Yellow Roses // Thomas Shelby

Chapter Eight

"Hey dad, do you want to know what Nat did last night?" My brother asked as I was just about to leave the house. Thomas had gotten up in the middle of the night and left, throwing a blanket over me and hoping he didn't run into my father on his way out.

"Oh yeah, what'd she do?" My father asked my brother as.m he set down his suitcases, along with Doc who was alreading going up to his room. I glared at Frankie.

"She had that gypsy over. The Shelby." He said.

"Frankie had two girls up in his bedroom. They fucked all night. Might want to take him to the doctor to check for STD." I walked out the door, slamming it.

I hate my brother.

He didn't have to fucking say anything. He could have gone about his day, not even caring about what happened last night. It's not like Thomas and I fucked. We just talked. And he cried.

My father obviously followed me out of the house and to the studio at this hour of morning. It was 4:55 when I left. It was nearing the time I had to be at the studio. He couldn't do anything about me.

"Natalia Vallorie Vallelonga, you come here right fucking now!" My father yelled from about twenty feet behind me. I turned around with a smile, pointing to my watch.

"I'm going to be late. Don't expect me for dinner." I told him while walking backwards. I practically felt his feet booming towards me, grabbing my shoulder and pressing me against the brick beside me. I struggled against him as his grip went from my shoulder to my neck.

"You brought that fucking Gypsy bastard into my fucking house?!" He yelled, probably waking the entire fucking neibhorhood. My fingers clasped his wrist, attempting to move it back. He only tightened his grip.

"Dad-" I choked out, trying to pry his fingers off my neck. The look on his face was unforgettable. The vein on his forehead was sticking out on the red surface. He was fuming with rage. I could feel it in the slightest touch.

"If i catch you with those fucking gypsies again, I'll fucking kill them, then I beat the shit out of you." His grip loosened. "Do you fucking understand, girl? Do you hear the words that are coming' out of my mouth?" He yelled in my face.

I attempted to respond, but my father getting ripped from my face gave me the chance to get my breath instead. I heard a door open and bang against the brick, the footsteps running after me.

I wanted to cry as I felt my neck pulsating against my hand. It felt so unbelievably bad, not even ice would take the pain away. It's like his handprint was engraved onto my throat with a knife.

"Don't you ever lay hands on her again. By order of the Peaky Blinders you fucking bitch." I heard Arthur tell my father, then kick my fathers face a second time.

"Natalia, neck," Ivanov must've been the second person to come out the doors. He pried my hand away from my neck, sucked his breath in sharply as he got a view of it. Arthur came to stand beside me, looking too.

"Who was that? I hope that wasn't one of the men you're planning to go out with." Arthur asked me. I shook my head, letting a few faint tears leave me eyes.

"My father," my voice came out raspy and breathy, like my vocal cords weren't working how they were supposed to.

"Do not come to studio today. Go to doctor." Ivanov stepped back from me, getting a look at my body.

"I don't have to go to a doctor." I retorted, swallowing to I could talk clearer.

"I think you should listen to him, Natalia. That looks bloody awful." Arthur told me. I rolled my eyes, looking at the two of them. "Do you want me to get Tommy?"