Bancroft - Peaky Blinders Reverse Harem x Reader

Chapter 4

I can tell Arthur is as uncomfortable with this arrangement as I am. But, to his credit, he pushes onward.

"My room," he mumbles at the top of the landing, pointing at each door in turn, "Tommy's room, Michael's, and yours."

I frown. "Wasn't there someone else?"

"John," he confirms, with a smile playing at his lips. "But he, ah, his room's downstairs. Converted one of the offices."

"Why?" I ask, frowning. "You can't have been keeping one empty for me?"

"No. John just likes to have company every now and then."

I don't miss the connotation behind his words. "And the rest of you don't?" I ask, confused by why the thought bothers me so much.

I suppose it must be because I don't want to have to deal with people coming and going all the time. This is a whole new world here, a way of life I've never been exposed to.

"Not so much," Arthur admits. "Not after the war. Even John boy's not as frequent as he used to be. He's just... enthusiastic, is all," he grins.

"Brilliant," I mutter. "Can't wait."

Arthur hovers a moment longer on the landing. My suitcases are already leaning against the door, Tommy must have brought them up. I fold my arms across my chest and wait for Arthur to leave.

"Your father was a boxer then, eh?" he asks. I nod. "Mine too," he says. "Well. Among other things. Been thinking of getting back into it myself, you know."

"Do you have children?" I ask.

He blinks. "No."

"Then go for it. You won't be fucking up anyone's life."

"There's other ways to fuck up a child's life," he says darkly.

"I don't doubt it." I sniff.

He hesitates for a moment. "Well. Night, Bancroft."

I nod. "Arthur."

***

It's pitch black. Night, once more. I lie frozen in my bed, while heavy footsteps ring ominously through the house. I'm paralysed with fear, and they come closer, and the door flies open. There's steel at my head and bullets in the air, and then I'm covered in dirt, burying bodies, until I fall into the grave. Dirt falls on me, trapping me, and I can't breathe as I'm buried alive—

"Oi!" The hissed whisper jerks me back to consciousness. "Wake up!"

I flinch away from the hands around me, before I realise they're not gloved and trying to kill me, but bare and pulling back the duvet that had been smothering me. It's not dirt. I'm not lying in a grave.

And then I remember — I'm in the Peaky Blinders' house.

"Who are you?" I hiss back.

"I'm John," he whispers loudly, sighing and slumping down beside me. "And I'm very fucking drunk."

"Weren't you supposed to be working?"

"Tommy let us go early," John grins, his white teeth visible in the streams of moonlight coming through the cream curtains. "Had to celebrate, didn't we? Don't know where Michael is, though," he frowns. "Think your shouting frightened him."

"I didn't shout," I say matter-of-factly, my cheeks growing warm. "I was asleep."

"Shouting, you were," he nods sagely. "And thrashing about. Nothing to be ashamed of, not in this house." I hear him swallow. "Every night, for at least one of us. Ever since the war."

We lay in silence for a moment. I wonder what's running through his mind. What terrors and trauma, what horrors he has witnessed. How he can stand to function. Whether bullets fly everywhere when he closes his eyes, too...

And then he releases a loud, comical snore.

I roll my eyes. "Off my bed," I order, giving him a shove. "Out of the room."

He stumbles as he pushes himself to his feet. "But I can't remember where mine is," he groans.

"Downstairs," I tell him. "Because of your lady friends."

"Oh yeah. Hmm," he laughs once. "That's right."

"Goodnight, John," I say pointedly, rolling over.

But then I feel a heat press against my back, completely disarming. The sharp tang of whiskey spreads across me as John whispers against my neck, his whole body barely an inch from my own.

"I forgot to bring a lady friend tonight," he says. He nuzzles against my neck. "I'll be all alone."

A rush of tingles spreads down my spine, and my whole body comes alight. I'm not expecting the reaction, and as it takes me by surprise, my body instinctively responding. I'm not aware of choosing to arch my back, or tilt my head for easier access, or release a soft gasp — but it all happens.

"You haven't even seen me in the daylight," I say softly, as his lips brush across my sensitive skin, never fully making contact.

"Daylight's overrated," he says.

But my hands find his wrists as he tries to snake his arms around me, tries to pull me against him. I release his hold on my waist. I pull away from him. Firstly, I am not sleeping with one of these men, and definitely not on my first night here. Secondly, I refuse to be another lady friend to John Shelby.

"I prefer it to the dark," I tell him. "Now, off to bed."

"Okay," John sighs. "But I'll make you coffee in the morning, and then you'll have to think I'm charming and fall in love with me, eh?"

"Dream on." But I can't help a small smile as he stumbles out of the room.