Mrs. Shelby (Thomas Shelby x OC)

* Chapter five - Closer

In Birmingham, in May 1919, I discovered that Thomas was far more ambitious than I had initially thought. He entrusted Arthur with overseeing their pre-military responsibilities, such as street patrols and collecting protection money, while he focused on the more substantial business of horse betting. Horse racing was a widespread pastime, originally hailing from the Chelsea and Kensington districts of London. Wealthy individuals bet on horses to flaunt their status or unique tastes, while even the less affluent dabbled in gambling, seeking the thrill of chance. However, I never favored gambling; the uncertainty and lack of control over the future didn't sit well with me. I preferred to be the one in control.

Since our first kiss the previous month, it seemed that Thomas had given his heart to me, and we shared a secret bond. He sought my business advice and insisted on my presence at family meetings. Privately, after dispensing advice, whether useful or not, he always relished a kiss, often leaving my lipstick smeared and messy. Ada even once suspected that I was allergic or poisoned.

He had even propositioned me for sex once, which left me astounded at how straightforward and direct people could be about relationships in this place. I refused, firmly believing it wasn't John who had impregnated Martha before their marriage.

During meetings, I often played absentmindedly with a pen, tuning in and out, occasionally voicing support for Thomas and attempting to persuade others. I swear, my agreement with Thomas was purely professional and unrelated to our love life. Polly always deemed Thomas's ideas as reckless. She confided in me that if given the chance, she could sway Thomas and ease his tension. But I knew the truth. The arms we possessed were both an asset and a danger. Used wisely, they could pave the way for us; mishandled, they could obliterate us. To make these weapons more impactful, we needed to engage in more complex maneuvers, and Thomas was merely leading us to a higher-stakes chessboard.

Late at night, we would steal moments to kiss secretly in the deserted kitchen. "We don't need to be so discreet," Thomas would complain for the fourth time that day. His voice, deep and charming, never failed to captivate me. I would cup his face, offer a reassuring kiss, and then attend to the stove.

"If people knew we were together," I'd say while pouring steaming milk into his cup, "they'd think I support you out of love, and my words would carry no weight."

"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. "Oh, Mr. Shelby, never underestimate a woman," I sighed, "I'll use my brains to think and my heart to love you. Supporting you and loving you are separate matters."

He sipped his milk, and the topic was set aside. We both knew there were many issues to address, and dwelling on them was fruitless. Thomas sometimes shared my father's belief that women didn't grasp their men's work, so they should provide love and a stable home. Changing Thomas in such a short time was improbable, and honestly, I didn't want to. Despite his occasional vexations—like never uttering sweet words to me, loitering in my office, and sometimes using his sharp tongue—I cherished those imperfections that only I knew. They added warmth to the otherwise cold and ruthless gang leader.

He was my little prince, concealing a sea of sorrow in his eyes. "I heard there's a witchcraft girl in Garrison Lane," he mentioned, pulling me into his arms and placing me on his lap. "But that's Chinese territory."

I couldn't help but try to maintain Thomas's composure. He was just as obstinate as I was, even though I wasn't entirely committed to the task Polly had entrusted to me.

"Calm down, Thomas. Be patient, my dear, and remember not to be pushy. After all, we're the ones seeking assistance."

"Will the great diplomat accompany me tomorrow?" Thomas's hand ventured up my thigh again. "I'll be going to the bar to check the accounts tomorrow."