There wasn't a lot of time to Kurt to transition from happy-domestic Kurt to serious-business Kurt, but somehow he managed it, tying his robe extra tight around his waist as he faced the home invaders with a scowl, mentally counting up the number of families being represented in their numbers (three) as he stepped forward to ensure he was between the men and Blaine, whose wide eyes and the iron grip he had on the sheets hiding his body gave away his panic.

“Allow me and my boyfriend to get dressed and we will meet upstairs, in my office, to discuss matters.”

The guy in the lead, a man Kurt knew as one of the boss's right hand man nodded his way, closing the door behind him to give Kurt and Blaine their privacy, though Kurt knew quite well that they would be waiting outside the door to escort him up.

Blaine didn't know that though, hissing over towards Kurt, “What are we going to do?!”

Kurt put a finger up to his lips and Blaine snapped his mouth shut as he got the message, eyes communicating to Kurt that he was, at the very least, not okay with what was happening.

“You go have a quick shower while I dress and pick an outfit out for you.  Don't be long.”

Blaine hesitated, taking in a shaky breath before complying, sheets wrapped around his body awkwardly as he ambled into the ensuite bathroom, leaving Kurt to dress, do his hair, and mentally plan out what he was going to do.

He certainly wasn't going to lay down and accept death.  That was certain.  His life didn't matter, but Blaine was there, and Kurt knew the men outside of that door weren't just going to let Blaine go.  Whatever Kurt did he needed to ensure Blaine was taken care of, that he was safe, and that no one would dare touch him.  That was the goal.

He picked suits for himself and Blaine that were dark, simple, and well tailored.  It was important in dealings with the mob that an image was maintained, one of certainly and non-negotiation.  When Blaine finished in the shower, Kurt was the one to do his hair, styling it down so his curls weren't lose and shaving the beard off his face.  If Kurt didn't know that Blaine was from mixed Filipino and Irish ancestry, Kurt would have sworn he could pass as Italian - even looking like a brother to some of the made men Kurt had worked with in the past.

Some of those men were dead now.  Made men didn't have a long life expectancy.  If the bullets didn't get you, the lifestyle eventually would.  The disregard for personal health had morphed many otherwise healthy young men into fat, bloated, drunks, riddled with diseases of the heart, liver, and pancreas, along with regular bouts of sexually transmitted infections.  

“You look good… dashing even.”  Kurt admitted to Blaine when the man tugged on his cuffs, all dressed up as if Kurt was taking him out on a date instead of to the unscheduled meeting he didn't want Blaine to have to be a part of.

“You always look good…”  Blaine admitted, albeit weakly.  Kurt knew he was trying to be tough, but the simple fact was that Blaine hadn't had years of experience dealing with the mob like Kurt had, and the trembling he was trying to manage snuck out every now and then such that Kurt had to bind his arms around Blaine in a solid hug, holding him closely until Blaine melted against him as Kurt whispered.

“I won't let anything happen to you.”

When he pulled back, Blaine was more solid, but still looked at Kurt with those worried, questioning eyes.  It was then that Kurt pulled his revolver out from between the mattress and boxspring of the bed and pushed it into Blaine's hands, who prompted pushed it back into Kurt's.

“I don't know how.”  He whispered.

“They don't know that.”

“Besides…”  Blaine continued to whisper, pulling his hands away when Kurt tried to put the gun back into them. “... I can't pull the trigger… I can't.”

Kurt sighed and tucked the gun into the back of his belt, under his jacket.  It was useless to spend time arguing with Blaine on the matter when Blaine was probably right.  Even though Kurt had never directly shot anyone, he still knew how to use a gun, and he knew he would if he had to upstairs.

They were escorted by a circle of men up to Kurt's office in silence.  Kurt spent the walk recalling details about the families being represented by the men there, and also paying attention to where each of the men had guns holstered.  He wanted to make sure he had as much information as he could going in.

The bosses were waiting for him, sitting in the couches in his office and casually smoking cigars as they drank alcohol from his office bar.  His office was huge, and the whole back wall behind his desk was panelled in windows that overlooked the city.  He loved that view, almost as much as he loved looking at Blaine.

“I see you gentlemen have made yourself comfortable.”  Kurt noted, striding to his desk and taking a seat in the leather upholstered chair where he flipped his laptop open and let it load up.  Blaine followed after him, standing to his side and doing his best to hide his nerves.

“I want to know why my finances have been transferred to some mutt at Wall Street.”  One of the bosses, Anthony, snapped towards Kurt.

“Ah, right to the point then.”  Kurt mused, leaning back in his chair and looking directly to the man in question.  “I assure you, Simon is quite trustworthy and will ensure your money is well taken care of.”

“That's not the point.”  Anthony snapped, standing up with such ferocity that the glass he held spilled over the edge with his drink.  “You don't get to decide who takes care of my cash.  I do!  I chose you.  You said it was good with you!”

“It was, when I was in business.  Regrettably, I've decided to retire.”

This was the point when the nostrils on all the bosses flared up, and Kurt tensed up just a little, just in case he needed to react quickly.  He knew that announcement was not what they wanted to hear, and knew he had to choose his words very carefully from there.

“You don't get to retire any more than I do!”  Another boss, Silvio, growled to him.  

“I'm not a made man though Silvio.  I'm not Italian and can't be.”  Kurt asserted with a gentle tone.

“So what?  You're a friend of the families.  We don't judge you for it, not even your…”  Paulie, the third boss, looked towards Blaine as he said it, “... sodomistic ways.  Jus' like I don't begrudge the Jew that I get to do my tailoring or the Chink I got to do my laundry.”

“But if they moved or stopped their businesses would you go after them?”  Kurt asked, still keeping his voice low as they raised theirs.

“No!  But they're only dealing with my clothing.  You, you're dealin' with my money.  That ain't no triflin' matter boy.”  Paulie quipped, earning a nod from the other two men.

Kurt looked between them, all wearing sour faces.  “Can I ask why only three of you are here?”

“Cause' a' you one of the families is in chaos since a bunch of the high rankers were killed, and Badry, who you got to do the dirty work, seems okay with you leavin' us high n' dry.” Anthony explained.

To that, Kurt nodded thoughtfully.  He had at least one ally then, not that it would help him now.  “So tell me what you'd like me to do for you then.”

“Get back in business or get the treatment… if you know what I mean.”  Silvio uttered, drawing a line over his neck with a finger just in case Kurt was completely inept.

“I'm not interested in either, and neither should any of you.”

“Eh?  And why's that?”

Kurt gestured towards his screen.  “I trust you've brought someone who knows how to read the books.”

There was a nod from the threesome, and a dainty looking little guy in a suit and pushed-up-the-nose glasses walked up to Kurt's desk where Kurt, refusing to give up his seat, turned the computer towards him.  “I'm no longer in a position to do business since I have no money to serve as capital in any investments, nor any money to loan out.”

The three family bosses furrowed their brows and turned their attention onto their lackey to confirm what Kurt had said, who, after scrolling through Kurt's records and data, nodded to the bosses, “It's true.  He transferred all his accounts to another party after paying off all debts and prepaying bills… he's essentially broke and has no money to his name.”

“The fuck?!”  Paulie snapped, storming up to the desk and smacking his palms down on them to glower at Kurt, who could smell the alcohol wafting off the man's breath.  “So you just have a death wish then eh?”

“Sir…?”  The little man looking at the screen piped up, gulping as Paulie looked at him.  

Through it all, Kurt had stayed firm, not responding to the way the man tried to intimidate him or make him quaver.  He purposely didn't look at Blaine, knowing full well his resolve would be weakened if he did.  He had to play this right.

“Uh… well.. Mr. Hummel here also has a lot of information on each of you in a file on here….”

Paulie's enormous bushy eyebrows damn near lifted off his forehead, “Like what kinda information?”

“Details about how much you boys spend on your mistresses, vacations with prostitutes that you tell your wives and families are business meetings, money spent on deals meant to undermine other families -”

“The fuck you get that information creep?!” Anthony yelled, joining Paulie at the desk and shaking his fist Kurt's way.

“You were the ones that entrusted your money to me.  The details on how you spent it came along with it.”  Kurt shrugged apologetically - though he was anything but.

“So delete it!”  Silvio snapped at the man before the computer.

“I wouldn't.”  Kurt advised.  “It's encrypted.  If a deletion is attempted, it gets sent out automatically to all mafia contacts I have, including families, as well as the press.”

The papers and pens Kurt had on his desk bounced up into the air as Paulie's fist hit the table.  “This is fucking blackmail!”

“I should also note that if I don't make regular check-in's with my lawyer that the information will also be released as he has a copy.”  Kurt bluffed.  It was the first thing he said that wasn't quite true, but also the thing that might ensure his survival.

“Give us his name!”  Anthony demanded.

Kurt shook his head.  “As I said, Simon is very reliable, and so long as I am alive and breathing and happy, I am too.”

The bosses pulled back a few steps, making a small triangle as they spoke in hushes, and Kurt could hear just how heavy and quick Blaine's breaths were coming from beside him.  If they made it through the day, he intended to hold Blaine close.

“No one crosses the families Hummel.”  Anthony said with a snarl as he pulled away from the group.

Kurt interlaced his fingers and set his elbows on the desk as he leaned forward. “I'm not crossing anyone.  I just want to retire in peace.  Wouldn't you if you had the opportunity?”

Anthony didn't respond, but did scowl Kurt's way before looking back at his colleagues, still in heated debate, speaking rapidly over one another with words that were mostly curses.  By the sounds of things, they weren't coming to any conclusion over what to do, just placing blame on one another and accusing each other of undermining them.

How they managed to get along at all long enough to come to his home in a group was beyond Kurt.

“Can he get that money back Chris?”  Paulie asked of the little man they had working for them, breaking out of the circle for just a moment.

The man shook his head, “No.  It's irreversible and split between several accounts under federal watch….”

That prompted a new line of expletives from Paulie as he turned back to Anthony and Silvio, whose tones were becoming less raised and more hushed.

Finally, the outcome.  It was Silvio who was somehow elected between the trio to step up to Kurt, hands outstretched and face dull, “You know that people live and die by this business…”

“I know.”  Kurt admitted, holding his breath as he said it.

“... and you know people look to us to set examples so that we don't end up looking like pansies that can be crossed…”

Kurt nodded, stiffening up and making a mental assessment: How quickly could he pull his gun if they pulled theirs?

“Now I really don't like that you have all this supposed information on us, and would be willing to use it against us in the event of your untimely demise.  Here I thought you and I were friends.”

Kurt kept his professional wit about him as he looked to Silvio, summoning as much sincerity as he could.  “I would have liked that, but, business first, then pleasure… and for too long there has been no pleasure in my life.”

“Eh… I get that… I truly do.”  Silvio shrugged up his shoulders.  “Still… woulda' been nice you coming to talk about wanting to retire directly to us instead of all this shady underhanded nonsense.. y'know what I mean?”

“I apologize for the perceived deception.  My plans were not well thought ahead at the time I made them, and now that I have committed to them, I can't go back on them.”

Silvio nodded a bit, his eyes, as they always had been, thoughtful.  “Apparently that's the case.  So, seeing as you are a trustworthy fellow, we're thinking we let you off the hook… but it's going to hurt our street cred if it seems that easy…. y'know?”

Kurt breathed out finally in relief, his head buzzing from the momentary lack of oxygen he afforded it.  “I understand… and because I wouldn't want your businesses to suffer, I will inform any that inquire that it was you that let me go because Simon was a better financial advisor.  Besides… they'll see me without any money left to my name and assume it was all of you that ruined me.  Most men would rather be dead than penniless.”

They all nodded at that, though Paulie was still making fists at his side, and made sure that Kurt knew “But if you try an' use that information against us or tell anyone anything else, I will personally track you down, cut off your balls and shove them down your boyfriend's throat for him to choke on.  Got it?”

Kurt nodded, “Got it.”