Blue-Eyed Devil | T. Shelby Imagines

➥ Drowning in Work

Word Count: 1,463
Warnings: Cursing, yelling
SUMMARY: Thomas trusts you more than the other secretaries, but when you bring up a suspicious expense report that points to his brother, he won't listen to you. Things get a bit out of hand.

⎯⎯

You sighed loudly, everything was irritating you right now. Tommy's been throwing paperwork at you all week. Barely keeping up with it, you were almost drowning in work. With the success of Shelby Company Limited, came consequences for you and the other secretaries. The paper in front of you was blurry, you rubbed your eyes in an attempt to remedy both your headache and your blurry eyesight.

"Here." Another stack of papers is sat on the corner of your desk, Lizzie Starke stands in front of you. "Tom said he wants them done by tonight." You scoff loudly and Lizzie seems to laugh with you. Although you and she weren't close, you two found yourselves often laughing at Thomas Shelby. It was nice to have someone to laugh with sometimes.

"Tell him that he's dreaming." She can hear the irritation in your voice. Your jaw is tense, back is stiff as you set down the paper in your hands. The itch to smoke a cigarette is making its way into your mind...

Lizzie nods, "I'll do that." She has a smirk on her pale pink lips and you shake your head. "Are you alright, Y/N?"

Another scoff, "He's driving me crazy." It was true, you were one of the newer secretaries, but it seemed that Tom trusted you with the most work. You could handle more since you knew how to read, write, type, and do math without writing it down. When you first started, it was easier to complete the large amount of work Mr. Shelby gave you. But as time has gone on, you've gotten more and more exhausted with it all.

You've only seen Mr. Shelby once or twice and each time he'd insist that you're the only one who could handle such a workload. With your experience and all. But what confused you was why he trusted you so much. He's never given Lizzie as much work as you. And you've been handling money, bills, etc. Very sensitive Shelby information has been in your hands without a thought.

When you were hired, all of the women warned you about how little Thomas trusts them. In fact how little the entire family trusted outsiders. The fact that the boss seemed to trust you made the other women take a disliking to you, it wasn't your fault you could type the fastest and do math the most accurately. Of course, you were grateful for your intellect but the fact that the other women disliked you for it... annoyed you.

Especially when they'd mumble about you being a "Little city girl". It hurt more than you'd like to admit but whenever they would look you up and down before scoffing or rolling their eyes. There was a burn in your chest. So more often than not, you'd cover it up with anger by setting your jaw and raising your chin. Your mother taught you that you're as bad as them if you stoop down to their level. You knew that it was obvious you were from London, from your accent to your nicer clothing.

Through your effort to fit in, you dressed like the women you worked with. If your mother ever saw you now, she'd probably die. When you were first hired, Lizzie warned you about how bad the men are in this city. You took her word for it and almost copied her style. This didn't deter the glares from Charlotte and Emily didn't appreciate your efforts, in fact, it seemed to annoy them even more.

"It'll be alright. I'll ask if you can take that shit home."

"Thanks, Lizzie." She gave you a nod as you looked back down at the expense report in front of you. There were some oddities in the past month's report, the olives seemed to be a bit expensive for what they are. Plus... you've visited The Garrison and the club in London... you hadn't seen any martinis or olives being served at either location.

Thomas' voice spoke in your head: "If there's anything suspicious, bring it right to me. I don't care if it's just a hunch, eh?"

This was more than a hunch, £600 on olives and fucking onions is outrageous. Something is going on and there was quite possibly someone stealing money from the company. You push your chair back abruptly and take the report with you to Mr. Shelby's office. Knocking once on the door a low 'come in' gives you the right to enter, when you do it looks like Thomas threw a tantrum. What happened here? You wondered and you walked over to his desk.

"I found something interesting, Mr. Shelby." He takes the sheet of paper from you. Thomas coughs into his hand before gazing down at the paper.

Thomas says nothing before setting it down, he gives you a questioning look. "Well? What's interesting about an expense report?" Your eyebrows scrunch, how could he not spot the large number besides something like olives?

Instead of answering straight away, you lean on the desk and point with your finger, "The olives and onions, £600... that's an awful lot don't you think?" You can tell when he notices it, when it clicks in his brain as he nods a bit.

"Yea, a fuckin' lot. Where's this bein' spent?"

Looking quickly at the top of the sheet where it reads 'LONDON'. "The London club, sir." You would call Thomas by his first name if you knew him better... or saw him more than once a month on a one-on-one basis. Crossing your arms over your chest you take a deep breath, "Arthur is in charge of the final expenses there–" You haven't even had a chance to tell him your thoughts before he's cut you off.

"Are you trying to accuse my brother of stealing from me?"

"No! Of course not, I'd never blatantly accuse someone without evidence. What I'm saying is, that it looks extremely suspicious. Don't ya think?"

You had gotten Thomas, it did sound like something Arthur would do. Dumb bastard and not understanding math. He takes a deep breath, "Could you get proof?"

Scoffing loudly at Thomas you shake your head no, "How would I get fuckin' proof? Run up behind em' and see if he's hoarding olives and onions?" Although you're joking Mr. Shelby doesn't laugh. Not that he even smiles on any occasion.

"Then you are blatantly accusing my broth–"

"No, I am not! You're trying to make me trip up, I'm not an idiot Mr. Shelby. You know this, isn't that why you hired me in the first place–"

"Without proof like you said–"

"There's proof in the fuckin' paper!"

Thomas stood up abruptly and you knew you were done for. Either he was going to strike you or you were going to be fired. Being hit sounded a lot better than losing your one source of income. "Don't fucking raise your voice at me." He sounded calm but terrifyingly angry but the tone of his voice caused you to reach an all-time high.

You just raised your chin before shoving your finger toward him, "Don't you dare do that again!" It wasn't him telling you what to do, but rather the tone. The tone a father uses with a temperamental child or a sexist uses on his meek wife. And you were neither a child nor some housewife. You refused to be treated as such.

He stayed still, his baby blue eyes staring not at you... but strangely into your mind. It was almost as if you could feel him sifting through your thoughts. You moved you y/e/c eyes to the table, at the sheet that started it all before speaking again, "If it were anybody it would have been him, I'm just saying–"

"For fuck's sake, stop!" Your eyes widened as he shouted at you. You've heard him yell at others before. But never has his rage been directed at you, it felt like you were a child again oddly enough. Like you were standing in front of your mother with the broken china in front of you, staring at the floor, absolutely ashamed of yourself.

Nodding slowly you turned away from him, but not before grabbing the sheet. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Shelby." You felt like you wanted to cry. Not for the sake of sadness, but how angry you were for reacting in such a juvenile way to being yelled at. It felt like you were scolded for some stupid childish mistake and you hated it so much. You left his office, your face red and jaw shaking. When you sat down at your desk you held your face in your hands for a few moments, allowing yourself to calm down.