e l i t e s / T. Shelby / The Brat Pack

twenty * ˚ ✦

He moved to take off his coat with such grace and finesse you never knew a crime boss would possess. In the spirit of being gracious today, Irene asked something only closest to her would get. "Where were you, boss?"

Mr Shelby's movements halted mid-air; he blinked as his head cocked backwards in surprise, "Nowhere any of your business."

Irene did not expect the answer would be cutting, nor did she not expect her feelings to get hurt so much. Alas, she tried to veil it by smiling brightly. Ear-to-ear kind of smile, "Well, I'll go home then."

"No."

This time, it was the heiress' turn to cock her head back in shock, "Excuse me?"

"You've got lots of work you haven't done, right?" Mr Shelby calmly quipped while taking a cigarette out of his pocket. Irene hurriedly grabbed the lighter on his desk and blazed up the slow killing machine in between his lips. She was too close now not to smell the scent of aftershave and burnt whiskey. It did not help when her eyes drifted from his cerulean eyes then down to those pillows of lips.

Her family and friends would be weirded out by her state at the moment, as she fumbles with the lighter and awkwardly sets it atop Thomas' desk. Irene, the ever so confident and cold heiress, is feeling hot all over. "I – uh, I finished all my work today."

"The labour union case?"

"Done."

"The investment thing with Alfie?"

"Concluded, sent the file back with my sister."

"John's new files?"

"Ready and on your desk."

"What about the asset acquirement from Lucky Luciano?"

"I have contacted him through your number, and he asks to speak only to you, Th – I mean, Mr Shelby."

"Huh." The patriarch sat down on his leather chair and leaned back. If her eyes are not mistaking her, Irene saw a glint of proudness on Thomas Shelby's consistently stony face. She tapped her fingers mindlessly as the silence in the room fills in. Waiting for her boss' instructions. Now that was a sentence she'd never expected to hear.

Gosh, say something already.

Irene's sepia orbs lifted slowly. Painfully dragging from the bottom of Mr Shelby's fancy Italian shoes to his unbuttoned shirt to the oddly chopped hair. Her eyes seemed to take their time on the soft chest hairs peeking out of his shirt. The coiling muscles underneath it as he lifted his arm to pluck the cigarette from in between his lips also did not go unnoticed. The apples of Irene's cheeks went red when she snapped her head toward the fireplace.

"Sit with me." Was the sentence she heard before her panicked face whips back to Mr Shelby. Oh. My. Sweet. Lord. Up. In. Heaven.

Thomas didn't seem to be goofing at all. His cigarette lit up as he sunk his cheek in to inhale it. Once again, Irene was enamoured by the sheer beautifulness of Thomas Shelby. She didn't blink for thirty seconds before realising she was probably a moment away from fainting due to her body's rapidly increasing temperature.

"Sit," Thomas ordered by simply motioning to her usual seat in front of him. Irene nodded gingerly as she contemplated why she was very compliant to her boss's words these days. The heiress happily asked before sitting down, "Do you want me to make you some tea, Mr Shelby?"

Irene did not know what came over her to offer her heathen boss some tea, but the corners of Mr Shelby's lips seemed to lift up slightly. Indicating the crime lord was somewhat amused. What's with this man? Has he never been offered tea?