Grayson • Peaky Blinders

• Ten •

"Please Cora! You have to bloody come. For fucks sake, you're the reason we made so much money," John begged the unresponsive blonde who marched her any through her flat. One of the Shelby horses, that Cora had managed to get many men to bet on with her stories, had lost and though it was exactly a celebratory moment for the betters, the Peaky Blinders were celebrating at the Garrison and John desperately wanted Cora would come have a drink.

Since the interrogation from Polly and a silent Thomas, she hadn't spoken to either. She still spoke to John and looked after his wee hooligans when he needed her to; she still spoke to Arthur and had taken up dressing his wounds when he got into a fight, and she still taught young Finn, except, she now taught him at her flat or at John's place.

"John, I've told you twice. I'm meeting someone tonight," she reminded him as she sat in front of a deluxe luxury vanity that definitely did not match the standards of the apartment, and was littered with various expensive lotions, powders and perfumes.

"Please, just for an hour or two. Fix this shit with Pol and Tom," he implored, standing in the doorway.

Cora sighed. John was putting up a good fight and the guilt of rejection was getting to her. He'd promised to buy her drinks and was eager to repay her for all her help with the kids.

She got up from the stool she was sitting on and picked up thin beige coat. "Let me just rearrange a few things."

Less than an hour later, Cora Grayson was sitting in the Garrison making conversation with Jeremiah, Charlie and Curly with a large glass of red wine.

The conversation was light-hearted and... enjoyable. Cora had forgotten about her problems until she looked over to the door and saw Tommy enter and meet her gaze.

Ignore him, She thought, nothing has to happen if you ignore him.

"Charlie, Jeremiah, Curly," he greeted, clapping Curlyon the shoulder, "can I steal Miss Grayson?"

"Or you you could do me a favour and save me?" she proposed irritably.

"Don't worry, boys. You won't be missing much," a rather tipsy Arthur stumbled over to the group. Cora masking her unimpressed reaction with an expression of playful exaggerated shock. The men all had a smug smirk at the state Arthur had managed to get himself into in the past hour.

"Miss Cora is very pretty, Tommy," Curly happily disclosed to Tommy who openly agreed. "That she is, Curly. That she is."

"Thank you, Curly," Cora thanked as she walked past him and Tommy, who followed, to the far end of the bar where it was quiet.

"What?"

The happy graceful tone that held in her voice moments ago was gone and replaced with a tone of irritation and annoyance.

"We need to talk about what happened," he proposed as he leant against the bar top with a large glass of scotch whisky in his left hand.

"Listen," Cora began hesitantly, "I'm willing to move for this situation if we can make a pact to never mention that article again."

Tommy's face remain emotionless as he saw and heard the sincerity in her voice and eyes. He had a decision to make: insist on knowing more and possibly lose his connection to London or trust in Cora and have a relationship that, though he wasn't ready to admit it to anyone or himself, he treasured.

"What article?"

Decision made: heart won against head. A decision that lead to an hour of bliss and... joy between the reserved Brummie and the high-society Londoner. The two were constantly in conversation with either each other, a large group or with other people but were always close enough to hear each other's conversation.

The night was beginning to run away and Cora found herself watching the clock as she realised that her friend. She has been having a conversation with Ada when both noticed their glasses were empty. It was at the bar when Cora met the one and only-

"So you're Cora Grayson," the person spoke judgemental as they looked her up and down.

"I've heard stories about you," she replied bitterly, turning to look them directly in their eyes, "Lizzie, right? Lizzie Stark. The notorious whore."

"Cora Grayson. The virgin harlot." Blue pierced blue. Each glared at other. Cora heard rumours around Small Heath of Lizzie's reputation, and had heard stories from Ada as well. "I know what you're doing. I know your reputation is a lie," Lizzie instigated, her body language giving off a sense of false confidence.

"What?" Cora asked confused.

"I know you're fucking Tommy," Lizzie justified, "You should know you're not his only one. He comes sees me weekly. You're nothing special."

Cora scoff in disbelief. The fucking audacity. In one swift movement, she grabbed Lizzie by the material below the neckline of her blouse and pulled her close, her eyes still glaring daggers into the prostitutes. "Listen here, you bitch. I'm not sleeping with Tommy. Unlike you, I was raised with standards and morals. I  don't care if you have sex with Tommy because that's all you are to him: sex. And I also know you're stringing John along so don't grace me with your bloody presence and accuse me of being a filthy whore when you look in the mirror trying to cover your diminishing qualities," Cora spoke lowly before whispering, "Now, fuck off."

And with a harsh gentle push, Lizzie Stark scrambled off to go bitch to someone about her opinions of the blonde London-born Brit.

Returning to the table and handing Ada her drink with a brief 'I'll see you later', Cora manoeuvred her way through the crowd of swaying joyous drunkards, while trying to pull her coat over her shoulders, to get to the door. As she took a stepped out of the pub a rough hand wrapped its way around her smooth wrist.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?" Tommy questioned dryly.

"Out."

"Alone?

"I'm not alone, Tommy," Cora said moving out of the way to indicate to a modestly dressed brunette standing across from the Garrison, "I'm going out with my friend from London."

"Two beautiful ladies shouldn't go out alone in the night," Tommy insisted, making a clear point as the sky was pitch black and there were numerous shady figures lingering in the alleys of Birmingham.

Cora smirked. She leaned in close to Tommy and whispered in his left ear. "I don't need your protection, Thomas Shelby."

Tommy stood and watched as the blonde sauntered over to her mysterious companion, oblivious to the sound of the door opening behind him. His focus solely on the glamorous London lady walking away from him.

"You love that girl," she proclaimed with an amused bluntness.

"' bit early to jump to conclusions. Ey, Pol?" He muttered, turning to face her while lighting a cigarette.

"I don't need to be your Aunt to recognise that look in your eyes," she claimed. "Go with your heart instead of your cock for once. You might find you enjoy it," she finished before disappearing back into the pub, leaving Tommy standing outside alone. Turning his head to smile in the direction Cora wandered off in before retreating back into the building.