The Sharpest Jewel | Alfie Solomons |

~ Chapter 25 ~

Small Heath, Birmingham 1919.

The following morning, Florence awoke with a heaviness that wasn't unfamiliar, but today it was different. Thomas Shelby's offer weighed on her she had no clue what he actually done but from the state of Arthur and the way Thomas spoke of loyalty it must have been a shifty thing, and the reality of stepping into his world began to sink in. She wasn't entirely sure what she had signed up for, but there was no turning back now. The club had been fine for survival, but it wasn't a life and it tore away a bit off her every time she stepped on that stage and had to strip to her undergarments and it would only be so long before she would be asked to remove those too. Florence had longed for more since the war ended.

She went about her morning routine, brewing a pot of tea and looking out the small window of her flat. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was early, too early for visitors, and her landlord wasn't due for rent collection anytime soon. Curious but cautious, she walked to the door and opened it slightly, peeking through the gap.

It was Thomas Shelby again, standing tall in another sharply tailored suit, his flat cap tilted slightly forward. "Morning, Miss Warden," Thomas greeted her, his voice smooth and low. "Mr. Shelby," she nodded, stepping back and letting him in. "I wasn't expecting you."."I don't like leaving things undone," Thomas replied, his eyes scanning the small, modest flat again before turning his attention back to her.

"I've made arrangements for you to start today."."Today?" Florence echoed, caught off guard by the immediacy. She hadn't thought it would begin so soon, and the prospect of entering his world today felt abrupt. "You asked for a job," Thomas said, his tone leaving little room for argument. "I don't waste time." Florence swallowed her nerves and nodded, knowing she couldn't back out now. "What exactly will I be doing?"."For now," Thomas began, "you'll start with bookkeeping. I'll have you working at one of the Shelby Company offices. You'll be taught what you need to know. You keep things organised." Bookkeeping. It wasn't what she had envisioned, but it was a foot in the door, and perhaps safer than being tangled in the more dangerous aspects of their business. "I can do that," she said, her voice steady despite her uncertainty.

Florence had barely taken a step back after Thomas's cold instructions when he looked her over, a calculating gleam in his eyes. He gestured to her simple dress and work coat. "That won't do for today." Florence frowned, confused. "What do you mean?" "You're coming with me," Thomas said, his voice flat, leaving no room for protest. "Family wedding. My brother John is getting married today." "A wedding?" she repeated, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of this sudden twist. She had never been to a wedding before.

"You work with for me now. That means something to me. To us." Thomas's sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment before he added, "You'll be there." Florence's pulse quickened. "Mr. Shelby, I don't even know your brother. I—" Thomas cut her off. "Put on something nice. You don't need to know him. Today, you'll stand with us." Florence hesitated, her heart pounding. There was something unsettling about Thomas's casual demand, as if he was pulling her deeper into their world with every word. She didn't know what role she was being given at this wedding, or why her presence would matter at all, but refusing didn't seem like an option.

With a sigh, she nodded. "Give me a moment." Thomas turned away. "You've got ten minutes." Florence rushed to her wardrobe, her hands trembling slightly as she sifted through the few dresses she owned. She settled on the best one she had—a dark green dress with lace detailing. It wasn't extravagant, but it was elegant enough to avoid drawing the wrong kind of attention. She ran a brush through her hair quickly, pinning a few stray strands back before slipping into her shoes. When she emerged, Thomas looked her over with a curt nod. "That'll do," he said, opening the door for her. "Let's go." Florence followed Thomas down the narrow staircase and into the waiting car, her mind swirling with questions. Why was she being dragged into this? Did he really warrant her presence at such a personal family event? She was a stranger just a few days ago.