The Sharpest Jewel | Alfie Solomons |

~ Chapter 41 ~

Birmingham, 1924.

"Why am I here ?" Florence muttered as she stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her with a sharp motion. She been in foul mood since she awoke it was from missing Lara to being back in Birmingham to Alfie barley speaking to her since yesterday. "Because, Flo, you're here on Shelby Company's behalf," Tommy replied without missing a beat, his tone calm as he lit a cigarette. "If anything needs noting, I'll have you to call back on." He flicked the lighter shut, his attention already shifting to the cigarette now resting between his fingers.

Florence folded her arms, her expression still questioning, but Tommy wasn't looking at her anymore. He turned toward the path ahead, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he spoke. "Right, boys, just remember—they're fucking insane, dangerous, and drunk on stuff we've never even heard of before. And they're worse than us for spirits and ghosts." Florence arched an eyebrow at his words but said nothing. Tommy continued walking forward, his stride purposeful, leaving Florence standing for a brief moment. Her gaze flicked to Arthur, who avoided meeting her eyes, his jaw set tightly. He quickly followed his brother. "Fuck 'em," Arthur muttered, his gruff voice cutting through the silence. His remark drew a smirk from John, who seemed to be amused by his older brother's unbothered attitude.

As they moved forward, Florence finally turned her attention to their surroundings. The estate ahead loomed dark and imposing, framed by a row of stern-faced soldiers flanking the walkway. Their rigid posture and watchful eyes gave the scene an oppressive weight that pressed against her chest. From the far end of the line, the Duchess emerged, her movements deliberate and her gaze sharp as it scanned the group approaching her.

"The Russians all turned and ran," Arthur spoke loudly, his voice breaking through the tense silence, earning the attention of the suited men standing nearby. Florence felt their piercing stares settle on the group, but she kept her eyes trained forward, resisting the urge to meet their glares. "The Cossacks didn't run, Arthur," Tommy corrected casually, taking a slow drag from his cigarette as if the weight of their audience didn't faze him in the slightest.

The Duchess came to a halt in front of them, her eyes locking onto Tommy with a cool intensity. "Mr. Shelby, welcome," she said, her voice carrying an air of authority as her gaze shifted briefly to Arthur and John before landing on Florence. It lingered there, sharp and assessing. "How was my car?" she asked, though it felt less like a question and more like a pointed challenge. Her cold gaze flicked back to Tommy. "I think I'm in love with it," Tommy replied smoothly, his expression unreadable as he exhaled another stream of smoke.
"And I yours," the Duchess responded, allowing a faint, coy smile to curl her lips. "So we should keep what we love, yes?"

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and began walking back toward the manor. Her movements were graceful, calculated, and commanding. The group followed, their steps crunching against the gravel. Florence noticed Arthur spit on the ground, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

John nudged her shoulder lightly as they walked, his voice low and amused. "The treasury, aye?" he said, raising his brows with a mischievous grin. Florence didn't respond, her attention pulled back to Arthur, whose movements were stiff and terse. His jaw clenched as he muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Florence's lips pressed into a thin line as the group continued their approach toward the shadowy manor ahead.

The group followed the Duchess deeper into the manor, their footsteps echoing through the grand halls until they stopped in a dimly lit room. The air was thick with tension, a subtle reminder of the stakes. "I shall let your brother explain, men," the Duchess said, her voice cold and commanding. Her gaze flicked to Florence, the barest hint of acknowledgment in her tone. "And girl," she added, finally recognizing her presence.