Chapter Text
You'd really outdone yourself this time.
Being spontaneous is what you're known for, and you liked that. It was your grandmother who taught you how to be difficult.
When they try to smooth your edges, rip the sandpaper.
You didn't have a natural place in polite society, your family knew this. But your father wasn't going to let you into the family business, either. So he took your brother, your imbecile of a brother, and let him lead instead. Two years later, you're sitting at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant with your parents, your brother who can't look you in the eye, and two gangsters from Birmingham. You could tell they were gangsters because they smelled like new money, and had guns under their blazers. One was an older woman Polly Shelby, and the other was her nephew, Thomas Shelby.
You thought it was any other business meeting, but your brother was fidgetting the way he did when you were younger, and he stole your necklace and broke it but didn't want to tell you. He was hiding something big. Luckily for him and unluckily for you, it quickly became abundantly clear.
"Let's get right to it, we'll settle the debt, put in an accountant who will manage to unfuck you, and take 45% of the resulting profit," Tommy Shelby laid the cards on the table. Your face contorted in confusion. What debt?
"Alright, it's done," your father said, a quiver in his voice along with relief.
"What? That's a terrible bargain," you scoffed. The way your mother turned away, her eyes tearing up, and your brother practically quivering beside you. You met the eyes of Polly Shelby, and something about them told you to brace yourself.
"Is your daughter still upholding the marriage to our dear Thomas?" Polly asked. For a moment, you thought you blacked out. For a moment, you thought you'd forgotten you had a sister. For a moment, you assumed it wasn't the 1920's but the 17-fucking-40's where you may have come with some livestock as well.
"So this is it, huh? This is why you let me go to Paris with my friends last week, Mum? And why Dad said he'd buy me a car? And why Graham won't stop fucking fidgeting?" You asked, looking to your brother who just grimaced at you. There was no out, and you knew it.
"Don't make a scene, y/n," your father told you, tired already as if he'd put up some great fight.
"Well? Are we on?" Polly got us back on track. "I'll need to hear it from her." You looked down at your handbag until you saw the emerald color and not a blinding red.
"You'll take 10% of the resulting profits," you finally said. If you were getting given away, it was going to be at least a good deal.
"40," the deep, Brummie voice of Thomas Shelby came to the party. Your eyes flicked up to meet his icy blue ones.
"12."
"35."
"15."
"33%, and you can go to Paris as much as you'd like," he said his final offer with a smirk. If you weren't so fueled by anger, you'd appreciate it.
"18%, I go to Paris as much as I want, and I won't make your life a living hell. Maybe I'll even kiss you goodbye in the morning, my love ," you said in the most charming voice you could muster, which wasn't very. He'd never tell you that's when he knew he liked you, but he didn't have to. You landed on an even 25%. You could go to Paris, he'd get his morning goodbye kiss and some peace from time to time, and you'd get a car that was better than anything your father had planned. You shook on it yourself.
"Welcome to the Shelby's," Polly said when she grasped your hand. You grabbed your bag and turned to Tommy.
"If the car's not a Hispano-Suiza, 2% of that profit comes directly to me," you warned him before walking away.
You should've fucking known that it would be at least partially an adventure. At first, you were mad. You allowed yourself to be easily swayed in the wedding planning, saying yes to the most frivolous things.
"500 bloody pounds for a dress you'll wear once?!" Tommy all but shouted and threw down the receipt on the desk of his office. You sat unnerved in the seat in front of him.
"Once, on the most important day of my life," you said, giving a brief pout and nothing else. Tommy rubbed his chin as he went to refill his glass of whiskey.
"Stubborn, reckless, outlandish even. Sure, you're all of those things. But spoiled? That's a surprise," he said, almost disappointed. You rolled your eyes at his little act.
"Come off it, Shelby. I have very little in this world, least of all a family I can trust. Everything I do have is about to belong to you because I'm a woman with nothing but familial debt. So don't stand there and lecture me about the rights and wrongs of acting out, Thomas." You stood and were halfway to the door when Tommy blocked your way.
"You've threatened to run away if you had to live with your parents, so we've put you in a grand apartment in London. You have your parties there with all your friends. You spend all the money you'd like and more. When will it end?" He asked. You wondered if he actually cared about the stability of your coping mechanisms, or about you. His hand came up to brush your waist. It was all you needed to come back to your senses. You took a breath and look up at him.
"Until I'm satisfied," You decided.
Polly was something between annoyed and amused at you. You were loud, as subtle as a cannon, and possibly more stubborn as her nephew. There wasn't a week that went by where Tommy wasn't talking about something you'd done.
"Tommy, have you tried going along with something she says?" Polly suggested one day when you'd called not finding a proper wedding venue an "emergency."
"If this is kidnap, it's very ironic," you said as you stumbled along the gravel. Your ridiculous fiance had taken you to an undisclosed location. Now, the only thing guiding you was Tommy, whose hand was over your eyes.
"It's not a kidnapping. On the contrary, I've come to take you home," Tommy said before his hand lifted. You blinked the blur away to see a large house. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It was a mansion if you'd ever seen one.
"Holy hell," you breathed.
"This is Arrow House, Ms. y/l/n. It's got everything you could need and hopefully what you want. Here's a map." He pulled a thick piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Let me know if I've missed anything."
Crying wasn't in your repertoire. Even the events of the past few months hadn't done you in. But, you made an exception and allowed a few to leak while you looked around. You could feel your fiance's eyes watching you take it all in, but it didn't matter when the home was breathtaking. When you came back to the foyer, you couldn't help but tweak an eyebrow at Tommy.
"Have you got a crush on me, Shelby?" You asked, or accused rather. He just chuckled and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door.
"Let's go see the stables."
The wedding was grander than was even sensible. Tommy didn't know how you forged the guest list or who most of these people were, but you told him if he helped you hang drapes, you'd explain your itemized list. Now that was a sight to see. You could only stand it for a bit and did what you usually did at parties. You found quiet on a balcony overlooking the wedding reception turned memorable party that spilled into the large venue's gardens.
"Well, we've done it, Mrs. Shelby," Tommy said, walking up from behind you with two champagne glasses. You took one with a broad smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I'd have to agree."
"Are you having a good time?"
"Sure, are you? This is your wedding gift," you said, motioning to the crowds.
"And how is that?" He looked over the railing with you. You started pointing people out.
"Over there is the Commissioner and his wife's sister. London police chief over there with his mistress. Lady Catherine Wilcox, one of the most influential socialites in the country, is by the fountain. She's been eyeing Arthur all night too. And so on." You nodded triumphantly. "Thomas, with a crowd like this, your wedding is your introduction to society." He turned and leaned against the railing, and you followed his lead.
"I guess I owe you a thank you," he said. You cupped your ear and leaned closer.
"Let's hear it," you said.
"Thank you, y/n." He rolled his eyes, then looked at you with a sigh. "Are you happy, then?" He asked.
"Better, I'm satisfied."
With a clink of your glasses, your relationship could begin. And when Tommy leaned in to kiss you, you didn't pull away.
"This seems like a crush," were your first words when you parted.
"You're the one who made us late to the ceremony," he pointed out.
"No one even noticed."
"I think they did," he begged to differ.
"You weren't supposed to come to find me before the wedding. It's bad luck," you tsked Tommy, taking another sip of the bubbling drink, which did nothing to help the heat creeping up your neck.
"Just had to make sure you didn't run off." He shrugged but moved closer to whisper in your ear. "And I believe, Mrs. Shelby, the dress wasn't even on yet."
"Don't get your hopes up, it meant nothing." You waved it away, not convinced or convincing. Tommy nodded then kissed you again.
"Right, right. It's just good business."