THE FRENCH KISSERS ― Thomas Shelby

27. bête noire

He darted a drunken hand to Arwen, who offered him a salacious smirk. But before his fingers could touch her, a grip of steel circled around his wrist, and Nicolas came in between, tone more fatal than a name-carved bullet.

"I came here in good faith. But I must advise you. Any of you gentlemen lay a hand on the ladies, it will be the last time you have one."

Some guests around them swooned. Arwen rolled her eyes. "I appreciate the sentiment, Nicolas, but I can take care of myself. Besides, I kinda like this one. I think I'll keep him for tonight, have some much needed fun. You want to see heaven, you say?" With a ballerina's grace, or the prowess of a lioness, Arwen tiptoed towards him. She was beaming as she locked arms with Arthur, who had the most stupid, foolish grin Rose had ever seen plastered on his face. "Oh, but hell is so much more fun, darlin'. Come on, I'll show ya!"

Just like that they were gone, but instantly John Shelby appeared in front of them, seemingly drawn towards them by Kaya's disgusted face.

"I can't believe Arwen would surrender herself like that. To a Shelby, of all men!" Kaya shook her head, dark curls framing her face, lips pressed into a displeased line.

"What's wrong with Shelbys? We don't bite, we just nibble," Johnny said, a lopsided smile on his lips as he took a wobbly step towards her. "Apart from Thomas, who is a controlling dickhead who acts like he's dead already, all of us love to have a good time. We love women, especially women who are easy on the eyes. Like you, love."

Kara's disgusted face turned to pure outrage.

"I'm easy on the eyes? Sweetheart, that's the only place I'm easy."

Johnny's smile grew bigger; Kaya's fiery demeanor tended to have that effect on men. "Oh, I like ya—"

"Do you now?" A shadow loomed over him, and a second later Alfie Solomons was rounding him, hitting him on the shin with his cane. It could have passed as an unfortunate accident, had he not done it repeatedly, with strong intention. Rose suppressed a smile. "Do you really, really like her?"

He came to stand beside Kaya, both hands tangled over the handle of his cane. In front of him, Johnny whimpered and clutched his poor leg.

"No, I don't think you like Kaya like I do. Scatter away, boy." Alfie shooed at him dismissively, as if scaring a pigeon away. Kaya had her brows furrowed, but the subtle quirk of her lips betrayed her. "Go find Charlie, eh, and play with his toys. Kaya deserves nothing less than a man."

For a second Johnny clenched his fists, craving a brawl. Then he shrugged, gobbled down another drink, and stumbled away. But now people were staring at them, staring at Kaya, in a way that made Rose's skin crawl. She moved aside to shield her from the glares, but Kaya had already noticed, always hyper aware of her surroundings.

"Why is everyone staring at us? Have they never seen a black woman in a pretty dress, being desired by two men in some fancy party?"

Rose's shoulders slumped. This was one of the many reasons why she hated high society, why, despite navigating through it, she'd never truly fit in. Not while they didn't accept everyone as equal, not while they kept their judging faces on.

"One as lovely as you?" Alfie gently took her hand, brought it to his mouth. The soft brush of his lips on her skin was enough to paint her cheeks a warm shade of pink. "Oh, I assure you they have not."

Kaya's gaze narrowed, piercing but with no real intention of cutting. "Compliments won't make me sleep with you, Alfie Solomons."

"Should I switch to insults, then?"

"They might work better, yes. Use your wits." Kaya's frown broke into a grin, and then Alfie whispered something into her ear that made her giggle, and blush even more, and they were being swept away by the crowd, falling into a world of their own.