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

Chapter Twenty-Five-Please Read A/N

A/N: Firstly, I am sorry that it took me two months to update. Awful, really. Thank you so much for you support and kind words. TW: Please beware this chapter contains disturbing themes involving Amelia. It contains dubcon, non con, and acts involving Amelia. It also dabbles into gaslighting and grooming. You have been warned. I do not condone these actions. It is purely a fictional plot device. 

"Who was that man?" Amelia asked when their taxi moved away from the overbearing crowds and noise. She looked behind her, fingers playing with the token that allowed her next day entry. Tommy sighed, snapping his fingers for her to sit properly and face forward. Sliding into a proper position, a lady-like position, Amelia asked again, "that man, what did he want? He knew my brother." She watched Tommy flip through yellow stained pages, smudged with aging ink and lead. Numbers and names, numbers and names. Some had x's and some had checks. The same feeling as before came back, her stomach twisting and turning. The book. The cat was out of the cradle, and Tommy hardly cared to hide it. "You know if they find out-"

"Are you mad, Amelia?" Tommy asked, a mere under the tongue whisper; dry and soft as his eyes stayed steady on the pages. He flipped through, finger holding down the spine. Tommy knew that Amelia had the truth about what he'd been doing, but she was an easy girl to rile. Easy to rise, but easy to give a little crumb to. He'll show her something, and it'd be just enough for her not to bring it up again for a while. "Do you see that name?" Bluebell. Amelia read it outloud. "Now," he whispered, turning his full attention to her, his hand cupping her cheek. "Does that look like a person's name, eh?" Amelia swallowed the lump down and shook her head. "It's a fuckin' horse-"

"But the other pages," she protested, trying to flick her finger under the page he was holding down. "You said that-"

"It's business," he stated, and closed the book, tucking it into his jacket. "Rich people like horses, rich people have money, rich people like to put their money in silly places." He traded the book for a cigarette and perched in on his lips, unlit. Slightly muffled, he continued, "forgive a Gypsy for making a little money, eh?" Like he expected, like the little girl she was underneath all the fiest, she backed down. "Alright?" She nodded and he rewarded her with a piece of chocolate in his pocket.

"I don't want it," she said.

Amused, the corner of his lip tugged into a smirk. Taking the smoke from his lips, he said, "foolish. All little girls like sweet things. Bought them from the little shop." Tommy undid the gold wrapper and out came a chocolate truffle. "Thought maybe you were sick of the English chocolates." With the cigarette perched between his index and middle, he presses the chocolate against her lips. "Thought maybe you wanted to try the French flavor, eh?" Amelia didn't take the chocolate, feeling it get soft against her lips. "Stubborn." To her surprise, he popped it into his mouth and licked the melted residue of his fingers. "Bloody fuckin' stubborn-"

Amelia sighed, her arms crossing over her chest. "I'm not after the French flavor, and because of you, no longer the British flavor...or should I say Gypsy? I don't know if they taste different."