Read this book if you want to f-k Tommy Shelby.
You're Billy Kimber's daughter.
You've been accused of stealing the Peaky Blinders' shipment of guns.
And now you're forced to work with Tommy Shelby to solve the mystery of who's framing your father...
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There's only one man I trust when it comes to advice for double crossing people.
And the only chance I'll get to see him is at our engagement party.
Fuck Alfie Solomon's limbs — I find myself caressing my own, praying they'll still be intact after Tommy finds out I'm going along with this.
I decide it's best if he doesn't know. Not yet, at least. One engagement party won't hurt. It means I'll be able to speak with Alfie privately now that my father's men aren't letting me go anywhere unguarded. For my own safety, my father says — now they're feuding with the Italians, I could become a target. But I know that's not the full truth. It's control. He knows he can't trust me anymore. That I might run away again.
So I shift all the furniture in my room — the bookcases and side cabinets, so heavy nobody in their right mind would do this without very, very good reason. And I reach the private phone.
Tommy assured me it had been set up with its own line. But still I pause, waiting for a moment after lifting the receiver, listening intently for any sign someone's listening in. Only once I'm satisfied, do I reach the operator and ask for Tommy's number.
It rings. And rings, and rings. There's noise outside my home, cars arriving and guests being led inside. Maybe Tommy's not home. Or maybe he's tucked away in the dining room, playing a game of cards with Polly and his brothers. The thought makes me feel very lonely.
Finally, there's a click through the line — and in the same moment, footsteps in the hallway outside my door. Heavy. Almost thunderous, and determined.
I slam the receiver down, scrambling to my feet and shoving the furniture back into place with all my might. The wood groans and scrapes across the floor, leaving a thick groove in its wake. The door opens before I've fully pushed them back into position. I'm forced to turn around, panting lightly, looking sheepish.
Roberts blinks. "What are you doing?"
"Rearranging my room." I release a shaky breath, pulling myself upright. "What is it?"
He clears his throat softly. "I'm wondering if you've thought over my offer."
Yes. Extensively. Non stop. It's been all that's plagued my mind the past two days — how I can juggle so many moving parts. The only way to know who did it, is to turn the information over to my father. I could warn Tommy about what I've learned so far, ask what he thinks I should do. But the same nagging thoughts scratch in my brain.
What if it was him?
I've come to know him well by now. Well enough to know the ends will always justify his means. He's not above lying, not even to his own flesh and blood, if he sees it as the only way forward to protect everyone. It's not that I don't trust him — though I don't fully trust him — but rather that I know I need to find this out independently. Get the information from Roberts. Find a way to verify it.
