An adventurous assassin gets called to Small Heath to kill Thomas Shelby. She soon learns just how much the decision to accept this mission changes her. Thomas Shelby stirs long unfelt feelings, and she struggles to decide the fate of her future.
When Ann and Thomas made it back to the house, she took him to the second floor bathroom with a porcelain bathing pool. She put a new suit she'd found in one of the bedrooms on a table outside the door, and left for the kitchens. Once he was clean and dressed, he'd find his way. In the meantime, she started in the kitchen icebox.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She took out the chopped chicken drumsticks and vegetables she had set aside earlier in the day. They were mixed together in a bowl with different seasonings and oil. She then took the steamer pot from the low shelf above the sink, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. Finally, she placed the bowl of food into the pot of water and turned on the stove.
"No stable hands, no maids, now no cooks."
Ann whirled around to the cased opening of the kitchen, calming when she found Thomas watching her. He had left his suit jacket off, revealing a hand gun held in a shoulder holster.
She blinked with surprise at the softness of his feet. "My father gives the maids and cooks paid breaks when he and my mother go on vacation." She fibbed, recalling his words. "And I told the stable hands to take the day off."
"Didn't want them to know who you were doing business with?" he asked. Ann decided she'd take a page out of his book and didn't respond. He stepped further into the kitchen, settling with leaning against the cupboards.
She figured he was waiting on her to escort him out of the manor. "Would you like me to-."
"You still have your winnings to collect." Thomas interrupted. "From the race."
Right. Ann looked back at the food cooking on the stove and covered the pot with its lid. "I'd like you to tell me something."
Thomas looked at her with slightly furrowed eyebrows.
"I'd like you to tell me the worst thing you've ever done to another person."
Thomas scoffed and put his hands into the pockets of his pants. "We agreed on a prize that was within reason."
"Within reason is subjective." Ann said and lifted a shoulder. Thomas stayed silent for a few moments and then spoke.
"That's your choice? Not anything along the lines of indentured servitude."
If that was more reasonable than answering her question, she feared his answer. He took out a cigarette, and Ann leaned onto the kitchen table on her forearms, waiting.
"I guess I'd expect nothing less from someone who quotes Giordano Bruno." He said as he struck a match and lit his cigarette.
Ann didn't bother covering her surprise. She knew he was evading her question, but she'd bite. "You caught that?"
"If the unicorn runs to its chaste nest, it's only because he doesn't see the noose prepared for him." Thomas recited the poetry of the sixteenth-century cleric with ease and distaste. "An infinite body, according to us, is neither potentially nor actually mobile, neither light nor heavy potentially or actually."
