＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛
𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙴𝙽 𝙼𝙲𝚁𝙰𝙴 - 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝙻𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
"𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆
𝒊'𝒎 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍
𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏, 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒏."
MERCEDES WAS BORN WITH A GOLDEN SPOON IN HER MOUTH, her family descended from a long line of aristocrats who had been wealthy for many generations. Not until her father's gambling addiction had cost them half their fortune, and the best solution is to marry her off to another wealthy family—specifically, the youngest son of Don Hernando Zacarias, a Spanish diplomat.
Despite her family's wealth, she never enjoyed nor liked the lavish lifestyle her parents provided for her—it was too much to bear. Alfie had sent her a black beautiful and sophisticated dress, and it was a branded one at that. It was the fourth dress he had d given her since she began working for him as his secretary, and she hated it every time. But, she would feel worse if she declined the goodwill of her friend.
A knock from her apartment's door snapped her out of trance, she draped her white fur shawl over her shoulder and rose up. As Mercy opened the door, she awkwardly cleared her throat and smiled at the man in front of her. Alfie stood in the doorway, looking fine in his black three-piece suit and his famous pork pie hat.
Alfie Solomons was taken aback, he stared at her for a few seconds—appreciating one of God's greatest creations. The Spanish mestiza took his breath away, he was suffocated with her beauty.
"Well, don't ya look exquisite?" Alfie finally came to his senses and smirked, stroking his beard as he looked her in the eyes. "I look exquisite e'rday, Alfie," joked Mercy, turning her back on him—her black curls dancing as she moves, and picked her handbag up that was laying on the settee.
She looked like someone who just stepped out of a painting, seeing her felt surreal for Alfie. How could someone such hold beauty like her? That night, she was indeed stunning, and he couldn't get his heart to stop pounding against his chest—as if it wanted to break free from its confinement.
"Right ya are," whispered the man, it was so low it didn't reach Mercy's ear. Alfie adjusted his hat and straightened his posture as he offered his right arm for her to cling onto. "Aren't we running late?" she asked, walking towards the car that was parked outside her flat.
The charity ball that was taking place at London Pavilion started hours ago, and they there were, taking their time. "Aye, but I don't give a shit or two," Alfie stated flatly before opening the car door for her. Mercy sneered at his frank response before climbing into Alfie's brand new Rolls-Royce. Camden Town's crisp night air embraced her entire being, making her shiver, but the thick fur warmed her body as their ride to Piccadilly Circus began.
"Why d'ya look tired?" he asked, glancing at Mercy. It had been a week since she returned from Small Heath and every time she'd show up for work, Alfie would notice her spacing out and agitated.
"Because I bloody am, Mr. Solomons," she weakly chuckled, resting her head on the seat before closing her eyes. The nightmare that began at Shelby's house never left her; it followed her wherever she went. It kept repeating, the same scenario where Marisol would throw up water, her eyes turning white to black, blaming Mercy for her death, and eventually killing her. That nightmare encircled her soul with their sinister fingers every night, dragging her deep into a world dominated by terror.
"What's botherin' ya?" the man asked once more, several lines forming on his forehead, clearly concerned for her. He took a quick glimpse at the woman beside him before fixing his eyes on the road ahead.
"Uh—nothing, I'm just tired," Mercy flashed him a forced smile, but it wasn't enough to convince the Jewish gangster. The woman didn't feel the need to tell him about her problems; it's not something he should be concerned about. Mercy was certain that Alfie was dealing with his own issues, and she didn't want to be a burden to him. Alfie had done more than enough for her.
Mercy would deal with it on her own.
"Cut ta bullshit, Mercedes, I know ya," Alfie raised his eyebrow at her before pulling the car over. As the vehicle halt on the side of the road, Mercy suddenly felt anxious. "Let's just go, Alfie," she whispered, feeling the waves of sickness crashed over her.
"Na," he shrugged, his face turning sour, "Yer tellin me right e're, right now."
"No," she answered and fiddled with her polished fingertips, lowering her head. She pressed her lips into a thin line, "Let's just go," Mercy repeated, almost begging him.
"What is it, Mercedes?" he snarled as he stared at her. He assumed they wouldn't get out of this damned car unless she told him what had happened. "Is it bout that gypsy bastard?" Alfie guessed, just thinking about that certain Shelby made him drive up the wall.
"No, Alfie, what the fuck?" Mercy shot her head up, upper lips raising. A loud and deep sigh escaped from her lips, "It's not about him, alright? It's a personal problem," she said, emphasizing the word personal. That made Alfie narrow his eyes, still suspicious of the woman.
The man clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Then what is it?" he irritatedly asked, he sure was bent on getting answers from her. Mercedes realized at that moment that he wouldn't take no for an answer, and there was no way she could get away from Alfie's never-ending questions.
Sighing once more, "Fine," she said before rolling her eyes, "But you better start driving or else the ball's going to end by the time we reach Park Square."
"Si, señorita," Alfie replied, a grin on his face as he finally got her to speak. Since the first time they met, Alfie had been aware of her troubles and burden. He could see the sliver of sorrow, guilt, and sadness in her eyes that she conceals so well behind her smiles, he was aware of the secrets she keeps to herself, and the flaws that made her even more magnificent.
Alfie Solomons was more than willing to take the burden off of her shoulders, even if meant adding weight to his own.
The Jewish gangster placed his arm around her tiny waist as they descended the stairs towards the great hall. As the doorman opened the entrance to the hall, they were welcomed by the jazz music playing throughout the big room. There were a lot of people swaying to the melodic, sweet voice of the woman singing on the stage.
"Fuck, there's so many people in here," Mercy muttered under her breath as she looked at the guests her eyes can reach. She felt suffocated just by looking at them, Mercy grabbed a cocktail of martini for her and Alfie as a server passed by them.
"D'ya wanna go home?" Alfie whispered in her left ear, she quickly shrugged and swallowed the entire content of martini, "I don't want this," she picked up the skewered olives, dropping it on Alfie's glass.
"To be fair, I don't want 'tis shit either. Shoulda brought a barrel of rum for us," replied Alfie, looking down at his drink. They choose an empty table near the balcony of the music hall, "You don't see anyone familiar?" Mercy asked as they watched the dancing crowd.
"I do, I just don't wanna speak with 'em," he replied dryly before downing the stomach-churning drink. One of the reasons he disliked attending charity balls, if not for the woman sitting next to him, was that these high society events only served wine, martinis, or champagne. His mouth and stomach only accept a drink that goes by the name white rum.
Alfie looked at her, "I'll get somethin' for ya to eat," before she could even nod, Alfie already blended in the crowd. Mercy wanted to slouch but it would make her unladylike, she raised her hand as a server passed by the table.
The man smiled at her, "By any chance, do you serve gin?" Mercy asked, scratching the back of her nape. She cannot stand the taste of martini, her tongue was longing for the bittersweet flavor of the drink.
"Well, I think I can manage to sneak you some, are you willing to wait?" the server asked, a big smile still plastered on his lips. He has a pair of deep-set eyes that made him attractive, but somehow, his smiles sent chills that crept up her spine, raising the hair on the back of her neck.
"I can wait for hundred years for a gin on the rocks," she laughed at him, ignoring the feelings in her bone. "Very well," he nodded at her before leaving Mercy's presence alone. As she watched him disappear into the crowd, she had noticed his left leg limping.
He looked like someone I know, have I seen him somewhere? she asked herself, tilting her head a little bit. A few minutes later, Alfie came back holding a plate in his hand but the server never returned. The number of guests dwindle as hours passed by, the two of them hadn't left the table for they were not interested in dancing. A businessman named Benjamin Kahn approached Alfie to talk but their conversation was not that engrossing for her. She excused herself and made her way to the balcony.
She took a cigar and a matchbox from her handbag, the same ones Thomas had used during their celebration at The Garrison. Mercy inhaled deeply after lighting the cigar, the smoke crawling into her lungs. She stood there watching the nearly empty streets of Piccadilly Circus and people returning from work.
"Ya okay, love?" she jumped in surprise as someone spoke behind her, "Hey, you done talking to Mr. Kahn?" Mercy asked without turning her head towards Alfie. He leaned against the railings next to her, his gaze falling on the raven-haired lady.
He nodded at her, Mercy passed him the cigar which he gladly accepted. She laughed in amusement when her lipstick from the cigar stained his lips, "What?" he asked as he blew the smoke away.
Mercy brought her thumb close to his lips, gently wiping the red lipstick. Alfie froze in his spot because of the sudden touch, not even once had he ever eaten a butterfly but why does it felt like his stomach was full of it?
Alfie met her bewitching gunmetal eyes, his hand trembling as he caressed her cheeks. He lowered his head and his warm lips touched hers before she realized it. Her eyes lit up and her knees stiffened—as difficult as it was to admit, the kiss had been comforting to her. Alfie took a step back, mouth hanging open as if someone had knocked sense into him.
He turned on his heel and walked away, "Alfie!" she called, but he never looked back.
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a/n: i know some of yall been waiting for this ( ๑>ᴗ<๑ ) thanks for the 4k reads !!!!