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

Twenty-nine* ˚ ✦

Was she really that low to him?

She was a fucking aristocrat everywhere else. Except in Tommy Shelby's devil eyes.

He let her stay up all night wondering what she had done so wrong for him to disregard her.

He made her doubt her fucking self.

All for hiding the fact that he shagged another woman? When Irene already knows that he probably have shagged half of Birmingham already.

"Irene, my darling, are you alright?" Ana approached the two. The rest of the girls following her.

She blinked, "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm splendid,"

"Superb even." She didn't need those looks. Those sympathetic looks.

The girls looked at each other. Knowing that Irene was far from being superb. They have only seen her like this twice or thrice during the span of their two-decade friendship. And all of them doesn't end with laughter.

From across the room, she could see her Papa and brother standing happily near Thomas Shelby. Completely unaware of what he had done to their sweet little girl. Probably talking about the next big business move or the next political arrangements.

This was all their fault.

So when a server approached, hands busy carrying drinks and amuse bouchées, The socialite snagged a glass when the blue-eyed gang leader lifted his whiskey,

"That's it. I'd like to raise a toast-"

She yawned loudly. Catching the attention of all those in the room, including the man raising his whiskey. Irene lifted her drink to match Tommy's before downing it. Setting it down loudly before winking her tear-filled eye.

"Irene-"

The girl passed Thomas on her way out the door, letting him savour her one more time before losing all this. Letting her flowing green dress truly glide around him before setting her eyes outside.

She didn't even bother looking at the looks of alarm on every person's face.

It was true. Tonight she wasn't the guest of honour.

She, in turn, was the guest of horror.

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It was freezing outside.

She probably made a mistake by going to the gardens instead of truly rid herself of this place. But something about watching the roses dance under the chilly wind brings a certain tranquillity to Irene's racing minds.

She rested her head on her knees, truly processing what she had done. Irene was not one to panic quite quickly, but the idea of her father and brother being mad at her truly made her rethink her rude yawning. She studied the green mulberry silk clinging on her body, noting how thin it was and how unsuitable it was for this wintry weather.

Singing native French songs seemed to be a fine idea to fill the silence.

The gardens were probably not the best place for hiding from your scrutinizing confidantes, but she truly was reluctant to move. She doesn't want to give Thomas Shelby the satisfaction of coming back so easily. The longer she took, the more desperate he would be—the more gullible.

Though she was not sure, a man like Thomas Shelby could be gullible.

Oh well.

Footsteps behind her made Irene stiffen. Not him, not him, not him.