Yellow Roses // Thomas Shelby

Chapter Thirteen

October 15, 1914

I doubled over the toilet, letting out all the food I had eaten two days previous. Martha came into the bathroom after me, seeing my current state and holding my hair behind my neck so it wouldn't get all disgusting.

"I'm going to fucking kill myself if this keeps happening." I told her as I flushed the remains away, wiping my mouth with a washcloth. "I'm not even stressed about anything. This usually happens when I'm stressed."

Martha let go of my hair, furrowing her eyebrows at me. I tied my hair back up, looking at myself in the mirror.

"Nat, when was your last cycle?" She asked as I walked out to the kitchen, looking at her.

"What?" I asked, completely oblivious to what she was asking.

Polly came into the room as I started making the coffee, pouring Polly's glass first, then Martha's, then mine.

"When was your last cycle?" Martha asked me again, making Polly eye me with a confusing look. A small, confused smile crept onto my face, trying to ignore what she was saying.

"I've never really paid attention to it. When it came it came..." I told her, looking between Polly and Martha. They both shared the same look.

"Did you have sex in the past couple months?" Martha asked me. I braced myself on the counter, looking down and processing what was being said.

Martha and Polly waited for my response, seeing what I was going to say. I didn't like the feeling of this. Now one bit. It could absolutely demolish my career, and even take away from it. Hell, I'm only 25 years old.

"Well, Polly, looks like you're going to have a grand fucking niece or nephew." I told her while keeping my head down. Her mouth opened a bit, looking at me, then turning into a smile.

"Thomas?" She asked, I nodded. Her and Martha laughed together, then pressed their hands together.

"I didn't think he had it in him." Martha commented, sipping on her coffee.

Polly lifted my chin up, inspecting my body. "You won't show until the first of January. I hope that won't be a problem." She asked, referring to my dancing career. I shook my head.

"It won't." They were all happy.

-

"Natalia, this is Robert Luss, He is Russian. He has been dancing for 12 years. New partner." Ivanov told me. This kid didn't look any older than 12

"How old is he?" I asked as I put down my bag, rolling up my sleeves. "What happened to Adam?"

"Adam back in Germany. Robert 17. Very good dancer for his age." Ivanov told me, gesturing to the new boy. "We on ice today. Season starts two week."

I walked over to the 17 year old, holding out my hand to shake. He latched onto it, a firm grip. I waited for Ivanov to step out of the studio before pulling him closer to my face.

"I know this is none of your business, but I have a child inside me. I'd like it if he didn't know." Robert nodded, pulling his hand away.

"Your word is safe with me, Ms. Vallelonga." His voice was shaky, avoiding eye contact with me.

"Don't do that." I hit his chin so he looked up at me. "You call me Natalia, Nat, Natty, Valli, anything but Ms. Vallelonga. You're going to be my partner. Start acting like it."

Once I had my skates tightened, I skated to the middle of the rink, getting some warm up spins in and flexibly stunts in. Robert on the other hand looked like he was a fucking professional. He was landing doubles like this was his day job.

"Alright. New routine from last year. No ballroom." Ivanov said, looking at the two of us. I scoffed. Ballroom was nearly a third of my income.

"Why not? That was one of our bestsellers last year." I skated towards Ivanov as he walked off the ice.

"Because Ballroom need couple. You not couple. You are boy and girl. Boy and Woman." He told me. I groaned and skated back towards the center. Robert had his hands folded in front of him, waiting for me.

We worked on the routine. Every spin, every jump, every fucking movement was precise with me. I had gotten used to the fact that nothing I did was perfect for my instructor.

A cigarette hung in my mouth as I took a break, looking at the letters I had gotten from my assistant. He dropped them in my mailbox this morning, I figured I could just look at them here.

The door opened with an obnoxious bang, Steve and Harry coming through the door, looking straight at me, a folder in each of their hands.

"What the hell? You thought I told you I had work for the first eight hours of the day?" I stood up, putting my blade covers on and walking over to them.

"A designer company wants you to come to their office at 5. Harry thought it'd be wise to tell you about four hours in advance." Steve told me, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking around the rink.

I groaned, going onto the ice while looking at the paper. I've gotten so many of these fucking deals, it makes me sick. All I'm doing is promoting shit for other people.

"Come back in three hours, remind me." I threw the papers back in their face. "Don't fucking bother me again. That's not what I pay you for."

-

The office was decorated with chandeliers and diamonds and everything that made them look wealthy. They wanted to make a design for me, hoping it would bring them business. I don't see how that would happen, but it got me money and that's what I was after.

"Mrs-" I cut him off immediately.

"It's Ms. I'm not married," I gave him a small smile, trying to set the tone and make myself seem like a warm person.

"Ms. Vallelonga," he sat down across from me, carrying a notepad. "It's no surprise you are becoming a well known woman around the world. Women are starting to do their hair like you, dress like you..." I nodded in an understanding way.

"I wanted to create a line of clothing that represents you. I've asked some of my assistants to draw up some designs," he laid a pad down in front of me. I looked through it, liking a few of the drawings.

"Do you have any requests?" He asked me. I folded the corners of the pages I liked.

"I'm sorry, I never got your name?" I asked him, completely ignoring his question for now.

"Riccardo Dumont, Madam." He told me. I smirked.

"You're French?" I asked, he nodded. "The only request I have is for you to ship anywhere. When I go on tour, I'll put out fliers with your card on it."

"That's a very good idea." He commented. "More money for the both of us."

"Yes of course." I handed his notepad back, smiling. "Can I stop by tomorrow morning? It's late and I really should be home by now. Would you mind if I drew up some of my own designs?" I asked, not really caring what his answer was. I was going to do what I wanted regardless.

"That would be wonderful, Ms. Vallelonga." He grabbed the pad from my hand and opened the doors for me, letting me find myself out of the building.

Today would've been better if Thomas was here.