Devil | A Solomons

NINE - EMERALD ARMCHAIRS

Irina had kept her distance from both Thomas Shelby and Luca Changretta for the past two weeks. Luca had made a habit of calling her office at least once a day to check on her, though he had no need since she'd already spotted one of his men lurking around outside her offices all day.

The fact Luca was so worried about her made half of her heart warm, but the other half freeze. In one breath, she was amazed that somebody cared deeply enough about her to want to protect her, but in the next breath, she was irritated down to her bones that he thought she couldn't protect herself.

In truth, Irina probably couldn't protect herself, not from the type of situation that for some reason she'd found herself caught up in, anyway. She was confident in her ability to defend herself against gangs of men, but in reality, she knew she wouldn't stand a chance. Whether she liked it or not, Luca was looking out for her.

She hadn't seen or heard from any of the Shelby brothers since Thomas' visit to London, but she had a feeling that not much more time would pass until she saw his face again.

Irina had spent occasional evenings with Luca over the fourteen days and nights, but no more than that. She had so much on her mind that she found even during sex, her mind was preoccupied with other things. The reliability of Alfie Solomons, being one of those things.

It was dark when Irina walked into the pub buried deep down a back alley in Camden Town. The sign above the door creaked as it blew in a strong gust of wind, windows rickety as candles flickered from inside.

She pushed open the door, ignoring the stares from the factory workers and men with stained cheeks and torn clothes, jugs of ale in their hands, bottles of whiskey on the tables. Spotting Alfie, she made her way over to him without wasting another second.

"Mr Solomons?" She said, clearing her throat as she approached the arm chair by the fireplace that he was peacefully sat in.

"Irina," he beamed, gesturing to the armchair opposite him, "Have a seat, to what do I owe to pleasure? Bar man, a glass of champagne! If you don't have any, go and buy some."

Irina took a seat opposite Alfie, shrugging off her fur coat and laying it across the side of the chair, smiling shyly at the bartender who stared as she joined Alfie.

"Thanks," she said quietly, "I just wanted to speak to you about something, if you don't mind."

"Ah," he nodded with a knowing grin, "Your vodka. Nice, from what I remember. Little bit strong, not sure if it's what people need when they have work in the morning, perhaps tone it down a bit."

Irina rolled her eyes, "Not about my vodka. And if it was, I certainly wouldn't be asking you, your rum tastes like sewage water."

"Can't say I've ever tried sewage water to make that comparison myself, love."

Glaring at him with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, Alfie's lips curved into a mischievous smile as the barman placed down a glass of champagne in front of Irina.

"Go on," he drew in a breath and leant back in the chair, the roar of the fire beside them warming Irina's cold hands, "What can I do for you?"

She pursed her lips after taking a sip of her champagne, debating for a moment on whether to say what she'd planned to before arriving at the pub that night.

"Well," she began, "I want to know if I can trust you, first."

Alfie chuckled, licking his lips, "Where is this going, Irina?"

"Can I trust you, Alfie? Can I trust you to not say anything to Thomas?"

He raised an eyebrow, his seriousness increasing, "Why? Is it about Luca?"