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"It's Abby Rockefeller if you must know."
Irene woke up feeling restless today. She got up from her silk pillows with her head pounding manically. Maybe because of the gin she drank with the girls last night and the night before, perhaps because of the recent news two days ago that led to her drinking a lot with the girls.
Either way, Irene woke up feeling unwell. She wished that she could stay in bed all day, having soup delivered to her straight away, curl up in the comfort of her silk sheets, waking up around lunch or dinner, but it turns out she couldn't. Much to her dismay, today was the first day of work for her.
The first day of her to do any type of work in all her lifetime, for that matter. And she felt like she would hate every minute of it. This is her first time working; working under a Shelby doesn't make it any better.
Well, it's not all bad. Irene gets to practice her legal mind again, after so long being promoted from her Papa's head of legal advisers to, well, a significant shareholder of the company. And of course, she gets to teach a young mind – the type of mind she loves most in this world, as they are pure and untouched- her violin skills. Yet, Irene still felt heavy for going into all of this.
She has no desire whatsoever to be involved with the notorious Mr Shelby, and now, not only she's involved with him, but she also has to make the Shelby company's next big moves.
"Outrageous!" Cousin Mary Windsor had cried after Irene told her about the whole ordeal during tea time. And all of them couldn't agree more. Work is very foreign in their tongues, and this was coming from respectable ladies taught several languages by their governesses and boarding schools. And it seems like Irene was the first to acquaint them with such a word truly.
And now, here she is, getting ready for her work. Something that she'll do daily from now on, other than hosting high tea, drinking champagne, and of course, throwing money around.
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Papa huffed yet another cloud of smoke, looking at his pocket watch, "Darlings, can you please check on your brother's whereabouts. This is atrocious! We've been waiting for an hour. You'll be late!"
"Alright, papa." Irene and Izzy rose from their seats, exiting the drawing-room. Today, Robert was supposed to take her, Izzy, and their Papa to the Shelby office in Birmingham for Irene's "Welcoming", it seemed like Papa will also talk more business with Mr Shelby. It's a bit much, accompanying one's daughter to her first day of work, but is there such a thing as too much when it comes to this blue blood?
That was the plan for Robert to take them, as Birmingham's journey would take more than an hour from the private lands of Eaton Hall. But that brother of hers was nowhere to be seen, and it was very odd for him to be late. Irene and Izzy searched the whole ground floor, not finding a single strand of Robert's hair.
They even asked Tabitha, Imogen, and Ana, who were in the dining room having breakfast, the girls answered with a shake of their heads. Izzy had asked where Daphne was, and all three of them stated that Daphne was absent because she was feeling under the weather from last night's little soiree. Honestly, Irene would feel the same as Daphne if it wasn't for her bloody first day of work.
"Mrs Peele, oh, thank God you're here. Have you seen Robert?"
The woman with the wrinkly skin furrowed her eyebrows, "Sorry, my Lady. I have not seen your brother this morning; he's probably still asleep after having so much work with your father."
Irene and Izzy rolled their eyes. Being too tired was not an excuse to be late; their Papa was always working late. Yet, he's never late for breakfast or meeting his family before he sets off to work again—typical Robert. Either Robert has been drinking until early in the morning, or he's invited a girl home. Both of them have agreed to check his room first.
As they were nearing Robert's room, Izzy whispered, "How about we scare him a little bit? Make that arse pay for being late."
"This is why you're my sister. Let's," Irene smirked. Their heels-covered feet tiptoed as best as they could, stopping in front of Robert's doors. Irene put the finger on her freshly rouged lips as Izzy signalled two and three with her fingers. On the count of three, they pushed open the doors, only for it to make a bang sound as it hits the walls.
It was the sight in front of them that made them freeze; Izzy put her hands on her opened mouth as Irene screamed, "Holy Mother of Cullinan Diamond!"
They were shocked, and they were shocked for a good reason. In front of Irene and Izzie's eyes lies their ever graceful-cheerful-sweet and naked Daphne while Robert, also butts naked, was approaching the bed. Robert being butt naked was something Irene and Izzy finds very traumatic and something that they need to scoop out of their brains.
"Didn't you learn to bloody knock?!" Robert hurriedly got into his covers, alongside poor Daphne, whose face is now as white as a ghost's. Irene and Izzy still stood their eyes wide, unable to move or form any type of word as Daphne stuttered the lamest sentence an intellectual has ever uttered, "W-well, I was sick..."
Irene shared a look of confusion with Izzy before pointing at the Wittelsbach-Graff diamond necklace resting between her friend's breasts, "And your medicine jumped into Robert's bed?"
And honestly, only women from Irene's social standing would wear diamonds while having sex.
Seconds later, the sisters heard footsteps from the stairs. Irene saw from the corner of her eyes the rest of the girls were jogging up to them. Imogen was the first one to speak up, "What's wrong? Papa told us to check, are you – whoa..."
Tabitha held on to her stomach as she laughed, "This is what I call morning entertainment." Ana shared her laugh with Tabitha, slapping her thighs, though her face still registered a little shock.
Robert looked at the girls, bewildered, "What are you still doing here? Get out!"
The girls backed away from the room entrance, closing the door midway only for it to slam open again. Irene held in her laughter as she reprimanded her brother, "Uh - Robert, we have to go immediately, honey. Papa is waiting downstairs. So, come, please."
"Jesus Christ! Just leave!"
Irene slammed the door shut. It was quiet for a moment, all of them looking at each other slowly before breaking into fits of laughter. The kind of laugh that's very unladylike. And possibly be mistaken as asthma. Wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye, Ana exclaimed, "Shit... what was that-"
"Girls! What's going on up there? Should I come up - " Irene can hear Papa's echoing shout from downstairs; Irene, trying to cover for Robert and Daphne, shouted back, "No, Papa! We're good! Robert's just about to be done."
With one last dirty look, they all laughed as they descended the flights of stairs. Their foreheads and cheeks hurt due to the pressure of laughing too much. They all were baffled by Daphne - who solemnly swore to cross that brother of the Grosvenors. Yet, she was caught red-handed.
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The journey to Birmingham was quite an awkward one, which made Papa puzzled. Never once the three eldest children of his, when combined, was this quiet. Whether it be rowing or joking about, his children were never tranquil.
Yet, here they were, with Robert in the front seat looking uncomfortable as ever with his younger sisters on either side of Papa in the back seat who have been looking at each other with a look of absolute glee. "I'm sorry, was there something I missed?"
Isabelle clasped a hand over her mouth as she glanced over Robert. Irene snickered. Both of them now look at Robert as if he was a clown. Irene snapped her head toward her father, "Oh nothing, papa, there was just a tiny bit of prework merriment."
"Something for us to remember when we're feeling strained in our work," Izzy added. Their Papa had a quizzed look on his face before it changed to a look of bemused as he watched his daughters laugh. Something that he's always loved, his daughters laughing with no care of the cruel world. Although in their mid-twenties, his children have always found their way too naughty. A quality Hugh has always wished would be implemented forever as they face this cold world.
Robert shot them a sharp glare, a glare that altogether says, don't you dare tell any soul of what happened, or I will make your life living hell. Irene and Isabelle have seen that look before throughout their childhood.
A look that strangely does scare the two young heiresses. As when that look had come out, Robert will act on his words. There will be a hell to pay. Be it endless pranks, infinity jump scares, switching out your rouges with despicable things, Robert had never failed to make his sisters cry whenever he cooked up that expression of his.
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It was a long drive indeed from the manor to the Birmingham office owned by the middle son of the Shelbys. Fortunate enough, they had extra oil in the car's boot; the oil was enough to get through almost two hours of driving. Irene dreaded the fact that she had to suffer this long drive every day from now on.
They were welcomed by a slim figured woman with short wavy hair, a hairstyle booming these days. Irene thought of it as a bit mainstream. The woman had smiled to Papa and Robert, though lingering her eyes on her and Izzy, her thin chapped lips turning into a thin smile instead. The woman didn't need to say anything for Irene and Izzy to know what she was saying.
Something that rhymes with stay away from my man, you pompous arsed whores. Women do that; we know what one is saying just by the flicker of one's brows, the glint of one's eyes, or the twitch decorating one's lips. It was a skill Irene was proud of her sex owned.
If she weren't a young, respected, intelligent duchess and heiress, Irene would've laughed while showing the bitch her place. Who does she think she is?
Thomas Shelby stepped out of the building just in time to see the exchange between the three women. The interaction between his lover and the woman he can't seem to kick out of his busy head these days.
Tommy didn't realise he was smirking until the Duke of Westminster cleared his throat. Aware of the tension between the women. "Right, Lizzie. Why don't you grab our guests some drinks as I show them around, eh?"
The woman then scowled as she turned; Irene smirked at her siblings. That's right, Lizzie. You're only a mere secretary. The three siblings seemed to know what Irene was thinking; they couldn't help but share a grin, making the piercing blue-eyed Shelby and their Papa stare at them confused.
The former lingered his eyes on the eldest daughter of the noble house a little bit longer. It was for a split second their eyes met, again like the first time they met—Blue versus brown, duelling for what seemed like forever when it was only for a second.
The blue-eyed man cleared his throat as he diverted his eyes, and Irene let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Well, let me show you 'round."
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Thomas Shelby's headquarters was a spacious one. Not as big as her Papa's, but Irene was surprised to see how space could fit so many employees. Considering Mr Shelby's business was a new and successful one, compared to her Papa's hereditary empire. "And this is my accountant and cousin, Michael Gray."
Accountant? "Goodness, an accountant?"
Mr Shelby looked taken aback by the oldest heiress' remark, "Yes, an accountant. Do you not know what an accountant is, Your Majesty?"
The apples of Irene's cheeks tinged bright red, so did her neck. This man truly knows how to push her buttons. The employees, including Mr Gray and Lizzie -much to Irene's dismay- chuckled when they heard the patriarch's remark. Robert was laughing along until Izzy pinched him in the waist as Irene shot him a glare. That brother of hers soon covered his mouth with a fist.
"I meant in this line of business you're in. Do you require an accountant?" Irene straightened her back, regaining her regal demeanour back. Her face turned to stone, something Thomas Shelby didn't realise made the corners of his mouth turn upward. The heiress to the wealthiest duchy in all of Great Britain seemed to have many better things to do and say than being embarrassed.
Thomas took a drag from his cigarette, "Especially in my line of work."
"Right, well, Mr Shelby and I have a few more businesses to bore you out. Why don't you kids stay here for a little while." Papa patted at the now smoking Mr Shelby.
Who seemed to can't keep his eyes to himself.
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"Quite an entourage you've got to take you to work." Mr Shelby rubbed his tired eyes as Irene watched her Papa and Robert drive away, with Izzy beside her. Irene turned an innocent pair of eyes to the leader of the Shelbys. "Oh right, we like to support each other it's a sign of appreciation in our family, we also accompanied Robert-"
"Will you two be escorted to work every day then? Like a child does."
Izzy was about to step forward when Irene held her back, "Whether we would be carried on a pedestal to work every day or not is none of your business, Mr Shelby. We are only here as your new legal team, now if you don't mind, please show us to our offices."
Irene regretted saying those words right after Thomas showed them their office, or might she add his office only with an extra desk in the room right in front of his own. Irene once again looked at Tommy, confused, "Mr Shelby, I don't understand... "
Tommy cleared his throat, then his hands grandly expressed, "Right so, this's your office."
"Our office is in your office?" Izzy spoke up. Tommy threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before stomping it in a way that somehow made Irene's breath hitch. "Oh no, this is your sister's desk 'ere. Your desk, Ms Isabelle, will be outside near Michael's."
Irene couldn't help but scoff, "This is absurd. A company lawyer doesn't get their own office? What kind of company is this?"
"A well established one, Your Highness. Now you're welcome to continue your moaning and bitching, or you – as the new head of legal – could start studying the case for our next merge and take over." Mr Shelby, with his stony face, stared at Irene dead in the eyes.
The younger sister of the latter danced her eyes between the male alpha and beta. It truly bemuses her that a man, a Mr Shelby for that matter, could turn her strong sister's minds and emotions into coils. "Right, I'll take my leave then. I'll ask Michael where I'm seated."
Tommy looked away first, exhaling a puff of breath he didn't know was holding, "Right, go 'head."
Irene whipped her head to face her sister, who was nearing the door. A mop of wavy brown locks almost flogged Tommy if it weren't for his fast moves. The older of the two girls whispered to the younger, "Izzy, don't you dare leave me with him!"
Tommy amusingly watched as the two sisters argued back and forth whether Izzy should stay in the room or not. In the end, the latter chose to leave the room as she was feeling a bit uncomfortable by now. Tommy noticed how similar the two sisters are, to the point of indistinguishable.
Yet they were so different; Tommy was very intrigued. He was never this invested in paying attention to a set of ladies. He was significantly invested in the older one of the two; he didn't place her desk in front of his for no reason.
Izzy decorated her face with an apologetic look as she turned the doorknob, "I'm sorry, my sweet. I'll see you around, alright?"
Irene scowled at her sister, already halfway through the door and rushing out of the room. Then she realised Mr Shelby was still standing behind her. she could even smell the scent of menthol and expensive cologne that hung on the patriarch behind her. "Right, go ahead. Take a seat."
Irene stared at her desk in distaste. Her desk was practically attached to Tommy's. She didn't understand the reason behind it, nor did she want to. She guessed that Thomas Shelby has some serious trust issues with his newly made business partner's daughters.
That was ridiculous in Irene's head; why would you doubt daughters of very respectable nobles, and if that were the case, why is it only her desk in the room. "I'm not sitting there. Nor will I do my job there."
Thomas lifted a brow, his jaw now tightening. "Well, Your Excellency. You're welcome to do your legal work standin' up."
Now it's Irene's turn to tighten her jaw. She exhaled her long-overdue breath, be calm, Irene, you are a magnificent, majestic, intelligent, and captivating woman. You can do this. Her moves were slow and guarded as if her new boss would jump at her and eat her alive. Irene primly placed her fur coat on the back of the chair as the blue eyes that belonged to her boss raked at her—making the young bright thing's skin slightly prickle.
When she was seated correctly, Irene cleared her throat. "Right, so..."
Mr Shelby looked at her one last time before plucking a file from one of the cabinets on his desk, a locked one Irene observed. He then pushed it toward her; ever so slightly, she could even smell the menthol from his fingers. "Shelby Company Limited's newest contract with the company up in South of France, courtesy of the Grosvenor Group. Study it for me."
Irene skimmed her pupils over the neatly typed words. One of the biggest export-import companies that her cousins co-owned with her aunts and uncles in Cannes. She was impressed by how the family from mama's side was open-minded enough to do business with a company like Mr Shelby's. Papa's side of the family would be appalled only by hearing the name Shelby.
She reckons her family in France didn't know that she had to work under the company they signed with. Her British and French sides of the family have in common that they share the same proudness. Never work under someone.
"Hmm... This part here, we need to change this." Irene ticked a section of the agreement with her fountain pen before pushing the file back to Thomas. "And this section, it always appears in every company contract, but it doesn't necessarily benefit you or the company. A friend of mine's father got in a bit of trouble just by obliging it."
Thomas nodded slowly with the same stony expression on his face as he studied her; lighting up a cigarette, he said, "You know very much about this."
Irene's face contorted into a bemused expression, "Oxford Law does not give away degrees for free, Mr Shelby. You have to learn things."
Tommy was a bit taken aback by the socialite sitting in front of him. Then the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, "So tell me, who is this friend of your's father that got into trouble?"
"Is this one of the questions that you ask every lawyer in your payroll, Thomas?" Answered Irene, her eyes and hands never leaving the file given to her.
Tommy loved the way his names deliciously rolled out of Irene's lips. It awoke something beastly inside of him. He didn't realise it, but he chuckled out of intrigue. "If I ought to be in trouble over one clause, I would like to know who got in trouble first."
"Just a dear family friend in New York. I'm going to ask Izzy to retype the fixed contracts and ask her to read everything over in case I missed the point. Is that alright with you?" Irene stood up and brushed up her dress. Thomas gave a curt nod, somehow still intrigued by the socialite's dear friend from New York. His mind turned its every coil to think of the new possibilities with the exciting linkage.
Tommy Shelby's mind honestly does not know when to rest. Irene took a glance at the very focused figure in front of her.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, she adds, "It's Abby Rockefeller if you must know."
The socialite turned her heels, carrying the file in her hand, heading toward the doors, hips swaying and lips curling into a devilish smirk.
Leaving the leader of the infamous gang, for the first time, astounded.