The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Twenty-Three

Author's Note: Thank you to all your support in regards to my father. It means the world to me. Also, I appreciate all your love and appreciation for my work. I feel my writing has been lacking lately. This chapter was supposed to include her match, but I thought to split it into two chapters. TW: Grooming and gaslighting. 

Amelia already had her suspicions, but sharing a hotel room with him confirmed it; Tommy Shelby hardly slept, and when he did, it was on his back with his arms tucked under his head. She wanted to comment on it as she slipped on her socks and trainers, but he'd gotten ready before her and was occupied with organizing himself for the day ahead. Amelia kept glancing over, finding herself looking down, embarrassed. But with the big day ahead of her, she attempted to push it down. He seemed unbothered by it as he always did. So much so that when they were in the taxi, he asked her why she was so off. Of course, nothing less than a dry manner that had no proof he even cared to begin with. Amelia turned to him and said, "I'm fine, Mr. Shelby-"

"So, even little girls do that?" he commented, a bit condescending. Little girl? Sixteen was not exactly little then. Sixteen year olds got married then and were more often than not on their first kid. He hadn't even cared to look at her, showing little if any respect. Tommy Shelby had been too preoccupied counting his smokes for the day and popping one in his mouth. Muffled, he continued, clearly mocking, "I'm fine." Amelia swallowed, checking the time and looking out the window, making exit plans in her head. Is this how he was going to be? This early in the morning? Tommy took the smoke from his lips, perching it between his index and middle finger, motioning her way. "Something is in your head...rather you bore me then let it get to you on the court-"

"Mr. Shelby, I'm okay, really," she begged, sliding far from him. The taxi driver looked back connecting eyes with him and then Amelia. She forced a polite smile. "Bonjour!" Tommy, amused, raised a brow at her.

"Oh, learn that yesterday, eh?" Tommy Shelby shared that same knowing look with Polly, Amelia discovered. He looked over at her, dryly.

"I thought everyone knew bonjour, Mr. Shelby," she commented. "I'd think with your time here in France, you would have picked up a few words." Tommy chuckled to himself. He thought, after all this time, she still has that quick tongue. "He saw me at the gallery," she explained, knowing he knew everything or at least a part. "He apologized and offered me a hot chocolate as a peace offering-"

"I'd think someone like you wouldn't accept so easily, you know?" he teased. "With your temper and all." Tommy reached over and Amelia flinched, seeing his hand come over. It hovered over her knee. For security, she rested her fingers around the door handle as if it was feasible to leave.

"I'm trying to be better," she lied, watching his hand with intense awareness.

He noticed, seeing how her thigh tensed. "Your skirts are shorter now, have you noticed? Reach your calves now." That's when he put the smoke back between his lips and reached down to her calves, resting it there before dragging up. Amelia hardened, squeezing her legs shut and tensing. Her heart pounded against her chest, thumping and thumping. If she wasn't aware of her body, she would have cried a heart attack. To her dismay, his hand was slick in teasing up the back of her calf, snaking around and up her thigh, taking the skirt with him. "They say it's easier for playing, no more tripping over your skirts-"