𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔, thomas shelby

eleventh shot.

(eleventh shot)

11 | in which something is born and something dies.

Rebecca lent her proper clothes, Bella was shivering as she dressed, the earlier attack still hovering in her mind, the sound of gunfire and the smell of blood. To her surprise on leaving Rebecca's house, Johnny Dogs was there with a car and a smile, Bella couldn't get frustrated because she was in too much pain for that.

The trip to London was silent, Bella was unwilling to speak and Rebecca — who accompanied her — understood perfectly, she had killed again, she knew it was necessary, but her subconscious didn't understand that.

Taking a life was not simple even for someone who was used to it.

The wedding was happy, Italian weddings usually were, Bella kept a smile on her lips all the time because she didn't want anything to ruin Magdalena's happy moment, there was a lot of music and food, but Bella didn't eat or dance, she got a fake smile sitting at the table sipping a few sips of whiskey.

A tall man approached her desk, Bella's face didn't change and she closed the smile on her lips.

She thought she'd seen that face before, but maybe it was just the alcohol working in her head.

"Isabella Andriessen?" She lifted her chin, staring at him.

"Oh." She exclaimed, settling in her chair. "What a surprise. You know my name."

"Sorry about my manner," he took off his hat. "My name is Francesco Sabini."

Bella watched him try to look seductive, gave a mocking smile. Not a good day to deal with vain men.

"That doesn't explain how you know my name." She drank the whiskey, looking away from the hall where the bride and groom danced.

"I don't think there's anyone who doesn't know the woman who killed Victor." Bella remained impassive at his words.

"You also know I had reasons."

"I know. You wouldn't have been forgiven by that family if they didn't know." He pulled up the chair and sat down. The young woman assessed him warily.

"You talk like it's not your family either." Bella commented in a delicate voice that she always used when men needed to be convinced. "I don't participate in my family business, at least not those that involve hard work."

Francesco smiled.

"Good for you." Bella raised her glass.

"Vicenzo told me about you."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Good things, I hope."

"Anything that can be considered bad about you is just a point of view, Miss Andriessen." He leaned against the table and leaned a little closer. "I heard about the theater and the small factory you run in Birmingham." Bella stared at the man seriously.

"I like clarity, Mr. Sabini. If there's anything you want to talk about, say it."

Francesco wet his lips.

"I want to do business." He started. "I will open my own nightclub, and I need people who can handle information."

"Be more specific, Mr. Sabini." She asked in a soft voice.

Francesco cleared his throat.

"That's why I propose a deal."

"I'm listening."