Throat dry, red lips slightly agape - Verity waited anxiously as the phone called through to her home residence.
"Dr Grant's Psycholog-"
"Nina." Verity interrupted her sister's formal automatic office greeting.
"Oh - Verity!" Nina's happy voice chimed. "Is everything okay?"
Verity hesitated, her tongue dancing slowly over her lower lip whilst her brain fumbled for an answer.
"I'm fine." Verity started in a concise tone, clearing her throat gently as she looked around herself - feeling rather intimidated as she stood alone in Tommy's office, surrounded by towering bookcases and a roaring hearth.
"Something's come up, I'm afraid." Verity equivocated, taking a deep breath as she tired to keep this as short and sweet as possible. "I'll be back as soon as I can tomorrow."
After exchanging a rather confused acknowledgement and a gentle farewell, Nina finally called off the line and Verity placed the phone back into it's holder - her breath shaky as she exhaled slowly.
Dwelling in the solitary confines of the office, Verity shook her head, her long brunette hair falling into her face. She now questioned why the hell she had thought for a second she could let herself get away with sleeping with one of her clients. It was absurd. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the moment - knowing she had a secret lure to his mysterious ways - and after her car had been robbed of its fuel, she had no choice. Maybe it was the lack of control that gave her that small heady rush.
However, in the greyed, dull, fading sunlight that poured into Tommy's office through the large windows - Verity knew there was no way she could let Tommy have what he wanted. He already knew he had her wrapped around his finger to a certain extent - the fact she'd come all this way after his demand, with futile challenging. Verity knew she had to stand her ground, for if she gave him what he wanted then he would be able to fully manipulate her, and that was not something she needed him to feel capable of doing.
The office door then opened, the sudden movement causing her to jump. Verity quickly smoothed down her skirt and stepped away from the phone, her heels clicking slowly off the hard wood floor as she walked around to the plush leather seating at the front of the desk.
Tommy was on his way back in, an unreadable expression on his face as usual - whisky in one hand, and a glass of something clear in the other. Verity could only assume it was gin.
"Spoken to her?" Was all he asked, knowing Verity had wanted to call her sister, he then handed over the glass, standing close enough that she could smell the scent of tobacco around him and the deep muskiness of his cologne.
Verity nodded softly, her dainty hand cautiously snaked out, long fingers wrapping around the pretty crystallised glass.
Her hazel eyes flitted upwards as she took a sip of the drink, and instantly the potent alcohol content booted her like a shire horse kicking out. The gin was strong, burning a hot trail down the back of her throat as Verity forced it down - deciding she perhaps needed to have her discussion with Tommy before she drank anymore.
Reaching just behind her, the psychologist set the drink down carefully and turned to address the looming problem in front of her. Her increasingly complex and manipulative client. He was far too good at somehow making Verity his personal puppet - and she knew she had to attempt to put a stop to it before she fell in too deep.
"I wanted to tell you, Thomas," Verity started, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs as she looked up at him with an assertive gaze in her hazel eyes.
"I won't be sleeping with you - and nor do I intend to." She guarded herself, looking up at him through long, darkened lashes. The business tyrant said nothing.
"See - I'm here to help your mental well being." She started, deciding that showing him she wasn't all a soft touch would be the best way to assert herself.
"Not to ensure the functioning of your cock." She added bluntly, picking her glass from the desk and taking a very small sip, her system adjusting to the high alcohol content. If she didn't know better, this glass was 99% gin and perhaps a dribble of tonic.
Tommy's stony silence did nothing for her, and just further stoked her fires of frustration and curiosity alike. The man stood there akin to a statue, clutching his whisky in one hand and a smoking cigarette in the other.
"What was this about anyway?" She started trying to analyse him, past the vast expanse of emotionless blue that sat at the forefront of his eyes in that current moment. "Was your proposition a cry out for some long lost intimacy?"
The blinder simply lifted his whisky to his lips in a manner that taunted Verity to keep trying.
"No..." Verity concluded with a sigh, "if you wanted that you could have invited any old whore around for a quick shag." She identified bluntly, pretty pink nails tapping off the side of her glass rhythmically as she pursed her red lips together, musing to herself.
"It's more sensitive than intimacy, I can see it." the psychologist smirked, "Stone-cold Tommy Shelby sought some company on the side of his carnal desires." She whispered, acting rather smug as she sipped her drink.
It was becoming far too apparent to Verity that trying to help Tommy by being nice and soft like a little lamb was getting her nowhere. He deserved a coarse approach, gritty and direct. He wasn't a man to dance around the point whilst gushing over feelings.
A silence fell over the office before Tommy eventually exhaled, raising his brows in a sarcastic manner.
"Well I'd congratulate you, love." He started, voice muffled from behind his glass for a moment as he took a sip of the warming amber liquid.
"But you'd have to get down off your high horse first before I did anything like that."
Laughing shortly, Verity cocked her head, her silky, shiny hair tumbling down her bust.
"Whatever do you mean?"
Tommy stared her out, his icy blue eyes piercing into her gaze with no hesitation.
"You sit there, denying me when you're only really denying yourself." He remarked, his tones collected and matter of fact.
The peaky blinder set his drink down on the desk and sat in the leather chair opposite her, his expression totally blank.
"You might have the bloody degree, love." He started, shaking his head as the smallest of smirks tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But I ain't stupid. And I can see a part of you, beneath that poxy formality - wants this."
It was Verity's turn to be silent, as she listened to his intense words and sat there with her hands pressed together.
"You followed me in here like a bitch in heat."
She scoffed, cocking her head to the side.
"You mean after you emptied my car of it's petrol?" She said with a venomous snarkiness, a bitterness sweeping across her glance for a moment. She wasn't having the bullshit anymore about it being 'gypsies' - it had to be him.
"You gave me little choice." Verity bit back.
"I helped in trying to make your options clearer." He replied, framing himself - not that he seemed to care much though. His cocksure nature instantly infuriating her that she just wanted to grab him and shut him up.
The two were locked in a stare, like two dogs about to gnarl each other to death - before Francis appeared in the study, a meek look about her features.
"Sorry to interrupt. Dinner is ready." She said, slipping back out of the door not a moment later.
And so, as if nothing had happened - Tommy rose from his seat and crushed his cigarette down in the ash tray, grabbing his drink from the edge of his desk in a swift manner.
"We'll continue this little chat after dinner if you like." He said, standing at the office door and holding it open, seeing her stood still on the spot, at the other end of the office.
Tommy rolled his eyes at her. "Don't be so fucking proud that you'll turn down a meal."
God, the urges and questions fighting in her brain were scrambling the usually collected Verity. She grabbed her glass with a little bit too much vigour as the contents sloshed over the sides somewhat. She marched towards the door, looking like a woman not to be messed with in her heels as she stormed towards him.
"You may think this is a game, Thomas Shelby," she hissed under her breath so that the staff would not hear, "but it is not a game to me. I'm here to help you, and all you've done so far is wind me up and take the piss." She added, striding past him confidently in the direction of the dining room.
"Tread carefully." Verity called back, her hair bouncing with each cogent step.
-
The overly large table dominated the long, dark wood dining room - with its high square windows and extravagant drapes.
Thankfully for Verity's sake, she wasn't left to stare out Tommy for the duration of the meal - as his young son, Charlie, had joined them. At first, he questioned who Verity was - and was quickly returned with 'one of daddy's friends' by Tommy. Verity inwardly scoffed at this.
The little boy was a delight, a very keen young boy who enjoyed nothing more than talking about horses or his violin lessons. He was very sweet, and seemed to enjoy Verity's returned enthusiasm over the things he loved.
It had the psychologist questioning how the young boy had turned out such a joy when his father appeared to be anything but. She could only assume that Tommy was a different man when alone with his son - perhaps a very doting and caring father past the stony exterior he plastered on for anyone else.
"Charlie, eat your dinner." Tommy remarked from behind a newspaper halfway through the meal. Ironic, considering he'd barely touched his own plate of food. He had barely said a word, leaving Verity and Charlie to go on about their innocent and light hearted little conversation.
The little boy looked over at his father, who was very much hidden behind the paper, a smoking cigarette in one hand and most of his dinner untouched. Charlie looked for a moment as if he was thinking about answering back, but another moment's thought had told him he'd probably get in trouble for doing that.
"Okay..." the lad sighed, looking miserably at the broccoli on his plate as he poked the steamed veg with a skeptical look.
Verity quickly caught onto the boy's disappointment at having to consume the green produce, and she decided to try a trick.
"Charlie," Verity started, having finished her Venison and seasonal veg minutes ago (and thoroughly enjoying it).
"If you eat those, then the green fairies will leave you a present tomorrow." She detailed in a fantastical and story telling tone, Charlie looking at her in excitement.
"Really?" He said, his eyes widened in childish delight.
Nodding her head, Verity was already thinking about the few coins she had in her purse that she could leave for Francis to give him tomorrow morning.
"Yes, sweetheart." Verity started, "but you have to eat all of them." She added, raising her brows at him - watching as within a moment, the young Shelby boy was stuffing his face with the broccoli like there was no tomorrow. Even Verity saw Tommy peering over the top of the newspaper, looking as if he was hiding his secret feeling of being impressed at the psychologist's quick thinking.
After that porcelain plate was clean, Francis entered to clear the plates and took young Charlie's hand to take him to bed.
"Goodnight, Verity."
"Dr Grant." Tommy pressed his son in a correcting manner.
"Verity is fine, Charlie." The psychologist corrected, feeling Tommy's cool eyes burning her skin. The little boy bore a small smile, and then waved one final time as Francis led him from the dining room.
The atmosphere in the dining room shifted as soon as Charlie's childlike innocence had left - and the stale atmosphere from before in Tommy's office returned like a bad hangover.
There was so much Verity wanted to say, wanted to find out about Tommy's behaviour. But clearly now was not the right time for the man. It did make her wonder why he had been so progressive in the first session only to put the block back up. Maybe he'd had second thoughts about putting his trust into her.
"Feel free to go and wander about." Tommy suddenly called up, turning a page of the paper as he cleared his throat.
"Don't have to sit and wait for me."
Clearly he wasn't in the mood for entertaining his guest.
Verity's brow furrowed in slight confusion. She felt slightly uncomfortable about the prospect of wandering around (practically) a stranger's house to entertain herself.
Yet staying sat in that chair in pressed silence seemed an even worse prospect.
Grabbing her half drank glass of gin and tonic, Verity quietly excused herself and walked to the far end of the dining room, her strides long and elegant as her hips swung a little with each gliding step. As she walked, she felt eyes on her - and she had to smirk to herself, shaking her head. Perhaps he was acting like this because he was upset she had refused him. He was playing the silent victim.
Closing the door shut behind her, Verity found herself stood alone in that vast hallway. There was an eerie silence to the space, like it was some devoid of some life.
Carrying her glass tightly in her hand, Verity slipped her shoes off at last - her feet aching from the towering stilettos as she made her way through cautiously. She passed the large oak staircase, her eyes automatically drawn to a huge portrait of a woman on the wall. She was beautiful, blonde - Verity knew in an instant it could only be Grace, Tommy's late wife.
Verity tried not to stare for too long, she already felt disrespectful walking around the house and with the thought that Grace was watching her from above, she felt a chill run down her spine.
With this in mind, Verity promised herself she would not snoop behind any closed doors.
Luckily for her, just down the corridor, was a room with its door open. The psychologist stepped inside the carpeted room, the plush material gentle beneath her toes as she stepped into the cozy space. The fire was burning steadily at the far end, there were a few couches and bookcases - but most prominently taking pride of place in that room was the large, black grand piano.
A childlike urge of curiosity controlled Verity, as she grossed the space. She set her glass down on the mantelpiece and stood by the piano. Her hazel eyes flickered up, checking it was safe before her extended index finger gently pressed on a key.
The piano played a note in response, it's rich sounds filling the space. Verity, after realising no one had come running to tell her off, took a seat on the stool. She used to love playing piano, but since qualifying some years ago she forgot her passion for the instrument.
As her fingers danced delicately over the polished keys, a familiar tune came to mind.
See, for a short time whilst Verity struggled with her studying for her qualification, battling oppressive, patriarchal men - she would spend evenings composing songs to take her mind off the brutality of her studies and the sniggering and negative males in the industry. Sometimes music was the only escape, especially when her dreams of becoming a psychologist sometimes felt so out of reach.
She hummed along to the tune she'd composed such a long time ago, smiling as she could barely remember any of the lyrics. She must of had the sheet music laying around in her office somewhere.
"...ivy...." she murmured musically, laughing to herself quietly, "... and the ink blue..."
Her voice crooned softly along where she could remember the pretty words she'd constructed into imaginative lyrical phrases, carried away on the soft notes of the piano. Too carried away to notice the figure in the door way until it was too late and she was already singing too loudly.
"Well..."
His voice - it jarred her to a stop. Such an ugly halt as the keys on the piano made an off-note sound at the sudden pressure taken from the keys. Verity felt her cheeks burning hot as she quickly rose to stand from the piano seat.
"Sorry." She apologised, "I saw the piano and I couldn't help myself." Verity explained, smoothing her skirts as she looked over at Tommy rather meekly.
He remained in his place at the doorway, the smoke from his cigarette twining upwards like a smokey vine in the air.
"No, you carry on, love." He said nonchalantly, raising the cigarette to his lips. "I didn't know you could sing like that."
There it was, the sound of being impressed in his voice. It was like a rare gem, something Verity was not expecting.
"Oh," she smiled bashfully, "thank you. It's just something silly I used to like to do." She replied to the Blinder, slowly walking away from the piano and instead busying herself by looking through the various titles in the bookcase.
"Didn't sound silly to me." Tommy suddenly said, "it sounded good. Unique."
With her face hidden, Verity let out a gentle sigh and tried not to let his praise get to her head. After all, it could have just been another tactic.
"Ever thought about being a singer?" He asked, slowly making his way into the room and lowering himself comfortably into one of the couches.
Turning away from the bookcase, Verity cocked her head slightly, a slightly amused look on her beautiful face.
"Seriously?" She asked, scoffing.
"Seriously." He repeated, his expression equaling that of his statement. Tommy took another long draw on his cigarette, looking over her for some moments as the smoke exhaled slowly on his sigh.
"I'd love to have you sing in my club." He started, "I've already got one singer there but... well, me and my brother, Arthur, we like to keep things fresh." He explained
Verity could not believe was she was hearing. Was he really serious about this? Or was he just leading her on? Her expression reflected that of utter confusion, and Tommy noted this straight away.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Was all he said, smirking to himself momentarily as Verity shook her head in response to his question. He remained silent to let his seriousness sink in with her.
"I'm a psychologist, Tommy." Verity said a few seconds later, "not a singer. It's very flattering you think a lot of my voice but... my work is committed to helping people who are struggling mentally."
The Shelby company leader sighed a long and disappointed breath, putting his cigarette out in the ash tray that was sat on the lamp table just by the arm of the couch.
"Shame." Tommy then said, his eyes fixed on the cigarette he was busy crushing up in the glass ash tray.
Only when it was fully burnt out, did he raise his cool blue eyes to her own.
"I really did like the thought of you singing in my club."
Laughing gently, Verity went back to retrieve her gin and tonic from the mantelpiece and shook her head.
"And a thought it will remain, Tommy." She said, taking a seat on the couch opposite as she studied the way his eyes were trained on her. It might of intimidated any other woman, but not Verity.
"The offer will stand," he furthered, voice nonchalant and monotone, "should you want to accept it at a later date."
Lifting the glass to her cherry red lips, Verity had a sip of the overly potent alcohol and held her stare with a level of confidence.
"Thank you. As kind as that is, I don't think I'll be needing it." She said in a polite but austere tone, noticing how his whole approach and aura towards her had changed. Clearly he'd had a little think about what she'd said to him earlier, and he was ready to act reasonably. In which case, she would be reasonable too.
The two shared minimal conversation, not about anything that was of any major worth to Verity - who just wanted him to open up. She soon politely excused herself to bed, glad that she had specified it wouldn't be in his room.
"I'll ask Francis where the spare suite is." Was all Verity said as she bid him goodnight, her curvy figure disappearing from the snug room. She was ready to have a frank conversation with him the next day about the future of their appointments - if there was to be any.
Verity collected her shoes from the bottom of the stairs and followed Francis up, her hazel eyes trained nervously on the looming, grand painting of the late Grace Shelby. Verity felt like a trespasser as she pressed on up the stairs, trying to push the thought to the back of her mind as they reached the door to the guest suite.
"Oh, Francis-" Verity said as the maid had just got her settled in the untouched spare bedroom. The psychologist fumbled through her purse and found a few spare coins.
"Leave these on Charlie's placemat tomorrow at breakfast?" She smiled kindly, placing the pennies into the maid's hand.
"Of course." Francis said, "goodnight, Dr Grant."
With that, the little woman disappeared along the low-lit landing and down the stairs.
Verity watched her figure shrink into the darkness, as she took one last look out at the corridor before sealing herself in the room for the night - readying herself to make Tommy face the facts tomorrow morning.