𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ♛ thomas shelby

xᴠɪɪɪ | ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss ᴀs ᴜsᴜᴀʟ

How dare he come sauntering in, demanding a favour and proceed to insult her? The nerve of that insufferable man!

"It's a revealing blouse." His eyes sauntered briefly downwards and onto her cleavage covered by a pale blue button up blouse that perfectly cupped her curves.

Her cheeks blossomed red, some of anger some of embarrassment.

Thomas pushed himself from where he leaned and strode upstairs, sensing the fury he would soon be a victim of. It took her a moment to compose her baring only to bolt after him, brandishing the unfortunate wad of money.

"Oi! Thomas Shelby you utter bastard-" A colourful string of Italian curses followed, sound of feet running up the wooden staircase and several doors slamming.

Now left alone in the quaint kitchen as the clock struck late afternoon, Polly Gray placed another sugar cube in her tea, satisfied.

Children.

*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*

Tommy's Bentley roared over the country roads, breaking the tranquility of hills and plains surrounding Bromsgrove and Wychbold, Rashwood and Droitwich. Winter had already melted into spring, the greenery of English countryside turning vibrantly lush, dotted with fragile white and yellow buds, their heads peaking innocently out of the grass.

Stretching her legs from the long drive, she took a moment to admire the fuss and excitement sparking at every corner of racetrack. Well dressed gentlemen and ladies in their intricate headdresses exited their vehicles manned by immaculately dressed chauffeurs.

But while the posh guests entered by the main, grand entrance, most of them following into owners boxes for the best possible view of their property, the common folk that could afford a spot on the stands or over by the fence crowded at the two smaller entrances.

"It's been too fuckin' long." Caterina sighed, fixing her wide brimmed hat in the Bentleys wing mirror. Thomas offered his hand to her in a manner of a well-bread gentleman, the two making way across the gravel covered parking lot.

He certainly looked the part of an elegant businessman, in his sharp new suit and a shiny silver chain of the pocket watch glinting in the sun. The only remainder of Small Heath was his flat cap, the sliver glint of a blade bringing him a familiar comfort.

All around the track, every corner was littered with bookies shouting out today's odds, attracting all sorts of men and women, young and old, willing to take their chance for some luck and a couple of pounds.

  The Shelby Company's pitches dominated among the other lesser ones, the lines of people shouldering each other to place their bets.

  They were stopped at the entrance by a portly but pleasant man who was obviously acquainted with Thomas. "Mister Shelby, an honour to have you here! Please, please follow me to the owners box."

His newest horse, Major , was set to have a debut here at Worcester and both Tommy and Cat were eager to see the lovely horse Curly had trained for the past few months in action.

The man then turned to Cat, kissing her hand, and then throwing a suggestive wink in Tommy's direction. "Oh my what a beauty you have here! And what is your name sweetheart?"

"He most certainly doesn't have me. Caterina Cardinale." She placed her hand forward for a firm handshake, revelling in the way colour drained from the man's face. Even after everything, the Clarke name opened every door and made every Englishman's heart race a bit stronger.