so good at bluffing like that and be so shitty at poker?"

Bianchi shrugged and stretched her neck as he came away from the door. "Never liked poker, that's why. I prefer blackjack."

"Huh. Well, whatever." Gervasio handed her a folder. "Renzo has another batch of news reports, in case you feel like gloating some more. I think he's going to make a scrapbook or something."

"We all need hobbies." Bianchi set the folder aside and closed her laptop. "How's the cleanup going?"

"It's going." Gervasio dropped himself into his chair. He still had dark circles under his eyes from their vigil, even four days after the fact. She suspected that she was going to have to order him to take an early night and then enforce it, just to get him to rest. "Guiseppe would like me to let you know that if you'd be so good as to stay close to home for a few more days, he'll be able to sleep better at night and his ulcer won't act up."

"I suppose that's reasonable." Eminently reasonable, since he and a few of his men had already rooted out one attempt that a remnant of the Macrini had made to infiltrate the house. Bianchi had no problem letting Guiseppe get on with the business of keeping her safe, considering that, and really, she had more than enough work to keep her busy at home.

"He'll appreciate that."

There was something about the way Gervasio was not quite meeting her eyes that rang warning bells in the back of Bianchi's brain. "Not more than I appreciate the work he's doing." She rested her chin on her fist and looked at Gervasio. "Okay, whatever it is, spit it out."

Gervasio winced and took a breath. "Okay, so you know how you were eyeing the Macrini's work in the east?" He laced his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. "Well, um. The Modigliani went straight to the Russians and cut us off at the knees."

"Bastards!" Those sneaking, conniving bastards, the Falco had already started staking their claims! "Is there any way of—" but he was already shaking his head.

"They have some kind of family connection. Modigliani is capitalizing on it." Gervasio grimaced. "I think he's got the whole thing sewn up."

"That bastard," Bianchi said again, feelingly. She'd had plans for the Russians.

"Things are going well with the Macrini's smuggling operations." Gervasio offered it like a placation, which Bianchi supposed it was. "And I'm not sure, but it sure looks like the Vongola are planning on shutting down those drug operations they seized."

Sounded like the kind of thing Tsuna would try. Bianchi gave quiet thanks that the Falco had never invested much in drugs and would be able to steer clear of that particular clusterfuck in the making. "Well, it'll be interesting to see how that works out for him."

Gervasio snickered. "You're the very soul of diplomacy, Boss."

"It's a gift." And he hadn't come to the other little matter she'd asked him to look into. "How's the hunt for Linardon people going?"

Gervasio sighed. "Slowly so far. He and I were young, you know, and we weren't exactly in the line of succession. We hadn't really gotten a chance to build up a lot of ties to the Family. And it's been years. People started new lives, or found other Families, or died..."

"It doesn't take numbers to make a Family strong. It just takes a heart and a will." Gervasio was giving her a patient look, so she shrugged and left off the pontificating. "Anyway, keep looking."

"Sure, Boss." Gervasio hesitated before adding, "Are you going to bring him home soon?"

Bianchi was reluctant to dismiss the hopeful note in his voice, but prudence suggested that she ought to. "Let's give it a few more days to settle down and for Guiseppe to give us an all-clear. Then we'll bring him back and he can shock the hell out of everyone."

He concealed the moment of disappointment well, and managed a smile that went along with the wicked glint in his eyes. "You're kind of evil, you know that?"

"Like you're one to talk." Bianchi flapped a hand at him. "Okay, go on, get back to work."

He ducked his head and went, and Bianchi rearranged herself in her seat. The worst part of a hit was the part that came after it was all over, she thought, when a person was at loose ends and the fallout was still settling, and the world was still figuring out what kind of new shape it had taken. And it didn't matter whether the hit was for one person or a whole Family; the feeling was the same.

Her phone rang, interrupted her musing. It was Tadzio Valetti, wanting to know what the hell the Falco thought it was doing. Bianchi kept her sigh purely internal, opened up her laptop, and resumed her solitaire game.

---

everyone keeps coming up with new and inventive ways of asking me whether i've lost my mind, she told Dino later that evening. it's amazing how politely some of them are managing to word it. And how quickly the impolite ones changed their tones once she'd pointed out certain realities.

well, it isn't often that anyone wipes out another family. what're you telling them?

i'm playing dumb. who, little old me? our family couldn't possibly have done something like that! The best part was hearing the doubt creeping into people's voices. She'd just about lay money on Benito Magri's having actually bought it. besides, the macrini tried it first, with the linardon.

and people were sort of appalled then, too. wait, tried?

Whoops. Well, that cat was due to come out of the bag sooner or later. Probably sooner. it's not my fault ivo macrini wasn't as good at this as i am.

okay, so who'd he miss?

Bianchi grinned. the twins.

As she'd expected, it didn't take him long to put the pieces together. ...okay, now i know you're shitting me.

would i do that to you?

That earned her a keysmash of a reply. Bianchi leaned back against her pillows and laughed.

When Dino had finally regained his equilibrium, he wrote, no, seriously, your right hand is the last of the linardon?

Bianchi pursed her lips, but... no reason not to, now, and she might as well gloat to someone who'd appreciate the joke properly. not the last. said the macrini missed the twins, didn't i?

i was at the damn funeral, you know.

Really, he should have known better. If there wasn't a body, then one couldn't make assumptions. yes, you were. at the closed casket funeral. Hell, sometimes one couldn't make assumptions even with a body, unless there were dental records to go with it.

...okay, you win.

Bianchi grinned and savored that, before typing, but i haven't even told you the best part yet.

which is...? he prompted her.

his woman took advantage of the fact that he couldn't get away and married him. It still made her grin, even now. Bless Alessia Eramo's jealous, paranoid heart.

who is this lady, and where should i send the flowers i'm going to order for her?

dunno if you wanna do that, her husband might get the wrong idea. Alessia herself might get the wrong idea, too, come to think of it.

i could send him flowers, too?

Bianchi laughed and resisted the urge to tell him he had the wrong brother for that. just send them to me, i'll appreciate them for you.

done. that seriously is the best thing i've heard all day. been a long one.

She just bet it had been long, considering the swathe of territory he'd just snapped up. oh? wanna talk about it?

It took a little prompting, but he did; the Cizeta were being a thorn in his side and the Macrini's territory was in complete chaos and some of his own people were arguing with each other about the best way to deal with it all. such a glamorous life, huh?

That didn't even begin to cover all the daily headaches of being a boss. can't spend every day rampaging against our enemies and then pissing on the ashes. Bianchi yawned. okay, gotta crash.

yeah, me too. love you.

love you too. night. It was getting easier to type that, which Bianchi suspected wasn't a good sign.

She put it from her mind and fell asleep making plans for the remains of the Macrini.

---

"Are we still waiting for someone, Boss?" Cosimo asked when it was five minutes past the hour and Bianchi hadn't made any move to get the weekly meeting started.

Bianchi bit the inside of her cheek to keep her face straight. "We are. I expect he's running just a little late." Cosimo frowned, clearly disapproving of the tardiness. Bianchi just smiled at him blandly, because she could see past his frown to the door at the other end of the room which was just opening. "Ah, here he is now."

Stefano had told her that it had been a close call. Watching Davide limp in, leaning on a cane and still carrying an arm in a sling, even after several weeks and a couple sessions with a Sun attribute, hammered the point home.

The reaction from her people was everything she hoped it would be, which banished gloomy thoughts. Davide made his way to the seat Gervasio had kept open amid the noise of surprised oaths and the babble of questions. "Sorry for being late, Boss," he said after settling in his chair, every movement ginger.

"Don't mention it," she said, leaning over to clasp his good hand. "It's good to see you back with us."

"I'm glad to be back." He smiled and glanced around the table. "I see you chose to keep this to yourself."

"Of course I did. I wouldn't have dreamed of ruining an entrance like that." Style counted for a great deal, after all.

When she thought her people had had enough time to get the excitement out of their systems, Bianchi rapped her knuckles on the table and raised her voice. "All right, gentlemen, simmer down. As you can see, rumors of Mr. Conti's demise have been somewhat exaggerated. We thought it might be best to let him have a little time to recover from his injuries without having to worry that the Macrini, rot their souls, might try to finish what they started, and for him to enjoy his honeymoon. How is Alessia, by the way?"

Davide's smile lit his eyes. "Very well, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it." Bianchi smiled around the table, enjoying the collection of stunned expressions on her underbosses faces. "Now that we're all here, let's get started."

It was a good day, she decided, letting Gervasio open things up as he grinned at his brother.

---

Bianchi watched Davide ease himself into the chair across from her desk and the way pain made his mouth tight. "Your injuries still giving you a lot of trouble?"

"It's better than it was," he said, voice short, sighing as he finally got himself settled. He leaned his cane within easy reach and glanced at her. "You wanted to discuss something, Boss?"

It rolled off his tongue easily, she noticed. And he'd clearly managed to come to some kind of peace over her father's death while he'd been convalescing. Those were good signs. "I did," she said. "I have something to offer you, if you want it." She slid the small jeweler's box across the desk.

Gervasio leaned forward for it and handed it to his brother instead of making him reach for it. Davide looked at it and raised his eyebrows. "I already have all the jewelry I really want," he said, wiggling the fingers of his left hand at her.

He was definitely still in the honeymoon stage, that was for sure. "Open it up and tell me if you still think that," Bianchi told him.

Davide glanced at her and then his brother, shrugged his good shoulder, and flipped the box open. Then he went still, staring at it.

It had taken a ludicrous amount of money, a lot of hoping, an enormous helping of luck, and the services of the best cat burglar willing to brave the chaos of the former Macrini territories to lay hands on the contents of that little box. Every bit of it was worth it for the way Davide looked at the Linardon ring with wide-eyed wonder. "Boss," he said, voice barely more than a whisper.

"You haven't actually kissed my ring yet," Bianchi told him. "If you still want to, I'd be glad to have you, because you're a good man and have served my Family well. But if you would rather take that ring instead, I'll understand that, too."

Davide looked at his brother. Bianchi wasn't privy to the silent conversation that ensued, but Gervasio shook his head. His voice was gentle when he said, "I'm happy where I am."

Davide's mouth tightened with a brief flash of a different kind of pain before he nodded. He returned his eyes to Bianchi. "I don't even have any people to call a Family."

"You have Alessia," Bianchi told him. "And we've found some of the Linardon people who still remember their loyalties. If you declare yourself, I expect more will come forward. And Families—especially the ones led by good men and women—have a curious way of growing." She let him digest that before going on. "I was thinking... The Falco have some new territories that need administering. I can't offer you much, but I think one of them might make a nice place to resurrect the Linardon." Bianchi smiled at him. "You might consider it a belated wedding present."

"That's a hell of a wedding present," he said, voice faint.

Gervasio grinned and poked his brother's shoulder carefully. "That's because she's relieved that it wasn't her wedding."

"There might be an element of relief involved, yes," Bianchi conceded. And it was one of the new territories; it wasn't like she was conceding anything that had really belonged to the Falco. She folded her hands under her chin and looked at Davide. "So. Which ring do you prefer?"

"I..." Davide looked back down at the Linardon ring. "I need to talk to Alessia."

Naturally, though Bianchi thought she knew what Alessia would say. "Of course. It was silly of me not to ask her to join us, I suppose." She leaned back and dusted her hands. "If you could, let me know before the party. If we're going to restore your Family, we should do it quickly." Doing it at a party that would have most of the Families in attendance would be the efficient way of accomplishing that. It would give them something besides the Macrini and the Falco to discuss, to boot.

Davide gave the ring one last look before closing the box. "I... yes, of course." He looked up again. "Wait. The party?"

She smiled. "Yes, the party. The one where we'll all stand around talking about the late, unlamented Macrini. Or, perhaps, the new Linardon boss."

"It's next week," Gervasio added, helpfully.

Davide frowned, brow creasing. "Suppose you fill me in on the things I've missed," he said. "Seems the business meeting wasn't as thorough as I'd thought it was."

Well, probably not. But that left the question of where to begin describing the past few weeks. "Oh, God," Bianchi said, casting a glance at Gervasio.

Her right hand scratched his chin. "Well, let's start with what happened when we got the news," he said, and launched into it.

---

"Well?" Bianchi asked when Davide had shuffled out, fully briefed and every line of him weary and taut with pain. "Will he take it?"

"Yep." Gervasio caught her skeptical look. "He kept the box, you know. It didn't even occur to him to give it back to you. He wants it." He scratched his chin. "And Alessia will like the idea." His grin turned sly. "Gets him out of range of you."

Good to know that he thought the same way she did. "It's not my fault the Macrini tried to kill him." It really wasn't; the Macrini had been the fucking Macrini.

"Oh, Boss." Gervasio's smile was full of pity. "That's not what she's worried about."

Bianchi made a face at him. "Ridiculous." Surely the woman didn't think she was honestly a threat, even now.

"If you say so." Gervasio's smile said he thought otherwise.

And that was enough in that vein. "So you think he'll go." Bianchi bit her lip, looking at him. No, she really had to ask. It had been one thing when Davide had been absent; now that he was back, Gervasio might have changed his mind. "Are you sure you don't want to go with him?"

"And leave you now that things are just getting really interesting? Don't be ridiculous, Boss." Gervasio smiled. "This is my Family now."

Bianchi let out a breath she hadn't quite realized she was holding. "You don't need to repeat this to your brother, but... I'm glad."

Gervasio simply smiled at her. "Secret's safe with me, Ms. Scorpion ma'am."

---

Bianchi failed to be surprised when Alessia came to her herself, striding into her office and planting herself in front of Bianchi's desk. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

She didn't quite have her hands planted on her hips, but then, the gesture was implicit in the tone.

Alessia's stern expression prodded her into it. "Paperwork," Bianchi said, capping her pen and setting it aside. "What can I do for you this afternoon?"

It earned her a look of complete exasperation and was entirely worth it. "You know damn well what I'm here about." Alessia folded her arms and stared down at Bianchi. "What the hell did you give him that ring for?"

Bianchi pushed her chair back from the desk and looked up at Alessia. There wasn't any point in prevaricating, not least because Eramo looked capable of coming across the desk and trying to wring the truth out of her. "Because it belongs to him, and because neither you nor he will be completely happy if he stays with the Falco." She shrugged. "And also because I'd be more comfortable with him set up with his own Family and not giving mine any bright ideas."

Alessia pursed her lips and sat down. "You realize he's tying himself up in knots over this." That was still chilly, but less confrontational. Well, progress was progress.

"I'm not surprised that he is." After all, Gervasio was staying put, and Davide's spine seemed to be made of nothing but honor. Bianchi laced her fingers together and returned Alessia's gaze steadily. "He doesn't need to. He served my father well, and the Falco have been grateful for that, but he doesn't owe us anything beyond what he's already given us. And he won't owe us anything if he decides to take his ring." Alessia's expression eased a bit more. "Of course, I'd be delighted to count the Linardon as one of the Falco's allies."

"Of course you would." Her voice was heavy with irony. "I was wondering what was in it for you."

"It's a fairly small something, for the time being." Davide was capable, and that would change, given time. "And it will ease my conscience a bit to know that he would not be serving the Falco—serving me—against your wishes."

"Hmph." Alessia settled back in her seat. "I still don't like you, you know." Bianchi waited for the rest of it; it wasn't long in coming. "But I appreciate this."

Bianchi breathed a bit easier. "I'm glad to hear it." She really hadn't expected this much resistance from Eramo, though perhaps that had been a mistake. "I assume this means you're in favor of the plan?"

"I am." The corner of Alessia's mouth kicked up. "As you said. He's given enough to the Falco already."

"It's a pity to lose him, but we all have to make sacrifices from time to time." But then, Alessia would be familiar with that. "In any case, get his head untangled for him, and then we can talk about where you'd like to re-establish the Linardon. Sound good?"

Alessia nodded once and stood. "It sounds excellent," she said. "We'll be in touch."

Bianchi rose as well. "I'll look forward to it." She hesitated, but went ahead and offered Eramo her hand.

To her surprise, Eramo took it and shook it. "Later," she said, and saw herself out.

At least that was settled to everyone's satisfaction. Bianchi shook her head and returned to her paperwork.

---

"Kyouko. Haru." Bianchi knew that she was beaming at both of them as she clasped their hands. She didn't care, not when she was so pleased to see them, and let the other Families see and wonder if they liked. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"We wouldn't have missed it, Bianchi-nee." Haru's smile was wide, practically a grin compared to Kyouko's more demure expression, but Bianchi thought they were probably just as happy to see her. "We would have come straight from the plane if we'd had to."

"Fortunately, we didn't quite have to do that," Kyouko murmured. It was their first public foray among the mafia, or nearly the first, but she didn't give any sign of it as she looked around her, perfectly composed. "I was sorry we couldn't be here for your father's funeral."

"I wouldn't have expected you to be." Bianchi smiled at her. "This is a much better occasion, I promise you."

The faint crinkle of Kyouko's eyes as they exchanged a few more pleasantries said that she'd taken the point. Then Tsuna and Hayato escorted them along into the ballroom and the crowds of people there.

"They look like babies," Gervasio said out of the corner of his mouth, the horrified sound of his voice belying the smoothness of his expression.

"They aren't," Bianchi assured him, before turning to smile at old Cesare Maggiora and his long-suffering son, welcoming them to the party. When he had shuffled along, she added, "Reborn was more concerned with the boys than the girls, so I had to teach them everything I knew myself." And she had no doubt that Kyouko and Haru were already finding their feet and making connections as Tsuna and Hayato guided them through the crowd of other Families.

"Ah. That's not so bad, then." Gervasio still sounded uncertain, but not quite so appalled.

"I hope not." Then it was time to give Giovanni Barassi a smile and a greeting, bland in the face of the questions lurking in his eyes—had the Falco or hadn't they?—and the Valetti after him, welcoming them in and sending them along to circulate with the other bosses and graze on hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Every once in a while, Bianchi caught a glimpse of Licia flitting through with the staff, looking as though she was enjoying herself immensely.

Better Licia than her, Bianchi thought, and greeted the next of her guests with a smile.

Dino showed up with the last trickle of guests and hung back till he was the last of them. Bianchi raised her eyebrows at him when he finally strolled over to her. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"Sorry about that." He took her hand, offering her an apologetic smile. "I was late getting into the office this morning and that threw my whole day off schedule." He hadn't let go of her hand yet and was gazing at her, looking a little awestruck and not trying to hide it. "My God, you're gorgeous."

That made the hours of fittings and fussing over her dress and hair completely worth it, Bianchi decided. She smoothed a hand down the skirt. "Clean up nice, don't I?"

"Very nice," he agreed, and—yes, it was the plunging neckline and the décolletage that had his attention. Predictable, endearing man.

Gervasio cleared his throat pointedly, but when Bianchi looked, she could see that there wasn't anyone trailing in after Dino. "Well," she said, setting a hand on Dino's arm, "why don't you go ahead and escort me into the party?"

"Oh, yes, because that's subtle," Gervasio muttered, exchanging helpless looks with Romario. Dino ignored him and tucked Bianchi's hand into the crook of his elbow, sweeping her into the crowd.

"You realize that people are going to talk, right?" he asked her as they took a turn around the room.

"They're already talking. This just gives them something else to talk about." Speaking of which... Bianchi looked around, saw Davide, and changed the pressure of her hand on Dino's arm. "That way. There's someone you need to meet."

"Who? Wait, I already know—" he began as they changed directions. He stopped as they came into earshot and Davide turned to them.

"Dino, this is Davide Linardon and his wife, Alessia," Bianchi told him, careful not to snicker at the choked sound he made. "Davide, Alessia, Dino Cavallone."

Dino was quick to recover, she had to hand it to him. "This is an unexpected pleasure." He shook Davide's hand and bowed over Alessia's.

Davide was managing to be the picture of composure, despite the fit of nerves Gervasio insisted he'd had before arriving. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Alessia, meanwhile, glanced from Dino to Bianchi and flicked an eyebrow up, once. Bianchi lifted a shoulder in reply, watching her smile—well, Alessia could think what she liked, especially if it soothed her nerves about Davide.

Then Bianchi spotted Pasquale Orsini making a beeline in their direction and had to suppress a grimace as he called her name. "Miss Bianchi!"

"Pasquale," she said, politely but not warmly. Her tone slid right over his head, the clueless little twerp. He took her hand; oh, surely he wasn't going to—

He was. "You look ravishing tonight, " he said, raising her hand to his lips.

She had to let go of Dino's arm. "Thank you," she said as Orsini ignored her efforts to extricate her hand from his. "It's very kind of you to say."

"I was wonder whether I might impose on you for a few moments." His smile would have been charming if Bianchi hadn't wanted to shake her hand free of his. "My father wanted to speak with you."

Bianchi doubted Flavio Orsini wanted any such thing. She smiled anyway. "Of course." She glanced at the other three. "Please excuse me."

Huh. Dino really was glaring at Orsini for her, she noticed as she let Orsini guide her away.

As she'd expected, the "questions" turned out to be a pretext for Orsini to monopolize her for a few minutes while his father rattled on about the decorations. Bianchi gritted her teeth and bore with it, and was almost relieved when Antonio Balducci insinuated himself into the conversation and edged the Orsinis out of it. At least Balducci had grown out of the overeager puppy stage and was moderately interesting to talk to—as long as she ignored the fact that he was after the Falco for himself.

Maybe she just wouldn't get married at all, she thought. What she needed was an heir to follow after her, not a husband, and there was always artificial insemination for that.

The announcement that supper was being served prevented her from sharing that idea with Balducci. Bianchi saved it for Gervasio instead, offering it in exchange for the way he'd extricated her from Balducci's clutches. He appreciated it more than Balducci would have, anyway, judging by the bray of laughter he had to stifle. "God, Boss, I don't know if we're ready for that yet."

"Is this the face of a woman who cares?" she retorted, watching her guests move towards their tables.

"Well, perhaps we'll find a better compromise than that."

"I'm not going to hold my breath," she muttered, following the last of her guests in, only to discover that Licia had arranged the seating so that the Vongola and the Cavallone were seated with the Falco. "What was that you were saying about subtlety?" she asked him.

His smile was innocent. "I didn't have anything to do with this, Boss."

Bianchi eyed him, not believing a word of it. "I begin to suspect that there is a conspiracy going on behind my back."

"Paranoia doesn't become you, Boss," he told her as he let her slide into her seat next to Dino.

That wasn't an answer. Sneaky bastard. Bianchi decided not to complain when it let her smile across the table at Kyouko. "So how was the flight from Japan?"

The amiable way that Dino was smiling in the face of Pasquale Orsini's sullen expression reconciled her to the thought of a conspiracy as well, of course. So did the way Dino leaned over during the soup course to whisper, "I think he's trying to kill me with the power of his mind."

Bianchi didn't bother stifling her giggle. "Guess you're not in any real danger, then."

"You know, I'd hoped you were exaggerating about him," he said.

"Don't I wish," she sighed. "He's been sending gifts and letters and other tokens of his esteem to me for weeks now." The boy wasn't taking a hint, either, despite the way she kept declining the gifts and writing brief, impersonal responses to his letters.

Dino made a distinctly cranky sound at that. Haru, who hadn't even bothered to pretend that she wasn't listening in, cocked her head. "Is he really trying to court you right under Dino-san's nose? Isn't that really rude?"

Thank goodness she'd used Japanese and not Italian, Bianchi thought, clearing her throat. "It's a little more complicated than that. Ask Hayato to explain it to you later." She switched back to Italian as Hayato suffered a coughing fit, smiled at Tsuna, and said, "How are things going with your new holdings?"

"They're a little touchy," he said, which sounded about right to Bianchi, given his plans for them.

Bianchi was aware that Kyouko and Haru were both watching her as the conversation veered into the more comfortable discussion of business, studying her and Dino both. Well, that wasn't too surprising; she'd have to have them out for coffee and explain things more clearly than Hayato was likely to do.

But for the time being, she was going to relax and enjoy the meal and the company.

"You are going to claim the first dance, aren't you?" she hissed to Dino later as they rose from the tables at the close of the meal. She could see Orsini and Balducci already beginning to vie with each other for the best place to ambush her.

"First and last dance, I think." He smiled down at her, wry. "Don't believe I'll have a chance at too many in between."

He was right, of course. It was too bad, but couldn't be helped. Besides, she wasn't quite prepared to be that rude to the whole room. "First and last it is." They were almost to Orsini and Balducci, so she summoned up all her charm to foist them off to the second and third dances, respectively.

"What are you going to do?" Dino asked her as they stepped onto the dance floor.

She settled a hand on his shoulder and let him take the other. "Turkey baster and a sperm donor." Bianchi grinned at the look on his face as the music started up. "Dunno yet, actually. I'm refusing to think about it. You?"

"About the same." His mouth tilted. "I'm still holding out for Monaco."

"Mm. Me too." Bianchi sighed. "Gervasio says we might be able to scrape a few more months out of this."

"He's being generous."

"I know, but I'm not going to stop him if he wants to be." Bianchi shook herself. "And this is depressing. Let's not talk about it. Think Hayato's realized he's doomed yet?"

"He has, but he's repressing it very well." Dino glanced across the room, probably to where Hayato and Haru were either dancing or arguing or both, and smiled, faint. "It'll last about as long as it takes for her to get settled in. Or for Tsuna to work up the guts to ask Kyouko and for them to decide a double wedding would be fun."

"That's about what I was thinking, yeah." Bianchi snickered. "Poor Hayato." He never had learned to surrender gracefully.

Dino's mouth twisted just a bit. "Yeah, poor Hayato." The faint bitterness in his voice made her throat ache.

That wasn't going to do. "Anyway. You are going to stay the night, aren't you?" That ought to do the trick for both of them.

His smile evened out again and turned soft. "If you'd like."

"Don't be an ass. Of course I'd like."

At least he looked better after that, and she didn't have to worry about him quite as much when the song came to a close and Orsini turned up to claim her.

The problem with poor Pasquale, she decided as she listened to him nattering on, was that he was just too young, despite the handful of years he had on her. He hadn't ever gone anywhere or done anything and he'd certainly never ever had to get his own hands dirty. And he thought he could take a Family like the Falco and hold it? The very thought was ridiculous.

Balducci, on the other hand, was more of a problem. "You and Cavallone are very close, aren't you?" he asked as they swung into the first steps of a waltz.

"If you want to call it that." Bianchi eyed him carefully. "Why do you ask?"

"I like to think of myself as a practical man." He smiled at her, polite and all business. "And I'm not a jealous man. You might consider that as you select your husband."

"That's remarkably cold-blooded of you." And unexpectedly blatant. "Are you really suggesting that you wouldn't care if I were to cuckold you?"

"Not if I received something in compensation." Balducci's hand tightened around the fingers of her right hand, squeezing the band of the Falco ring. "Given the proper motivation, you'll find that I can be quite accommodating."

He dared. He dared! Bianchi breathed in through her noise and exhaled through her mouth, focusing on seeing through the red haze of her rage. "I see," she said through her teeth. "That's a very interesting offer. I'll be sure to give it all the consideration it deserves."

"I'm sure you will." Balducci sounded so sure of himself that it was all Bianchi could do not to slam a poison cupcake between his teeth.

After that it was a positive relief to have a dance with Tsuna, who merely looked at her with trouble in his eyes—he was still thinking about what she'd done to the Macrini, she supposed—and mostly talked about Kyouko, though Bianchi suspected he didn't realize he was doing it. After Tsuna it was a series of other bosses and the relatively simple matter of politics and business and navigating around the other dancers. That was relaxing, or at least familiar, and she only had to endure a handful of dances with Orsini interspersed with the business.

Bianchi was still relieved to see Dino appear out of crowd to claim the final dance (while Orsini stood back, looking like he was gnawing on his own liver in jealousy, and Balducci merely caught her eye and smiled pointedly). "You look tired," Dino said; his hand at her waist guided her half a step closer than propriety would have advised.

"I am tired." That was why she was leaning against him, of course. "You are going to sleep in tomorrow morning, aren't you?" She'd bribe Romario herself if that was what it took.

A smile touched his mouth. "I could be persuaded to."

"I'll be very persuasive," Bianchi promised him.

"And I'll be easily swayed." Dino pressed her a little closer and they finished the dance in silence.

She caught Gervasio's eye during the fuss of bidding a good evening to her guests; he gave her a faintly exasperated look, probably wondering why they hadn't arranged this before the party. He managed to spirit Dino away from the crowd anyway, possibly through the judicious application of some magic only right hands knew.

It was even nicer than she'd expected it to be when she finally made her way upstairs and found that Dino was sprawled on the couch in her sitting room, tie undone and jacket thrown over a chair, dangling a glass of wine in his fingers. "Hey," he said as she closed the door behind her.

"Hey," Bianchi returned, fingers finding the lock behind her and throwing it.

They looked at each other for a moment before Dino's lips curved up. He set the glass aside and rose to meet her.

It was a relief not to have to say anything more than that and to turn her face up to his for a kiss before taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom. She helped him with his cufflinks in silence; in return, he teased each of the pins out of her hair and undid the zipper of her dress. They let the pieces of their clothes fall where they stood until they were both bare, and slid into bed to lose themselves in the slide of skin against skin and the sureness of each other's mouths as they moved together.

And Dino simply held her afterwards when Bianchi finally lost the battle with herself and cried hot, silent tears against his shoulder, because there really wasn't anything more they could say to each other.

---

"So how are you finding Italy now that you're here?" Bianchi asked once she'd taken Kyouko and Haru all over the house and then settled with them in the parlor that she was coming to think of as her own.

Kyouko paused over her tea, clearly looking for the right answer. Haru waited for her to say, "It's different," before chiming in with, "Some of the weird stuff we went through while Reborn was training Tsuna-kun makes a lot more sense now."

Bianchi laughed over her coffee. "Some things really only do make sense once you see them in context, yeah." And some of the other things Reborn did never made sense. It was Reborn's particular genius that there was no telling which it would be until well after the fact.

"It's been interesting." Kyouko set her teacup back in its saucer and looked at Bianchi. "Why didn't you ever say that you were going to be a boss, too?"

So Hayato hadn't explained after all. Little weasel. Bianchi sighed. "Because I never expected to be boss." That was the simplest way to explain it. "When I left home, I thought I'd left the Falco for good, and thought my father would do the sensible thing and find himself a way to acquire another son. But he didn't." And then he'd died. "So here I am." Bianchi smiled for them. "It was almost as much of a surprise for me as it was for Tsuna."

"Hayato-kun says you were lucky not to end up married off to someone so he could be boss," Haru told her.

Oh, good girls; they'd remembered to get their information from multiple sources and compare notes to see the disparities. Bianchi smiled at them both, proud of them. "Luck didn't have anything to do with it. I put my foot down about it, and then... some things happened that made the point moot."

"Your war with the Macrini." Kyouko nibbled a cookie, looking like she was reordering things in her head and finding that they made more sense that way.

"More or less." Bianchi shrugged at them. "Not that you could really call that a war. It was more like the culmination of a very long feud." And it was all over now, except for sorting out the last few die-hard Macrini people, but Uncle Stefano and Guiseppe seemed to be enjoying that process. "You two still sure you want to do this? It might not be too late for you to go home again."

Their steel showed in the blaze of Kyouko's eyes and the way Haru's spine stiffened. "This is home now," Kyouko told her.

Bianchi smiled. "Just checking." Yes, they were going to do very well.

Haru relaxed. "Okay, then." She sniffed. "Besides, you know very well that the boys couldn't take care of themselves if their lives depended on it."

Bianchi raised her eyebrows. "They do have a staff to look after them now." It was worth pointing out, however much she was inclined to agree with them.

"Oh, that." Haru rolled her eyes. "Of course there's that. But that's not what I meant."

"No one argues with Gokudera-kun when she's not around," Kyouko explained. Her eyes turned darker. "And no one makes Tsuna rest when he needs it if I'm not there. The boys never seem to think of it themselves."

"The boys," Haru muttered, tone dour, "think Tsuna-kun is invincible."

A person would think they'd all know better, but that visit to future-that-wasn't had been years ago now, and the teenaged mind could be very resilient. Bianchi smiled at them. "It's good that you two are here."

They exchanged glances. When she spoke, Kyouko's tone was very gentle. "If you'll excuse my asking, who takes care of you, Bianchi-san?"

"I'm old enough to be taking care of myself," Bianchi said, amused. "Unless you listen to Uncle Stefano or Gervasio." But it was a right hand's job to fuss, and Uncle Stefano still called her his baby girl—what could one do?

Kyouko gave her a grave look. "Not Dino-san?"

And they were come to it at last. "Dino has his own people to look after."

There was another exchange of glances at that, this one heavy with significance. "Even though the two of you love each other?" Kyouko was pressing very gently, but she was pressing nonetheless. Ruthless girl. She was going to do well as the Vongola Tenth's wife.

"That doesn't really enter into it." Bianchi kept her hands and her voice steady. "There's... duty to consider, I suppose you might say. Obligations to meet." Duty and obligation—they would understand those as well as any daughter of the mafia might.

By the looks on their faces, they did, though they didn't like it much. Haru bit her lip. "But you always talked about how important love is."

Was that ever going to stop haunting her? "It is. It's vital." Bianchi took a fortifying sip of coffee and smiled for them. "We can't survive in this world without it."

Kyouko set her cookie down and dusted the sugar from her fingers. "I know I'm still learning how to understand things here. Can you tell me what it is that means you and Dino can't—" She paused, correcting herself. "—shouldn't be together?"

"We're both bosses." Bianchi listed the facts off for them with the same calm she used for discussing other pieces of business. It helped, a little. "We owe a responsibility to our Families to watch over them, protect them from other Families, and work to help them prosper. I would no sooner merge the Falco with the Cavallone than Dino would merge the Cavallone into the Falco." She snorted. "And you couldn't have a Family with two Bosses, either, and God knows I'm not going to turn my Family over to anyone who isn't Falco, not even Dino. And that doesn't even touch on the matter of heirs. Would our hypothetical kid inherit one Family or two? Would I need to have two kids, and hope they both turned out competent?" She spread her hands. "So you see: very complicated."

Haru and Kyouko listened closely and looked at each other again. "Maybe I'm missing something," Haru said, slow and careful, "but is there any rule that says you and Dino-san would have to merge your Families if you got married?"

"That's generally what happens in these cases," Bianchi said. "If not in this generation, then in the next, if one kid takes over both. Or even if there are siblings, one for each Family. God help your Families if the kids don't get along. Or one of them decides he wants one big Family instead of two smaller ones."

"So you need an heir that has no attachment to the Cavallone." Haru crossed her legs and settled her clasped hands on her knee. "What about one of your brother's children?"

"Hayato's children? He's part of the Vongola now, and, oh yes, still single and freaked out by the idea of being a father." And just why was Haru smiling like that? "Not to mention that he would have to be willing to let me adopt one of his kids for an heir, and face it, he doesn't have a lot of love for the Falco." And her kids would still be tied to the Falco, too, which would give them a claim—although a clear line of succession might be enough to allay some of that concern—why was she even thinking that?

Haru waved an airy hand at her. "Assume that he was willing and not single. Would his children be Falco enough?"

"...his mother wasn't married to our father, you realize." Though that could be ignored in extreme cases, if the Family were properly motivated—no, seriously, she wasn't going to let herself think about this. Bianchi gave herself a sharp mental shaking.

Haru just smiled at her. "The Ninth tells me that such things wouldn't matter as long as Hayato-kun's children were born to married parents."

Bianchi nearly choked on her coffee. When she'd stopped coughing, she stared at them, horrified. "Oh my God. Please tell me that you didn't talk to the Ninth about this."

Kyouko blinked at her, all innocence if one didn't happen to notice the faint sparkle of humor lurking in her eyes. "But you always told us that a wise woman consults her experts and her elders when she has a problem. And the Ninth is definitely an expert and an elder."

Damn it, they really had listened to all the things she'd told them. God help her. "All the same, you shouldn't have asked him about this," she gritted out. Her grasp on propriety was somewhat looser than Hayato's, but there were some things that simply were not done.

"Oh. Well. It's too late now." Haru shrugged, the shameless chit, and helped herself to another cookie. "So, would a niece or a nephew be good enough for you?"

Oh, the hell with it. "Hypothetically, yes." Bianchi rubbed her forehead. "But you can't honestly be telling me that Hayato would agree to any such thing when he still can't look you in the eye without turning red."

"Oh," Haru said, just the faintest hint of a smirk playing around her mouth, "he's willing."

Bianchi stared at her for a moment and reached for her pocket. "Haru, you know I love you, and it's not that I don't want to believe you," she said as she found her phone and dialed without looking at the numbers, "but you'll have to forgive me if I—Hayato, yes, hello."

"Neesan." Did he sound even more wary than usual? "Is something up?"

"Haru's been telling me some very strange ideas that she has and she's throwing your name around awfully lightly." The patient way Kyouko and Haru were smiling at her was making her spine prickle with uneasiness. "Thought I should maybe check in with you."

Hayato groaned. "Oh God, please don't make me have this conversation with you, Neesan. Please."

"Which conversation would that be?" Bianchi asked, trying to breath around the strange constriction in her throat.

The sound he made was pathetic. "This one," he moaned. "Look, whatever she's saying, it's true, okay? I give you my word as—"

Oh God. "Hayato, are you really going to let me adopt one of your kids as an heir?"

The sigh he heaved was so deep that it must have come up from his toes. "Yes." He stopped and added, hurriedly, "As long as you're not in a hurry for it."

"No," Bianchi said, stunned, staring at the way Kyouko and Haru were grinning at her. "No hurry."

"Thank God for that," he muttered, and then cleared his throat. "Of course you realize that this is a completely crazy idea, so if you don't—"

"Shut up, Hayato." He shut up. Bianchi sucked in an unsteady breath. She had to get her Family to accept it and Dino would have to agree and it really was a fragile house of cards, so easy to tumble down, but if it worked—"You already gave your word, remember?"

"Guess so." His voice was gruff. "Guess you like the idea."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Bianchi let out a breath. "I—thank you, Hayato. I mean. Thank you."

"Thank that lunatic Miura, it was her idea." And if he didn't notice the way his voice softened on Haru's name, Bianchi wasn't going to be the one to tell him. "Can I get back to work now, please?"

"Yeah, sure. Sorry to bother you."

"Any time," he said, and hung up.

Bianchi lowered her phone slowly, staring at Haru and not really seeing her. "Holy shit," she said. "Holy shit." She shook her head to clear it and looked at their smiles. "How did you even think of this?"

Kyouko shrugged, her smile faint. "Sometimes it helps to have an outside perspective."

"So, you like the idea?" Haru's smile was hopeful.

"I do." Bianchi swallowed. "I like it very much."

Now she just had to persuade other people in the Falco to like it as much as she did.

---

"Hey, Boss," Gervasio said absently as Bianchi let herself into his office. Moving into Giancarlo's larger office had only given his clutter the incentive to grow; she still had to move a stack of newspapers from a chair before she could sit down. "Have a nice visit with your friends?"

Nice didn't begin to cover it. "Gervasio." She waited for him to look up from what he was reading. His smile vanished as he met her eyes. "I'm going to describe something to you. I need your honest, unvarnished opinion about whether it will work."

He capped his pen and laid it aside, folded his hands on the desk in front of him, and said, "Lay it on me."

Bianchi took a breath to steady herself and described the plan Haru and Kyouko had cobbled together, keeping her tone as clinical and her descriptions as accurate as she could manage. He listened attentively, giving no sign of what he thought. When she reached the end, she pressed her hands together and asked, "So, what do you think?"

Gervasio didn't answer right away. He sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and tapping his fingers against his lips as he stared into the space above her head. "Relies on a lot of what-ifs, Boss."

"I know." She'd just laid them all out, after all.

He carried on, ignoring her interjection. "And you'll have a lot of people worried about Cavallone taking over. And those who'll think that your heir should be your own blood."

"Hayato is my blood, on the side that matters." And the other side didn't matter so much. "And Dino will keep his hands off my Family, especially if he knows what's good for him." A thought occurred to her: why didn't anyone ever wonder whether she could be trusted to keep her hands off Dino's Family?

"Mm." He tapped his fingers against his lips, still staring into space. "And it's extremely unconventional."

Bianchi managed a breath of a laugh. "I'm not much good at conventional, you know that."

Gervasio looked at her then. His eyes were steady. "Do you want this, Boss?"

Of all the ridiculous questions...! He knew damn well that she wanted it, so Bianchi met his eyes and countered that with, "Will it work?"

"Probably. We might have to drag people into it, kicking and screaming and dragging their heels all the way, but if everything goes off the way you describe it, it should work as well as any of our little arrangements do." Gervasio tilted his head, still looking at her. "So, do you want this?"

What a stupid question. Bianchi frowned at him, but he just waited. He was going to make her say it, wasn't he? "I do, but—"

He shook his head and held up a hand, forestalling her. "All right. If you want it and Cavallone does too, then we'll do it, and never mind how many heads I have to break to get it done." He grinned at the way she was boggling at him. "Boss. You give an order, I see it carried out. That's the way it works, remember?"

Bianchi sat back in her seat, stunned for the second time that afternoon. "Somehow, I expected you to argue more." Had expected him to say no, or to say that it was impossible, or to force her to try to persuade him to go along with it, not to acquiesce without even a token show of resistance.

Gervasio sniffed. "Please. You should know me better than that by now. You want real arguments, wait till we spring this on the rest of your underbosses. I said it would probably work. I didn't say it was going to be easy."

"Nothing worth doing is," Bianchi said, reeling. Jesus Christ, Gervasio thought it would work and was willing to fight it out for her. She looked at him, suddenly suspicious. "You're not humoring me, are you?"

"No, I'm not humoring you." He smiled, kind. "I'm your right hand. Not your mother."

"God, what a mental image." Bianchi ran a hand over her face, dizzy. "Oh my God."

"Oh, Lord." Gervasio sounded absolutely horrified. "Oh, God, please don't be crying, Boss. I'm not good with tears, really I'm not."

Funny, she wouldn't have expected that to be what it took to put a note of panic in his voice. "I'm not crying!" She was just—overwrought, and needed a moment.

"Oh, sweet Jesus." When she peered at him from between her fingers, she saw that the sudden clattering was him rummaging in a drawer and pouring her a finger of the whisky he kept there. "Here," he said, pressing it into her hand, eyes a little wild.

"Really, I'm not crying," she insisted. She drank it off anyway, letting it burn down her throat and settle in her stomach, a steadying glow.

"Just something in your eye. Right. Hate it when that happens." He peered down at her, clearly nervous that she was going to fall apart right there in front of him.

His obvious terror made Bianchi laugh, however shakily, and pull herself together. "Sorry. Better now."

"Thank God for that." Gervasio clapped his hands together. "Okay. Now go get yourself all dolled up and I'll call you a car and get your escort lined up." When she blinked at him, he gave her an impatient look. "You've got to go talk to Cavallone, right?"

"I—yes. Yes, I suppose so." Oh dear God, what if Dino didn't think this was a good plan?

Gervasio gave her a warm, encouraging smile. "Yes, of course you do. Now, up you get, and just remember, I'm here to break his legs for you if you need me to."

It was probably only thanks to the whisky that Bianchi's laughter at that was only a little bit brittle.

---

Gervasio hadn't just called for a car and her security, Bianchi decided when Dino's people handed her out of the car and Romario himself was on hand to greet her. "Ms. Falco," he said, eyes smiling. "A pleasure to see you, as always."

That was interesting. "Is it?" she asked him as he escorted her inside.

"Always." His mouth quirked under his mustache. "I've enjoyed our recent opportunities to work with the Falco. I do hope we'll be able to continue working together in the future."

Yes, she was detecting a distinct whiff of collusion between right hands in this. "I'm very glad to hear that."

Romario smiled at her. "I'm sure." He glanced at the men who were trailing after them. "May I have our people offer yours some refreshment?"

Bianchi gestured at them; Mario and Paolo only went reluctantly, but they did let themselves be led away by the handful of Cavallone men. "So I take it that you've been talking to Gervasio."

"We spoke. It's a tidy solution, I must say. If you'll come this way...?" Romario guided her deeper into the house, towards the area where she knew Dino kept his office. "He hasn't quite finished for the day." His tone indicated that he didn't entirely approve of that, not that Bianchi blamed him when it was closer to seven than six. "Would you like me to announce you, or would you prefer to surprise him?"

"I think a pleasant surprise to end the day on," Bianchi decided. "In exchange for the one he gave me." That was only fair.

"As you like." They walked on in silence, until Romario stopped and gestured at a particular door. "Here you are."

Bianchi took a breath and smiled at him, pretending that she wasn't suppressing her nerves. "Thank you, Romario."

He smiled again. "It's a pleasure," he murmured, bowing and stepping back.

The door opened nearly silently, not that the man working inside would have noticed if it hadn't. Dino was hard at work, forehead resting against the heel of his palm and fingers worrying his hair as he scowled at the stack of papers in front of him. Bianchi watched him for nearly a minute, cataloging the rolled-up sleeves and the tie hanging loose around his collar and the way the evening sunlight caught in his hair, before he made a satisfied sound and corrected something on the paper. He happened to glance up then and started when he saw her. "Gah!"

"And a good evening to you, too." Bianchi came away from the door then, smiling at his surprise.

He laughed and shook his head. "What are you—how long have you been standing there?" he asked, starting to stand.

Bianchi preempted him by coming around his desk and perching one hip on it. "Not very long." There was just a hint of sandy stubble on the jaw beneath her fingers when she tipped his chin up and kissed him.

"Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but what on earth are you doing here?" he asked when she finally pulled herself away from his mouth.

Bianchi caught the hand he settled on her waist and wrapped her fingers around it, letting the warmth of his hand steady her nerves as she looked down at him. "I need to talk to you about something important."

Dino's open expression froze and turned shuttered. A muscle in his jaw fluttered as he swallowed, but his tone was even when he said, "You've decided what to do about the Falco's future, haven't you?"

She gripped his hand more tightly before he could try to pull it away. "As a matter of fact, I have. But hear me out, first."

He set his jaw and gave her a slow nod. "Go ahead."

He was so clearly prepared to hear the worst that Bianchi wrapped her other hand around his, stroking the back of it. "I've talked to Hayato, and we've agreed that one of his children will follow after me. It's unusual, of course, but Gervasio is sure that we'll be able to make the Falco swallow it."

That clearly wasn't the solution Dino had been bracing himself to hear. "Adopt... that's unorthodox," he said, mulling it over, eyes beginning to clear. "But it's been done before." He smiled, rueful. "And it's definitely better than marrying because you have to."

"And I'm certainly not going to do that." Was it possible that he hadn't considered the other half of it yet? The melancholy twist of his smile suggested that he hadn't. Bianchi gripped his hand more tightly. "But I will marry for love, provided you promise me that you'll keep your grubby Cavallone fingers off the Falco and let me run my Family however I see fit."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Bianchi smiled as Dino stared up at her, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. When she thought he'd had enough time to be stupefied, she nudged his knee with her toe. "So, how about it? Monaco still sound good to you?"

Dino's smile bloomed across his face, slow and incredulous. "I don't think anything has ever sounded better." He swallowed again and looked up at her, anxious hope naked in his eyes. "You really mean it?"

"I do," Bianchi said, gripping his hand in hers. "I won't have anyone else." She found a crooked smile for him. "You've ruined me for other men, Cavallone, so I hope you're pleased with yourself."

"I—" he began, and stopped. He rested his other hand on top of hers. "I couldn't imagine being happier." He swallowed again. "I didn't think—"

She nodded when he stopped. "I know." She hadn't cried in front of Gervasio; she wasn't going to do it now, either, so she smiled at him. "So, Monaco?"

Dino's smile was as bright as the sun. "Monaco," he agreed, and paused, brow wrinkling just a bit. "As long as you promise to keep your hands off the Cavallone, anyway."

Bianchi laughed until she was breathless. "I think I can do that," she agreed, and let him pull her down to his lap for another kiss.

end

Comments, as always, are lovely!