For bonsaiiiiiii, who whispered: Scott Tracy, The Hot Mafia Boss.

He stood in front of the mirror, towel around his hips as he fixed his hair. It was quite possibly the longest part of his routine today, but today was sacred.

The first Saturday of every month the family gathered at their Father's, and it was expected that they be at their very best. And as eldest, Scott was the example his brothers looked up to and followed. He didn't mind that at all, and as he completed his ablutions, he contemplated his family.

The Tracy Family had been part of New York for generations. A traditional Italian-American family, he smiled to himself when he thought that they were the most untraditional Mafia family going. Yet they had survived the great purges that had seen most of the other Families disappearing.

Thank goodness his Great Great-Grandfather Thomas Tracy had had the sense to turn his businesses legit, well, most of them. His Great-Grandfather Ulysses Tracy had legitimised the remaining ones, so that when the two big purges came during his Grandfather Grant's time they were untouchable.

They were also now one of the richest families in the world.

The other thing that made the Tracy Family very different was how they treated their businesses. The family had started the same was as every other mafia family – racketeering and gambling.

By the time the current Don, Scott's father Jefferson Tracy, was the underboss, they had one of the largest casinos outside of Las Vegas, and the only one in New York City. And the businesses that they owned outright from what was originally extortion and strong-arm tactics now were part of the ever-expanding Tracy Industries.

Tracy Industries owned restaurants, bars, a thriving building empire and a chain of banks. Unlike other mafia's, everything was above board and legal. The companies still paid for protection, but unlike the illegal venture, this fee was invested for the company and provided a way for the business to ask for a loan for improvements or expansion.

And every business that came under the Tracy umbrella loved their bosses.

Scott ran the business. As in he ran the show, Jeff having retired. Jeff was still the Don, but the day-to-day running fell to Scott.

John ran the casino.

Gordon ran the chain of bars from the one in the casino.

Virgil was the odd one out. The artist and musician of the family, he had been slated to run the building businesses as he had a talent for engineering, but he had surprised them all by turning his back on all of it to become a priest. It was fitting though, as he was definitely the confidant of the family. Like all of his brothers, Virgil had the ability to think outside the box, enabling the family business to go from strength to strength.

And then there was Alan.

Alan, at 20, was the baby of the family, a place that he hated with a passion. Scott had been teaching him the business since he was 18, and Scott was about to buy up a Formula One company for his youngest brother as his 21st birthday gift. Alan had a gift for racing, one that his father had been loath to encourage, but Scott understood the need for his youngest to do something different to his brothers.

Scott grinned at himself. He was so looking forward to today's family gathering. It was a tradition that their Grandmother insisted on. Jefferson Tracy may be the Don, but everyone knew that Sally Tracy ruled the family completely.

Moving into his spacious bedroom he began to get ready. His Westmancott suit was black, shot through with a very fine blue line. The blue silk shirt was precisely two shades lighter than his eyes whereas his tie matched them perfectly. The white gold and sapphire cufflinks were a gift that caused more smiles to appear.

The last, and to him, most important piece of jewellery to put on was the signet ring on his right little finger. The family crest, a ring passed down to him when his father disappeared and one that his father had insisted he keep when he had returned. It symbolised the power in the family.

He placed the jacket in the holder for travelling – he wouldn't wear it while driving – and finished off making sure not a hair was out of place. Sliding his feet into his Berluti Oxfords, he flicked invisible lint off his shoulder, grabbed his keys and headed out.

On the windscreen was a note. The smile that had not left Scott's face since he had fitted his cufflinks broke out into a full grin. He read what his head of security had written, even though he knew what she would say.

'I know you won't use your driver today, so I have given him the day off. If you crash I will kill you. If anything else happens to you, I will also kill you.'

Placing his jacket carefully in the back, he started up his classic sky-blue Thunderbird convertible. Scott had plenty of cars to choose from, both faster and more modern, and he knew that when he picked up Virgil his brother would roll his eyes and ask why he didn't bring the Porsche, or the Bugatti.

Truth was, he loved his Thunderbird. They all had one, a gift from their father on their 16th birthdays – except for Alan. Jeff had been missing for Alan's birthday, so Scott had bought his.

Driving along the roads, smiling and waving to people who knew him, Scott felt all was right with the world. It wasn't a long drive to get to Virgil's, and his brother was waiting for him as usual. The only brother who didn't wear a suit, he was still in very fine trousers and a pale green shirt with his clerical collar on.

As predicted Virgil rolled his eyes as the car came to a stop beside him, and as he climbed in he grumbled about the choice of car. It was all in vain. He knew Scott wouldn't drive any other car today, just as he knew that when they arrived, John would have driven him and Gordon over in his own muted orange Thunderbird.

The two men half-hugged in the car, and Scott set off on the slightly longer route home. The journey was full of pleasant chat. Virgil enquiring how the business was doing, and Scott asked how the congregation was. Idle chatter was interspersed with comfortable silence until they arrived, just as John also approached.

The keys were handed over to the gateman, and the four brothers hugged and made their way up to the house.

Jeff watched his four eldest boys walking together up the drive. His disappearance of almost eight years had been a huge burden on his boys, especially his oldest who had had to take over all the businesses and the family, and his youngest. Only eleven when Jeff had gone, Scott had had to raise him, and had done an excellent job.

He'd been back a little more than a year. His wonderful boys had never given up on him and had rescued him…he wasn't going to dwell on it. All he wanted to do was enjoy his family time and keep them safe. They may not be a traditional mafia family, but they still had a traditional mafia enemy.

The Kyrano's were almost as big a family as the Tracy's were. Only they were not as worried where their money was made, having fingers in everything from arms dealing to trafficking. But the biggest reason why the Kyrano's hated the Tracy's was the defection of Kranyo and his daughter to the Tracy family. Now run by Kyrano's half-brother, that hatred was deep-set.

And he had sworn to wipe out Jeff Tracy and his boys. He'd almost succeeded with Jeff, and it had fuelled his hatred even further, focussing it now on his eldest, Scott. It was a nightmare that kept him awake at night, and he was thankful that Kyrano ran the security for all his boys.

The day went very well. Lunch was a feast as usual, and the family chatted and caught up as they ate, with his mother interrupting them from time to time to remind them that there was no business talk at the table. Gordon got his knuckles rapped for forgetting one time too many.

Jeff took a back seat and watched his boys interacting with each other. Alan, the only one who still lived at home, messed around with his immediate brother Gordon, both regressing to the bratty teenager Jeff remembered Gordon being just before he left. He smiled indulgently as the two tried to pull the wool over their brother's eyes, unsuccessfully as usual.

'Papa?' Jeff looked up. Scott was in front of him, offering him a tumbler of Scotch. He smiled and accepted the libation, gesturing for his son to sit beside him. The two watched John and Virgil playing chess.

'Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate how you held this family together while I was gone?'

'Yes, Papa.'

'I don't think that I will ever be able to say it enough.'

'I was happy to do it, Papa. Family is everything.'

'Yes. Yes, it is. Family was all that kept me going while I was away.'

Jeff squeezed his son's arm. It was the only outward display of affection he would allow himself. Scott smiled in return, knowing exactly what his father meant by the gesture. They finished their drinks in silence.

The boys left in the early evening. No one stayed too late, mindful that Virgil had Mass in the morning. Scott dropped him home before heading off to join John and Gordon in the bar, where more Scotch and then coffee was consumed, and plans made for Alan's upcoming party.

Eventually Scott made it home. It was very late, and he put coffee on to brew while he changed out of his suit. One expresso later and he was ready for bed. The shower was welcome, and he wrapped the towel around his waist and sat on the bed. Scott rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand.

A pair of hands suddenly appeared on his shoulders, and it took all his significant self-control not to flinch. A small chuckle in his ear had Scott smiling. The hands massaged his shoulders and neck, thumbs digging into his trap's, causing him to groan.

'One day I'm going to have to make an honest woman of you,' he said as the hands moved down over his chest, knees pressed against his hips and lips kissed the side of his throat.

'And risk all-out war?'

'You are so worth it.'

'Am I now?'

He clasped the arms to his chest and lent back to reach the lips.

'Mmm. Let me show you.'