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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲, stirred by the cool night air seeping into her room. It was another restless night, lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when the endless stream of thoughts would stop haunting her. With a sigh, she pushed herself up and wandered downstairs, heading to the kitchen. After rummaging through the cupboards, frustration settled in—no alcohol left.
She stood there for a moment, debating whether to crawl back to bed and let the night drown her, or grab her coat and head to the Garrison. It was past 3 a.m., and she wasn't sure if it would still be open. Eventually, the latter option won.
Pulling her coat tighter around her, she stepped out into the silent streets. The cold breeze bit at her skin, and the world felt eerily still, with all the house lights snuffed out. A sliver of fear crawled up her spine—walking alone in the dark wasn't comforting. But then, this was Shelby's territory, and by now, everyone knew who she was. People in Small Heath talked. They knew how much Thomas Shelby seemed to favor her, even if she tried to brush it off.
When she reached the corner where the Garrison stood, she spotted Harry locking the doors. She cursed under her breath, turning on her heel, defeated. As she walked past the Shelby house, she noticed a light flicker on. Something nudged her to approach, to knock. She didn't quite know what. But she did.
Within seconds, the door swung open, revealing Thomas Shelby on the other side. His sharp eyes settled on her, and before she could second-guess her decision, she murmured, "Can I have a drink? I couldn't sleep..."
Thomas tilted his head slightly, a silent invitation. She stepped inside, following him to the living room where she sank into the sofa, resting her head on the soft cushion. He set down a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in front of her, pouring the amber liquid without a word and pushing a glass toward her.
She downed the drink in one go, her mind momentarily silenced by the burn of the whiskey. Then, without much thought, she lay back down, resting her head on his lap. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand absently drifted to her hair, fingers running through her golden locks. "You can't sleep either?" she asked, voice quiet, like the night.
"Hmm," Thomas hummed, still playing with her hair, each stroke of his fingers deliberate, almost tender.
She felt the tension in her slowly ease, the weight of the night dissipating as his touch lulled her into a calm she hadn't felt in days. But then, his voice cut through the silence. "What do you think of Sabini's racecourses?"
Valentina opened her eyes, musing over the question. "He took me to a few," she replied, her voice soft but thoughtful. "Full of posh men in suits and silk hats, all pretending to be kings in their little world." She paused, feeling his hand in her hair, a delicate contrast to the brutal world they both navigated. "You're thinking of dethroning the racecourse king, aren't you?" Thomas gave a slight nod, his gaze steady on her, waiting.
