WAKING UP UNDER THE SUN RAYS AND WITHIN THOMAS'S SHEETS WAS ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL. Even more when she noticed how he was holding her close through his morning sleep, her cheek pressed to the Romanian tattoo on his bare chest while his chin rested on the top of her head, soft breaths escaping his parted mouth.

It had been a while since Delilah had been so intimate with someone. The last time had been a complete disaster and had ended as soon as the guy in question had left for the war. Of course, she regretted ending things when he had been taken away to fight and probably to lose his life on the battlefield, but she couldn't take it anymore. Her heart hadn't beat for him for a too long time and it wasn't what she thought love was about.

Delilah brushed her fingers against the red marks on his shoulders. Scratches and bite marks spread across the tanned skin, just where freckles were splashed on his shoulders. He shifted beside her, bringing her closer to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the contact his plump lips made with the top of her head.

"You're awake," he simply said, his voice much deeper in the morning. Delilah shivered at the hoarse sound and she felt her heartbeat fastening.

"Haven't been for long," she whispered back, letting her hands travel down his sides. "What time is it?"

Thomas drifted his eyes towards the wooden clock hanging on his wall. His fingertips felt electric when they brushed on the bare skin in her back, shuffling slightly under the bedsheets to make himself more comfortable beside her. His hands ended up resting around her waist while she pressed her face into his warm chest, closing her eyes as if chasing sleep again.

"Six," he responded, releasing a large breath of blissful happiness when she kissed his collarbone.

"It's too early," Delilah groaned, her mouth letting out a sigh when she shifted between his arms. "I like your bedroom, by the way."

"Do you like the bedroom or its owner?" Thomas chuckled in her ear, grabbing a fistful of her hair to lift her face and kiss her jawline.

The redhead laughed, rolling over so that she was now straddling Thomas. Once he had released her hair from his grip, she turned towards the window, her hands flattened against his stomach and her red curls covering her bare chest from anyone's view. Thomas wrapped his large hands around her smooth thighs, staring at the weather outside for a second before she shifted, raising her arms towards the ceiling.

"I was thinking about bringing Angelo and Milo to the auction," Delilah informed, bringing her palms to Tommy's chest, once again skimming his tattoo.

"I don't see why you wouldn't," Thomas replied, his cerulean eyes glimmering with admiration when they lifted to meet her gaze looking down at him.

Delilah hummed and moved out of the bed, grabbing her clothes and slowly getting dressed under Thomas's careful eyes. He still couldn't believe what had happened the previous night and at that moment, everything felt surreal. Like he was floating in the air, staring at a divine creature that didn't exist. Maybe high on opium, he wouldn't know. For all he knew, he might as well have smoked and drunk all night and had imagined all of this.

"Delilah!"

The redhead stopped in her movements, her bare arms now covered in the black velvet of her dress. She frowned and turned towards Thomas, her magnificent face scrunched up. God, how fucking much he wanted those swollen lips against his again.

"Is it my fucking brother?" Delilah asked while her eyes widened in realization. "Coming, Angelo!"

She pulled the dress up, zipping it skillfully and standing above Thomas's face, his body still spread under the warm bed sheets. She towered over him, red locks brushing against his cheeks before bending down. Finally, their lips were in contact again, locked in a passionate kiss they wouldn't have dared to share before their night together. She chuckled when he wrapped his calloused hand around her delicate neck, bringing her closer and forcing her to lean her hands against the mattress so that she wouldn't fall forward.

"I think it was," Thomas whispered, his deep voice passing through their mouths. "You better get upstairs before he comes here."

"You're right," she responded, pecking his lips one last time and walking to the bedroom door.

Delilah closed the door behind her and walked down the stairs while Tommy laid back in his bed, his eyes full of her body in detail and his head wondering how he would make it out alive. Her fingers left the staircase railing to join her brother by the front door, side by side with Arthur. The older Shelby raised an eyebrow and she simply cleared her throat, sliding her feet in the high heels she had just found abandoned on the carpet.

"Good morning, brother and friend," she greeted, hearing Thomas's footsteps upstairs. "How can I help you at six in the morning?"

"I mean, besides telling me you won't be coming home so that I don't believe someone killed you too last night?" Angelo asked and made his younger sister frown.

"What do you mean killed me 'too'?" she wondered and it was at that moment Tommy fucking Shelby decided to join them, his hands slid in his pockets.

Angelo's eyes widened when he seemed to realize what had happened between the two of them the previous night. At first, he had thought Delilah had spent the night outside, simply staring at the sky and getting drunk like they used to do in London. Though, when she hadn't come back in the early hours of the morning, he'd started panicking. Maybe she had been taken away by Sabini? Or maybe she was lying dead on the pavement like a fucking dog? But no, she had been at the Shelby's since the beginning, shagging the leader of the Peaky Blinders, who happened to be their biggest business associate of all time.

"The Digbeth Kid," Angelo said lowly, glaring profusely at them. "He'd been slaughtered during the night. He's fucking dead. Did you two sleep together?"

"I mean, could you make it more obvious?" Arthur snickered, only to be interrupted by Delilah waving her hand in his face.

"Wait, hold on," she stammered, her brows furrowed as she lifted her index finger in the air, "Digbeth Kid died in prison?"

"I told you, his throat was fucking slit," Angelo repeated and before he could even carry on, Delilah was pushing him to the side and rushing through Watery Lane. "What the fuck is she on about?"

"How would I know?" Thomas asked when the Italian's eyes finally fell on his face.

"Well, I don't know, maybe 'cause you're the last one who's been speaking to her," the oldest affirmed. "Well, if you did speak."

Thomas rolled his eyes and exited the house behind the tiny redhead, walking faster than usual to catch up with her. Once he was beside her, he slid his hand in hers. Delilah came into a stop, lifting her doe-eyes to meet his troubled gaze. She had a phone call to make, he had a meeting to organize and they were expected in less than two hours at the betting shop, yet here they were, under the clouds and in the middle of Watery Lane, holding hands and staring into each other's souls.

"Where are you going?" Thomas calmly asked, his hoarse voice effectively relaxing her nervous wreck of a mind.

"I need to make a phone call," Delilah started to explain, her eyes drifting to the heavy firmament above their heads. "To my mother first and to Milo. I need to know who these people were. Then, we need to organize your family meeting and tonight I will have to arrange something for Milo and Angelo, it's been a while since the last evening we've all shared together."

"You can call anyone from my office and you know that, so you can start with that," Thomas assured, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I can handle the family meeting on my own, and your brother and Milo are coming to the meeting. You can organize your evening with them later when you will feel calmer."

Delilah narrowed her eyes and harshly placed her hands on Thomas's cheeks, bringing his face closer to hers and locking their lips. There, in the middle of the street, under everyone's careful eyes, two Evil persons sharing their passionate embrace for everyone to see. They belonged with each other, and Thomas thought he'd never get away from her when his hands tightened around her waist, deliciously bruising her delicate skin.

They parted, breathless but happier than they had ever been, and immediately made their way to the betting shop. Neither of them talked when they reached the double doors, Thomas opening them for Delilah to step in. Her heartbeat fastened as she approached his office, the unlocked door cracked open. The redhead pushed it and walked inside, grabbing the phone and sitting down on Tommy's leather chair. He stopped at the entrance, seeing her as comfortable as if on a throne. Even this place couldn't resist the Goddess.

"Buongiorno, mamma," Delilah greeted when her mother picked up the call, her doe eyes staring at Thomas leaning against the doorframe.

"Mio Dio, Della dearest!" Jessica exclaimed, her high-pitched voice rising slowly with realization. "I missed you, I thought I told you to call more often the other day!"

Delilah chuckled and lowered her head, red locks of hair falling in front of her eyes. Her mother had always insisted for her children to call her as often as possible, even though the DeLuca siblings were almost always busy. Famiglia prima di tutto but whenever they still had time.

"I know, I'm sorry I didn't," she apologized, running her hand through her hair and playing with her nails while staring at the wall before her. "I wish I could just tell you about everything going on, but first, abbiamo un problema."

Jessica sighed on the other side of the phone and Delilah heard a chair rubbing on the ground. Once her mother seemed to be settled, the redhead leaned forward, her hand leaning flat on the wooden surface of the desk.

"We had a guy here in prison, he'd been slaughtered by Sabini's men," Delilah briefly explained, considering unnecessary using too much detail. "I need to know who left London for Birmingham yesterday morning or during the night before so that I can find their identities."

"I will be asking," Jessica affirmed, her daughter could imagine her very vividly rubbing her forehead in concentration. "But are you two safe? With this figlio di puttana around, you might as well end up dead somewhere."

"Don't worry yourself, mamma," Delilah laughed, her eyes cold and her smile fake. "Angelo and I will be moving houses really soon, Madeline's grandmother passed away and she needs the house back."

"This is sad," Jessica responded, uncertainty lacing her tone. "Ti voglio tanto bene, both of you. I just want you two to be safe so please, let me know more often how everything is going, okay?"

"I promise I will call more often," Delilah assured, her voice softer. "I actually have to go for now, but please call this number whenever you have more information. Just don't call after midnight or before six o'clock, it's highly unlikely someone would answer."

Thomas snickered from the entrance, running his calloused hand through his dark strands of hair. Delilah smiled but it quickly faded as her mother said her goodbyes and finally hung up, leaving the redhead with her thoughts. Her brain seemed to have finally awoken as she snapped her fingers, catching Thomas's attention.

"The Digbeth Kid wasn't alone in his cell, right?" she demanded, though she already knew the answer. "I have to see him. He probably can describe the men and I might just know them or ask my people if they have any idea who they might be."

"That's right," Thomas agreed, sliding his hands in his pockets. "You have to take someone with you, though. The inmates haven't seen a woman in ages."

"There isn't any chance I would fall in love with an inmate, Thomas," Delilah giggled, raising an eyebrow at the man. "And anyway, you're most likely the one who will accompany me there."

Thomas snorted and motioned for her to join him in the main room. She did, standing awkwardly beside him while a few men entered the shop, stopping before them. Delilah recognized a few faces — Scudboat, mostly — but couldn't tell most of their names. The redhead crossed her arms over her chest and waited until Arthur, John and Polly walked in to let her shoulders relax.

"This had better been good to interrupt my holiday," Polly affirmed as a greeting, throwing her coat on the back of a chair and joining her nephews' sides.

"Where's the boy?" Arthur asked, searching for his younger cousin through the room.

"In the back room," Polly answered calmly. "I only brought him because afterwards we're going to the museum."

Delilah raised her eyebrows, glancing at the oldest Shelby. Arthur's smirk was nothing but a bad omen and she already knew where this conversation would ultimately lead, so she refrained herself and decided not to talk right now. Just in case.

"He wanted to come and say hello —"

"Shut up, John," Polly interrupted, her voice steady and eyes cold. "There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room."

"We can say hello on our way out, that's nothing," Delilah stated, trying to avoid Arthur's eyes now securely locked on her face.

"Well I know someone who certainly didn't say 'ello this morning," Arthur strongly affirmed, eyes shining with amusement.

The redhead sighed, biting on her bottom lip while everyone stopped talking and stared at her instead. Of course, she had to say something to make everyone feel better. Why did she have to always interject in people's business? Polly was old enough to defend herself just fine, for fuck's sake.

"I had a phone call to make and I couldn't drag on and waste my time saying hello," Delilah explained. "I apologize if it hurt your feelings, though."

"You surely didn't drag on when you were shagging Thomas last night," the older scoffed, and a few dramatic gasps echoed through the betting shop.

"That has nothing to do with a waste of time," the redhead denied, shaking her head slowly.

"Why are we talking about my sister fucking bloody Thomas?" Angelo's booming voice was added into the mix, Milo's smirk barely hidden behind his friend's shoulder. "And why is Michael waiting in the back room?"

"Oh, God," Delilah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can we talk about this later? Like the kind of 'never' later."

"I mean, we will have to talk about it," Polly scoffed, her hand holding a cigarette.

"Well, we have to talk about it too together, don't we?" Delilah snapped, moving her index finger between her and Thomas. "So let us do our thing and we'll talk about it one day. Now can we move on to fucking business? Or I might just kill myself now."

Silence fell upon the tiny group, Arthur and John's smirks never disappearing. Polly did her best to hide hers behind the palm of her hand, pretending to be lighting up a cigarette while Thomas awkwardly cleared his throat, avoiding Angelo's insistent glare. Of course, he wasn't afraid of the older DeLuca, but he still wasn't ready to face whatever was to come just yet.

"Don't joke about killing yourself," Angelo finally said, cutting through the heavy silence. Delilah muttered a 'Jesus Christ' under her breath which her brother successfully ignored. "Why is Michael outside then?"

"I'm taking him to the museum after the meeting and he has nothing to say about whatever we'll be discussing. He's unneeded now," Polly answered, making clear her wish for Michael not to be involved in the family business. "Delilah's right, can we move on to the next topic? Otherwise, I'll be late."

"Thank God," Delilah whispered, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as if actually expressing her gratitude to a Godlike figure. "The Digbeth Kid had his throat cut last night in prison. It was confirmed by my informants that Sabini's men are responsible for this massacre."

"I received this morning a telegram saying Thomas Shelby and Delilah DeLuca are next," Thomas added, throwing the piece of paper on the desk before them.

"Wait, what?"

Delilah widened her eyes as she stared at Thomas. He was impassibly looking at his family as they all passed the telegram, ending with Angelo and Milo taking a look together. Once they were done, they threw back the paper on the bureau, crossing their arms on their chests with cold faces and enraged orbs.

"If our men think we can't look after them in prison, they'll not work for us," Thomas stated while Arthur tore the telegram apart. "Sabini knows that. We need to get the Green sorted out."

"I'll pay a visit to the Digbeth Kid's cellmate and pay his bail, get him out of this rathole," Delilah explained, voice even and steady, her business voice. Once again, her friends could see the machinery of her brain working within her skull.

"Meanwhile, Scudboat and one of the boys, break a couple of windows, get yourselves arrested," Thomas commanded. "I'll have our coppers get you into the Green and you can find the bastards who did it in case we can't."

"Instead of breakin' a window, can we pinch a car?" Scudboat asked, making Thomas roll his eyes and the rest of the people chuckle. Even Delilah's lips parted in a light-hearted grin. "What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car, I'm still on a donkey."

"All right, just get yourselves arrested, it doesn't matter how," Thomas responded, slightly annoyed by his friend's amusement with the situation. "And before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid."

At that point, Delilah was unable to focus on the conversation anymore. Her mind wandered off without her complete consent, though she figured she was only allowing the intrusive thoughts so that her guilt could take over her darkened heart and torture her a little more.

Thomas was right, the Digbeth Kid was just a kid. And she had been right when she had thought he would only die miserably, by their faults, in a dark corner and convinced of his innocence, oblivious to everything that was going on around him. It wasn't him who had fueled the fire, but he was the one paying the price for the blaze that had followed.

"Lilah?"

The redhead blinked a few times, realizing she had been zoning out for the entirety of the conversation. Her eyes fell upon Michael's tall body and she couldn't help but notice how everyone was frowning at her, as if they had been asking for her for a long moment now.

"You'll take care of Michael at the auction, right?" Polly demanded, her frown deeper than anyone else's. She just knew something was wrong.

"Oh, yeah, sure," the woman responded, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. "Absolutely, yes."

"Are you sure he'll be completely safe?" Polly asked, her voice more urgent as she grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to her.

"Yes, he will be, I promise," Delilah answered with a reassuring smile. "I won't let him leave my side, I'll even hold his hand the whole time if it's what it takes. I will take care of him and he will be home before it gets dark, don't worry yourself about that."

Polly nodded and let go of the redhead's arm. Michael had slammed the door a few seconds prior, getting out of the betting shop to breathe — understandably. Delilah understood the boy's curiosity; living with gangsters must be very appealing, especially when you aren't one yourself. However, she understood Polly's concern more than anything: she had just reunited with her son and he was already asking her to accompany them right into the den of danger.

"Andiamo!" Delilah exclaimed, gesturing for her brother and Milo to follow after her. Thomas grabbed his coat and shrugged it around his shoulders, trailing behind the trio towards the prison.

Four dark figures walked side-by-side down the paved street, Delilah walking ahead of them. She was determined, concentrated. Her right hand was wrapped around a wad of cash securely hidden in the warmth of her coat pocket while her chest seemed to ignite in Hell's blaze. She had never heard about the telegram or Sabini's threat. Now that she knew about it, she could only acknowledge the fact that he could succeed if he truly wanted to.

They stepped into the prison, Delilah's high heels clicking against the tiled floor. She stopped by the warden's office, a honey-like grin forming on her lips — sickeningly sweet, almost deadly.

"We are here for one of our men," the redhead explained, exiting the cash from her pocket and slamming it against the wooden bureau. "And this should pay his bail. So you can save the paperwork and we'll visit him, alright? It should leave you enough time to come up with an explanation as to how unknown men can break into a prison, get into a cell and cut an inmate's throat without you noticing."

The warden nodded quietly, awkwardly sliding the money towards him and counting it. Delilah scoffed at his antics, earning herself a glare from her older brother before the man before them decided it was, indeed, enough cash and slid a key towards her. She didn't even thank him, only walking away silently. They walked down a staircase, the dark walls cold and slightly damp, and they finally reached the downstairs, with the row of cells.

The second Delilah walked down the corridor, men were pressing themselves against the chilly bars, their bodies almost melting into the iron. Some of them even outstretched their arms in her direction, immediately blocked by the three men walking by her sides, Thomas being the closest while Angelo shot his ultimate murderous glance their way.

The redhead stopped in front of a cell, a few barking sounds booming around the prison while she slid the key in the lock, opening the door and stepping inside the cell. A man was sitting on the hard ground, curled up and sobbing in his crossed arms. When he heard the woman walking towards him, he threw himself further into the tiny room, pressing his body into the walls.

"Stay away from me," the man's trembling voice ordered and Delilah ignored him, getting closer and closer until she was close enough to stare into his eyes.

"I am Delilah DeLuca," she greeted, crouching to be at the same eye level. "And I'm here to liberate you, but first, I need to know who murdered your friend last night."

The Digbeth Kid's dried blood still coated the concreted floor, red against the grey. She could imagine his corpse lying there while his friend had to watch everything, only staying alive to pass a message. He very well could have died instead, but he had been lucky enough to be seen as useful.

"I don't know who they were," the man cried, his dark eyes lowering to meet his shoes shamefully.

"Can you describe them to me?" the redhead demanded, her voice soft and calm.

The man took a moment to think about the guys' faces. He barely remembered them, trauma erasing their cruel features to replace them with the tortured screams of the Digbeth Kid being assassinated right under his eyes. He sobbed once more, running his hand down his face, and when one of the strong guys behind the redhead tried to move forward, she outstretched her hand behind her back to stop him in his tracks. The man thought he recognized Thomas Shelby.

"One of them was a—a brunette," the man spoke, earning an approving nod from Delilah. "Blue-eyed, spoke Italian too. The other one was a blondie, taller than you, with green eyes. A heated look, he was enraged. Deadly."

"A blonde one?" Delilah asked, unsure whether she had recognized the man's description as the guy she was thinking about. "Are you sure he's not kind of brunette too?"

"Maybe," the man said, his trembling vocal cords making it hard to understand him. "It's dark down here, a—a—a—and I was so scared —"

"It's okay," Delilah assured, placing a hand on the man's shuddering shoulder. "It's good enough, thank you. You can get out of here as soon as you feel ready to leave."

Delilah stood up, her hips swaying as she broke past Thomas and her brother, walking through the hallway under the inmates' curious glances. Her face only radiated fury as a precise face flashed in her mind. It couldn't be him; but at the same time, it could have. He had always been that unstable piece of shit everyone hated, too hot to handle and too reckless to control.

"I know who it is," she said when they made their way upstairs. "Fottutto Giuseppe."

Angelo shivered at his sister's low tone. The last time they had heard about Giuseppe, he was in prison — way before their departure for Birmingham, he had killed a man in the middle of the street, stupid boy. If someone hated Giuseppe's guts, it was Delilah; she couldn't believe he had done this. Fucking around to make his way within her life again, after everything that had happened.

If it was, indeed, Giuseppe who had attacked the Digbeth Kid, then he was most likely going to make an appearance soon. Maybe even sooner than any of them could have expected.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

"I can't believe you fucked him," Milo said over the booming music in the Garrison, holding a pint in his right hand and a cigarette in the left one.

"I can't believe we are still talking about this," Delilah sighed, bringing her glass of whiskey to her lips. "My brother is fucking Lizzie Stark but I'm the one everyone is talking about."

"He told me he wanted to marry her," the dark-haired man scoffed. "Do you also want to marry Thomas Shelby, Delilah?"

The redhead rolled her eyes, swallowing a swing of whiskey before drifting her eyes towards the people accumulated by the counter. Arthur was serving glasses hastily, probably high on Tokyo again and Finn was lingering beside his older brother, probably hoping to be served by the man. John had come home to Esme and the kids earlier in the evening, pretending Esme had yelled all day long for him to help her with the children or she'd leave that same day. Angelo was sitting on a stool beside Lizzie Stark, sharing a cigarette with the younger brunette and speaking indistinctly about something — probably a marriage, if Milo was right.

Finally, Thomas had asked to be left alone for the night, no doubt preparing everything for the auction the following morning. A lot of people were to come, starting with Charlie and Curly, who would help with checking on the horse. Angelo and Milo had agreed to come, as well as Arthur and John. Of course, the two gang leaders were expected and, finally, Michael had been pleased to learn he would be babysat by Delilah all day long but could at least make an appearance at the auction.

"Who even talked about marriage, here?" the redhead sighed, putting her glass down on the table.

"You love him, don't you?" Milo demanded, his voice soft and confidential. After all, he was her best friend.

"I don't know about love anymore," Delilah confided, shrugging her shoulders. "All I know is that I kind of lose control around him and I don't like it. What I like though, is everything else. So, you tell me. Is it love?" Milo pursed his lips but before he could reply, she shook her hands in front of her. "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Why do you always have to deny your feelings like this?" Milo roared, slamming his fist on the table. "Why can't you just admit that you're feeling something and move on? You won't always be in control of everything and trust me, love can be fabulous. What are you scared of?"

Delilah hadn't always been scared. There had been a time where she had loved and loved, passionately and insanely. It had been the best years of her life and it had been over in the blink of an eye. As soon as her loved one had departed for the war and she had realized they hadn't had what they used to have for a while, she had decided to give up. Enrolling and getting shipped away to France, she had forgotten everything about the man, even the sound of his voice and the colour of his eyes, replacing every happy memory they had shared by a memory she wished she'd erased.

She had loved him, and everyone had known. They had even wanted to marry each other one day and the plans had drowned in the sea as soon as his boat had left the coast. There would never be love anymore, only trauma and fear. Tears she didn't want to spill in front of someone she used to laugh with, so she moved on and had stopped loving anyone besides the people she truly needed. Her family, her best friend, and that was it.

But Thomas had blown up all her protective walls, made his sneaky way inside the garden of her heart and had planted a tiny seed. There, it had flourished into a strong but tiny tree delivering the precious and sinful fruit of love, making the feeling boil into her veins and breaking step by step each one of the rules she had so solidly built to protect herself from devastating heartbreak. Never in her life did she want to see a beloved human being depart and leave her behind, clueless and crushed by sadness.

"I'm scared of heartbreak, I believe," Delilah responded, lighting up a cigarette. "I am scared of loving too deeply, of caring too strongly and being left behind again. I don't want to give my whole self for someone to dispose of, I am scared of people taking control of me."

"You can't always control everything, baby," Milo said while bringing his hand to hers, holding it softly. "And you have to let some people in to feel something. Love is beautiful, it doesn't always hurt and sometimes you even find someone who will worship everything that you are and hold you so fuckin' high. At first, I thought he might just fuck around with you but I don't believe it anymore."

"Yeah, alright, fucking cheesy stuff," the redhead laughed, rolling her eyes and crushing her cigarette in the ashtray on the table. "You only say that because people believe we're dating. Se vuole sbarazzarsi di me, baby?"

Milo laughed, his white teeth showing and the signet ring around his index finger shining under the Garrison's lights. His slick black hair fell in front of his eyes when he lowered his gaze to meet hers again, quickly running a hand through the strands to rearrange them.

"I wish we were dating, baby," he chuckled, grabbing his pint and clinking it against her empty glass of whiskey. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Delilah rolled her eyes but didn't add anything, simply glancing at her brother at the counter behind them, laughing with Lizzie as Arthur spared them a softened glance. The moment Angelo's hand was raised to replace a piece of Lizzie's ebony hair, Delilah realized love had many ways. One of them was tenderness, one of them was humour, one of them was secret. Delilah had loved Thomas in secret for a long time now, and it seemed he had done the same. As for Milo, not so much — he had loved her through their friendship, slowly letting the romantic feeling wash away.

"One day, someone will worship your ground the way you wish I would do," Delilah stated confidently, standing up from the table and grabbing their empty glasses. "You deserve just that, and that day, everything will be fine."

"Why don't you let Thomas do just that, Della?" Milo asked gently, standing up as well to guide her through the crowded pub.

"I might do just that, you know," the redhead responded with a shrug, placing the glasses on the counter and waving at their friends, signalling their departure. "Not now, though. I mean, I want to, but you know, I need to be sure that everything will be just fine."

Milo laughed and held the door open for the redhead to get outside, a cigarette already perched at the edge of her plump mouth. Delilah lit it up, outstretching Arthur's golden lighter towards him — she had never given it back, loving it too much for Arthur to waste it. The flames danced in Milo's dark orbs and Delilah wondered why she had never fallen in love with him. He was everything a woman could wish for: gentle, caring, always giving everything he could for the persons he loved.

She guessed it was the easiness of this relationship that drew her away from him. Thomas was much more complicated, she hadn't known him since birth and her father had never expected her to marry him. Everything Thomas was, her family despised; everything he was, she couldn't help but adore. A Greek God she would willingly pray down on her knees in a decorated church or in a dark closet; she'd give him her burning devotion and unceasing admiration.

"You can never be sure that everything will be fine, baby," Milo indicated, smoke exiting his mouth as he spoke. "You are only wasting time worrying about what the future could bring to you while fate had obviously predicted your encounter. What else could you wish for?"

Her hands were to be clean from the blood she had accumulated there throughout the years of business. A clear conscience that would let her sleep peacefully at night. A mind clear from the memories of Verdun and from Henry's voice. A heart that would beat steadily and wouldn't wish for a delightful eternal rest every now and then.

"To be able to love flawlessly and to let people love me, even more when I love them in return," Delilah replied, raising her eyebrows.

"Nobody's flawless, Della," he responded vaguely, staring at the heavy sky on the horizon. "You're not, I'm not, no one's perfect. It's too late to wish for an unbroken heart or an unshattered soul. You are who you are and you're absolutely enough that way. Give him your heart, he deserves it, just like you deserve his. It's not like he hadn't already given it to you anyway."

Delilah scoffed but didn't reply. Instead, she linked their arms and rested her temple on his upper arm, the only place she could reach due to their height difference, and enjoyed the breeze in her hair. Yes, maybe Milo was right. Maybe her poor soul deserved some rest, and he was right to assume it was in Thomas's bed sheets she had found it.

Milo was always right when he spared her some advice, and she was right when she gave him some. It was why they were friends: they knew each other too well. There would never be any surprises between them, they could read each other like open books. And they liked each other that way; they were absolutely perfect like that, knowing each other's weaknesses and raising one another high enough to reach their biggest dreams. They loved one another fraternally, deep enough to be marked in each other's hearts, but not enough to share the same bed.

At least, they could still share a bottle of whiskey — and that's what they did. 

ITALIAN WORDS : 

Buongiorno, mamma = good morning, mom

Mio Dio = my God

Famiglia prima di tutto =  family first

abbiamo un problema = we have a problem

figlio di puttana =  son of a bitch

Ti voglio tanto bene = I love you so much

Andiamo = let's go

Se vuole sbarazzarsi di me = If you want to get rid of me