23; a filly and some jealousy


















THE CAR WAS SLOWLY MAKING ITS WAY UP POLLY'S NEIGHBOURHOOD, THE WINDOW OPEN BY HER SIDE WHILE THE SIX BOYS PILED UP IN THE BACK OF THE CAR. Well, it was more a little truck than it was a car, but it was enough room for everyone to get in and that was more than enough. John had negotiated with Thomas to drive to Polly's house, assuring to give back the steering wheel to his older brother to hit the road to the auction, and Delilah had very obviously gotten the passenger side. With her beige silk dress and the white fur coat around her shoulders, it simply was out of the question for her to sit in the back.

As soon as the brick house came into view, John blew the car horn, the noise echoing all through the paved street right into Polly's and Michael's ears. Delilah chuckled as the car stopped, John still pressing on the horn, and Polly appeared at the front door right as the redhead put her heeled feet on the asphalt ground.

"Fucking bastards," Polly cursed, approaching the car with a little grin on her face. "I can't believe you let this happen, posh girl."

"I think I might be adopting Birmingham's ways after all," the redhead chuckled, her arms wrapped around Michael when he approached her. "You can sit in the back with the boys, love."

Michael nodded and made his way behind the car, Arthur and Angelo sliding on the further left to leave him enough room. Polly's hand gripped Delilah's wrist and pulled her closer, glaring at her impatient nephew waiting by the driver's side.

"Everything will be fine," Delilah assured, slowly breaking from Polly's harsh touch. "If anything happens, I will hold myself accountable and face the consequences, alright? He'll be fine."

Polly nodded and waved at her son while Delilah walked back into the car, easily sliding beside Thomas. She settled herself in the seat and waved at Polly when the woman started to disappear in the rearview mirror, alone in the middle of a posh neighbourhood and under the heavy rain clouds above their heads.

"So, what do you do when you're driving so much?" Michael asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Well, it depends," Angelo responded, raising a dark eyebrow at his younger sister.

"Most of the time, we listen to Arthur's jokes and stories and believe it or not, it makes the trip far longer," the redhead laughed, making the boys chuckle whilst Arthur hit her shoulder. "Or we play card games, except Thomas who's driving all the time. And sometimes but that's rare, we sing. What would you like to do?"

Michael took a moment to reflect on the question, biting at the corner of his lips. Delilah grabbed a cigarette and outstretched one to the driver beside her, throwing the pack in the back for the boys to help themselves.

"We could each tell a story and the rest of the car has to tell whether it is true or false," Michael suggested, Arthur snickering beside him. "I used to play that game with my younger brother, it could be fun."

"I agree," Delilah immediately supported the younger member of the group. "Would you like to start?"

He nodded and another second passed by. He was thinking about everything he had done in his life, surely it was nothing compared to what these people had gone through. He could come up with a lie, but he didn't want to start this game with a made-up story. He wanted them to get to know him a little better and learn about what his life was in his village.

"One day, my uncle taught me how to ride horses," Michael started, the memory displaying in his brain being simultaneously the best and the worst ever. "We went to ride somewhere by the beach and my horse got crazy when a wave touched his hoof. I fell down on a rock and broke my arm as well as one of my teeth. Fortunately, it was just a baby tooth."

"I think it's false," Milo hesitantly spoke, pursing his lips when he thought about what Michael could be lying about in the statement. "You don't live by the beach."

"Shut up!" Delilah exclaimed as Thomas laughed behind the steering wheel, glancing at the redhead when she spun around and hit Milo's shoulder light-heartedly. "Have you ever heard about horse trailers? God, I don't even understand why Daddy sent you to the racetracks in London!"

Milo grumbled as Delilah rolled her eyes. Angelo and Arthur chuckled silently and muttered things about Milo being a stupid asshole, the dark-haired Italian cussing the redhead for attracting that much attention on him. Michael's smile grew wider when he realized he was slowly making his way through the boys' hearts, knowing he had already won Delilah's heart — fraternally, that is.

"It was true," Michael said with a giggle, pointing his index finger towards Milo. "It's your turn to tell a story."

"Okay, but Delilah knows everything about my life and that is cheating, right?"

"I won't say anything," the redhead promised with a wink. "I might just make the wrong guess, we never know."

"It was a few months ago," Milo started with a frown, playing with his signet ring. "I was in London and it was in the middle of the night, I was waiting for a business partner. I waited for an hour before he came and I didn't have time to react before he shot me —"

"Perché cazzo menti sempre così?" Delilah exclaimed, making her brother burst out laughing. "Don't you think we'd all know if you'd been shot a few months prior? You stupid bitch!"

"Well my life is fucking miserable, if you have anything better just fucking say it already, stronza del cazzo!"

"Yeah, I have better stories than you being shot while we all know here you haven't taken any bullet since 1919, idiot!" Delilah snapped, the palm of her hand hitting his forearm. "I've been fucking kidnapped at eight years old by a rival gang in Sicily, that's a bloody great story!"

At that point, Michael was unable to understand half of what the Italians were saying, trying his best to follow the conversation. Thomas was sharing amused glances with his brothers in the back while Angelo was hysterically laughing, sometimes bumping into Arthur's shoulder.

"You understand why we avoid playing games at all costs?" Arthur asked Michael, the youngest of the group apologetically smiling. "These fucking people are unbearable."

"Your stories are unbearable and most of the time we ain't even listening to you but nobody says anything," Delilah exclaimed, a glint of playfulness glimmering in her green orbs. "So don't try and tell me you can't stand us when in reality without us your life would be as miserable as Milo's."

"My life is insufferable and you are a part of it, maybe you should wonder about that," her best friend scoffed, earning herself a well-deserved glare.

Charlie Strong chuckled as Curly struggled to contain his laugh while Thomas turned the steering wheel on the right, parking on the side of the road. He exited the vehicle and slammed the door behind him, letting Delilah open the passenger door on her own. Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she joined the dark-haired male at the back.

"She's heating up, Curly," he said, raising an eyebrow when Angelo and Arthur snickered. "Take a look."

"Are you sure you're talking about the car, Tommy?" Arthur commented, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"You're so very funny Arthur," the redhead responded, rolling her eyes, though a tiny smile worked its way on her plump lips.

Charlie pushed past her, excusing himself for a piss. As Thomas outstretched his cigarette towards Delilah, Michael opened his bag and exited a cloth. When he opened it, all eyes fell on a few sandwiches obviously made by his mother. He glanced at the people around him, a sweet grin parting his mouth as Delilah blew her smoke towards the sky.

"She made loads," Michael giggled, amused by his mother's worry. "Do you want one?"

"What the bloody hell is that?" Arthur asked, his eyes focused on the sandwiches while John curiously glanced at the car to see what the fuss was about, his cigar hanging at the edge of his mouth.

"Sandwiches," Michael answered, offering one to Delilah who nodded her head and took it. "Ham, I think. We've got shrimp paste too."

Arthur turned to his younger brother and John approached the car with a smirk. It was unusual for Polly to prepare anything for the boys since they were more than able to fend for themselves whenever they needed it — and she wasn't their mother, regardless of how she basically raised them.

"There's tea but we'll have to take turns 'cause there's only one cup," Michael carried on, only noticing their surprised gazes on him when John snatched the cup of tea and opened it. "What?"

"Polly made bloody sandwiches?" Arthur asked, bringing smiles to everyone's lips. Even Thomas was smiling at this, glancing at his uncle.

"What's this?" Charlie asked, the fuming bottle of tea resting between his hands. "Teddy Bear's fucking picnic?"

"All right, we will drink the tea and we will eat the sandwiches," Thomas commanded, gesturing towards everyone with his cigarette, ending with Delilah who was already biting down on the food. "And then we will drive on. No crumbs Charlie."

Thomas walked away from the group and as Delilah was about to bring the sandwich to her lips again, John snatched it from her and all but engulfed it. Milo chuckled and Delilah slammed the back of her hand into John's chest, the noise of their bones collapsing catching Thomas's attention.

"For fuck's sake it was good!" the redhead complained, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You need to fit in your dress now, don't you?" John laughed, swallowing the mouthful of a sandwich while a gasp escaped Delilah's lips.

"Now that is vile," the woman whispered, placing her hands on her stomach with a frown. "Even for you."

Delilah moved to the little forest beside the road, her heels sinking in the ground. She could hear John apologize behind her but she didn't pay attention, only listening to the murmur of the leaves brushing in the wind. Her pale hand reached for a slim trunk, wrapping around the wood as she crouched down. Her eyes stared at a yellow flower, the only blooming plant in the soil. Her manicured fingers grabbed the flower delicately, merely caressing the soft petals.

"Lilah!"

The redhead jumped, spinning around and searching for the shiny car through the forest. Once she spotted it, she walked back towards the road, finding John, Arthur, Angelo and Thomas frowning.

"We've been calling for almost five minutes," Arthur explained, motioning for her to get in. "Where were you?"

"Nowhere," she answered, slamming the passenger door and ignoring the lingering gazes of her brother. "I just thought I saw someone, but I didn't. No more story competition, alright?"

Everyone laughed, except John. He tapped her shoulder hesitantly and when she turned around with an eyebrow raised, he reached out for her hand, letting a yellow flower drop in her palm. Delilah's face lit up and she squeezed his hand in thanking, deciding to forget whatever he had said earlier. She entangled the flower in her red hair, trusting her friends to tell her if it was too ugly.

She leaned back in her seat, listening to her friends animatedly talking in the back of the car, sometimes letting out a light-hearted laugh at an anecdote or a joke. Thomas spared her a few glances, a smile sometimes forming on his face while listening to the boys talking and seeing her slowly falling back into a light mood.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

When they arrived at the auction, they were almost late. The building was old but pretty, with a few stained-glass windows on the walls and a large staircase with a wooden railing, though the paint covering the marches was faded at some places. Delilah was leading the way, being the only woman, and Thomas was following closely, sometimes correcting her movements to reach the destination together.

"Alright boys and London girl, this is a respectable event," Thomas started when they walked up the first march. "And we'll behave accordingly. No weapons, no drinking! John, we will stay together."

"No posh mistresses, Johnny," Delilah joked, a laugh escaping her throat.

"When our horse comes up, I will do the bidding," Thomas carried on, ignoring the tiny redhead before him. "I've already registered my interest with the auctioneer, so he knows to expect my bids."

"Do I get to run a hand over her, Tommy?" Curly asked, his tone rushed as he joined his boss's side.

"We have a vet's report, Curly," Thomas responded, his hand wrapping around Delilah's waist as she headed to the right. "But keep an eye open when she walks."

Delilah avoided a man who was walking close to her and Thomas possessively brought her to his side, sliding his large hand in hers. The redhead could already feel the boys' burning eyes on their joined limbs but she desperately wanted to escape the hungered glances.

"You don't even look at them," Thomas whispered in her ear as they walked through double doors, joining the balcony overlooking the arena where the horses were to march.

"I surely can do whatever I want to do," she responded with a smirk, enjoying the way his fingers tightened around her own. "You are lucky to be more interesting than them, otherwise it probably wouldn't be the same story."

Thomas was the luckiest for having her around, he knew that. It was engraved in his mind; he simply couldn't help his possessive habits and seeing these men staring at her openly as if they had the right was triggering. Who were they to even let their eyes wander to his divine creature when she was holding his hand and sticking by his side?

"I could probably say the same, love," he replied, turning towards Curly who was catching up with them again.

"I've got a feeling, Tommy. Something isn't right," the bald man stated, fiddling with his own fingers.

"It's all right, Curly," Thomas reassured, his fingers never detaching from Delilah's. "You're just in an unfamiliar place, we all are."

They arrived at the balcony where everyone was reunited, staring at the horses marching in the riding arena. A dark-brown horse was walking around, his reins held by a man in a black suit.

They stopped by the wooden railing, Thomas's arms trapping her between them when he placed his hands on the railing, leaving just enough space for her to lean against the surface. Her hair fell in soft waves in her back as she rested her arms on the railing, her green orbs descending to stare at the wonderful beast. She felt the dark-haired man's chest against her back as he leaned forward, whispering in her ear.

"Wait until you see her."

Chills ran down her skin when his breath fanned her cheek, his deep voice a trap she would gladly fall in at that moment. The auctioneer's voice rang through the building as a few people bid on the horse. It took a few moments for a buyer to be chosen, and they quickly moved on to the next beast.

The following horse was a pure beauty. A true glamorous beast, holding its head high and walking so graciously it could only be trained. Its fur, made of a dark grey turning black at the end of his paws, contrasted with the blackness of its tail, which ended in the purest white. Its mane was also of a beautiful light shade, though the roots were of the blackest coal. She was the most amazing horse Delilah had ever seen.

"All right, Tommy, this is her," Charlie identified, pointing at the mare downstairs.

"Oh my God, Tom," she murmured, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she followed the animal's movements around the arena. "She's fucking unbelievable."

Thomas shifted behind her, straightening up slightly and closing the distance between their two bodies at the same time, and he grabbed the lit cigarette hanging at the corner of her mouth to bring it to his. He had a lot of trouble hiding the smirk on his face — seeing Delilah so amazed by the divine animal made him want to kiss her then and there.

Nothing was sharper than a Gypsy's eye, especially when detailing a horse's step. Thomas and his family were careful about everything: how the mare unfolded her paw, how her head moved when she marched, how her tail helped her balance herself. Nothing could be missed or misinterpreted, it was their only chance — the only one they needed to make it right.

And then, Thomas started bidding. Silently, only nodding his head with every growing price, and only one other man was competing with him. Delilah glared at their opponent at one point, barely registering the posh brunette standing beside the older man. Anxiety rose between the group, Thomas running his thumb across his bottom lip — a habit he had whenever he was nervous. He even placed his hand on Delilah's wrist and tightened it until she jumped slightly because of the force, immediately removing his limb from her in fear of hurting her.

"Della," Angelo whispered, joining her side, "isn't that May Carleton?"

The redhead lowered her eyes to the woman Angelo was staring at. The petite brunette was unmistakable, with her dark clothes and matching hair, her eyes focused on Thomas behind her. Her husband had passed away a few months prior, or maybe it had been years, Delilah couldn't really remember, and she recalled her parents being invited to the funeral. She had been there, had pretended to care and had asked her how she was feeling — nothing out of the usual. It wasn't that she hated her, it was more that she was uncaring of the brunette.

"You're right, it's her," Delilah responded, noticing how May's dark orbs shifted to meet her green ones.

It was like a boxing match, the increasing amount of money and the need of the filly turning both parties into a solid opponent for the other. Delilah just knew Thomas wouldn't let go of the mare, he had been very clear: they were taking her to the Epsom Derby. If he lost the horse to someone — especially to May fucking Carleton —, they were screwed. Whatever that woman wanted, it couldn't be good if she had decided to compete with them.

"Fucking beat 'em," Delilah commanded, catching Tommy's eyes on the side of her face. "I'll add whatever extra money you'll need."

"Would you happen to know her?" Thomas asked, his eyes drifting to the brunette woman.

"That I fucking do," Delilah answered with a mischievous smirk. "Keep staring, darlin'. She turns prettier the more you look at her."

"Does she?"

"Keep looking and you will see it," she affirmed, her voice dripping venom as much as it dripped honey. "You will thank me later, I promise."

The price climbed and Thomas kept bidding, knowing Delilah would eventually fill his needs of money. May kept going, bidding and bidding against the Shelby man, and Delilah shifted between his arms.

"Careful, love," Thomas whispered in her ear once the auctioneer started talking again.

"Or else what?" Delilah retorted, not even sparing a glance towards May Carleton. "You'll fuck me rough?"

"Would it keep your bratty attitude in your head?" Thomas demanded, his voice so low it was a wonder it could be understandable. "'Cause if it does, I just might."

"Isn't that why you like me?" Delilah replied with a devilish grin, one that turned her into a she-devil Thomas himself was scared to deal with. "Because I am that unpredictable, short-tempered, powerful woman?"

Thomas's cerulean eyes glanced down at her, barely moving his hand to specify he was carrying on with the bidding. Delilah looked so confident, boldly assuming he liked her enough to let her have her way with him — at the same time, she was rightfully thinking so. He was weakened whenever these emerald orbs would look at him, whether hatefully, adoringly or angrily. He was consumed, whatever emotion it might be by.

"Oh, the things I'd do to you," he whispered, leaning forward as if ready to kiss her.

Instead, the redhead tiptoed, her lips approaching his cheek which she kissed, before murmuring in his ear, right as the auctioneer spoke as well:

"Sold."

And it felt like he had just sold his soul to the motherfucking devil.

Delilah exited the prison of his arms, motioning for her brother and best friend to start moving. Michael joined her side, offering her his forearm which she gladly took, swaying her hips with every step she made. She deserved the burning fire of Hell but everything Thomas wanted her to have was blissful Heaven.

They waited for Thomas to sign the papers in the auctioneer's office, certifying that the mare was now his, and Delilah spent the entire time chatting with the Shelby's cousin, ignoring Thomas and everyone around her, only focusing on Michael. She'd sometimes glance around the group, as if expecting someone to disappear or an unknown member of the group to return, and everyone was set on edge because of her odd behaviour.

When Thomas exited the office, they all straightened their backs and turned around, ready to leave the auction building to pick up their new acquisition. Though Delilah hated to see animals as human properties, she couldn't help but feel relieved that they finally had it and were ready to bring it home where it belonged.

"Miss DeLuca!"

Delilah stopped in her tracks, imitated by all of the Shelby boys and the members of her clan. The redhead released a breath and cleared her throat, spinning around to face May Carleton — who else? —, smiling brightly at her old acquaintance.

"Miss Carleton," Delilah greeted, detaching herself from Michael — she didn't want to give the other woman the wrong idea concerning their relationship. "It's been too long."

"It has," May confirmed, taking a step forward. "I learned you moved to Birmingham in 1919. How is it going for you there?"

"Yes, we moved for business, it's actually flourishing," Delilah responded with a devouring grin. "Oh, I almost forgot! May Carleton, these are Arthur, John and Thomas Shelby, my business partners. I'm sure you remember Angelo, my brother, and this is Milo, my left-hand man."

May nodded as Thomas took a step forward, nodding towards the brunette. He was actually surprised she hadn't talked to him yet.

"A lot of people to encounter, then," the brunette chuckled. "I hope you will take good care of that filly of yours. I was hoping to win her for my stud!"

"She is in good hands, don't worry," Delilah assured, glancing at Thomas beside her.

Finally, May Carleton deigned to stare at Thomas Shelby, only now noticing how pretty he was in the full light. Though she had more or less understood what was going on between him and the redheaded woman, she couldn't help but feel jealous. How could she, the redhead everyone laughed about at nurse school, pull that guy and build an empire no one had ever succeeded building before?

"So, what is it that you do now, in Birmingham?" May asked, raising her dark eyebrows at her.

"A lot of things," Delilah sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "A lot of things, which you don't want to hear about in the middle of an auction building. Maybe you should stop by in Birmingham? So that we can talk about the things you would like to talk about."

"Will you let me see the filly, then?"

Delilah laughed, the melodic sound setting the brunette on edge. Once again, she wondered what had happened in the redhead's life that hadn't happened in May's. What did she miss? When did Delilah DeLuca turn into this magnificent creature, fueling both jealousy and admiration from everyone?

It wasn't just May, but absolutely everyone, and she hated that.

"I am not her owner, Miss Carleton," the redhead explained. "You should probably ask Mr Shelby about his availability so that you can meet about the horse. Though I must warn you, I require a lot of his time and it sometimes happens that I keep him in meetings since, you know, business is business."

"Business in or out of the bedroom?" May asked, making the boys behind them chuckle. Delilah had to admit, the brunette had grown some balls since the last time they had met.

"Don't ask about things you don't want to hear about," Delilah said with a wink. "It might ultimately hurt your feelings and I wouldn't want that for you. Now if you want to see the filly, you can reach out to Mr Shelby and, as I said, I'm looking forward to hearing from you in Birmingham very soon. But if you want your question truthfully answered, then business talks happen both in and out of the bedroom, and that's on being versatile."

Without waiting for an answer, Delilah spun on her high heels and walked back to the group of boys waiting for their leader. While the redhead guided herself downstairs into the riding arena, the boys ended up joining her, Thomas leading the way. She had expected a reaction from him but what she got was even better; he approached her, face emotionless and impassible and before she had time to register what was about to happen, he grabbed her face in one hand, holding it tight, and brought her lips to his harshly, their teeth colliding.

"For fuck's sake, get a bloody room," John mumbled as he walked past them, bumping his shoulder in Delilah's.

"I don't want to hear you talk like that ever again," Thomas said firmly within their harsh kiss. "Is that clear?"

"Just because you are rough and you are sleeping beside me doesn't mean you get to control me," Delilah whispered back, her teeth biting down on Thomas's bottom lip. "If I want to show an attitude, if I want to be harsh, it is about me. Not about you. You don't get to control what I'm doing just because you're fucking me."

Thomas's hands pulled her hair to force her to meet his eyes, hoping she would cave in his authority, but she didn't, maintaining their eye-contact as long as she could. Which only lasted a few minutes, until a hand forcefully pushed her to carry on her way through the hallway to the riding area, John's mouth parting in a sigh.

Delilah followed after the youngest Shelby, linking her arm with Michael's just in case. Thomas stayed close, close enough to protect her if it ever came to it. When they stepped into the open-spaced stables, they noticed a man sitting alone at a wooden desk, wearing a grey suit and a hat on his head. Neither of them could see his face just yet, but as soon as they approached the stable to pick the horse up, the man stood up from his seat.

"Thomas Shelby?" he asked before pointing a gun at the Peaky boy's face.

Arthur reacted faster than any of them could, grabbing the man's arm and directing it towards the ceiling where the shot wouldn't hurt anyone — especially not his brother. Thomas grabbed Delilah to pull her to the ground as the redhead's body shielded Michael as much as she could, her ears ringing when the shot escaped the gun. Men started coming from every corner of the stables, wearing dark matching suits and forcing all of the boys — and Delilah — to exit their own weapons. Even Charlie fired at an enemy, yelling for his nephew to stay safe — which he obviously didn't listen.

Arthur was beating the man on the ground, his knuckles splitting open and his victim's face soaked in red. Michael's eyes widened while Delilah raised her gun and spun around, careful not to miss a single enemy. Arthur even went as far as biting down on the man's neck to take out a part of his carotid, which obviously failed when his brothers finally took him away from the unconscious body. Thomas strangled him, slowly decreasing the oxygen in his brain and forcing him to calm himself down. Dead bodies laid around the riding area and Delilah felt her heart beating faster in her ribcage.

That was until she felt a sharp pain in her upper arm. 

Her delicate hand raised to the throbbing part of her body as her green eyes stared at the stranger on the other side of the room. Even from here, she could recognize him and she cursed herself for believing he wouldn't show up, in the end. Giuseppe Sabini was standing before her, raising his now empty palms in the air while his knife lay on the ground, droplets of blood staining the fabric of her dress.

She raised her gun, forgetting about the dull ache in her arm and shot him right in the shoulder, making sure he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone but would stay alive enough time to bring him back to Birmingham and get some answers from him. 

"What the fuck is that?" John asked when Delilah ran to Giuseppe's side, bringing her hands to his bleeding wound and pressing them to avoid any deadly blood loss. 

"I need him alive," she responded, her breath itching when she moved her left arm to grab her handkerchief. "He knows things we need to know about. Can someone fucking help me save his fucking life?"

"Fuck no," Angelo snapped, pushing her to the side and hurting her in the process. "Why the fuck would you save his life? Just fucking leave him to die!"

Delilah stood up, gritting her teeth, and snatched Angelo's collar. Her brother's face was only inches from hers as she all but scolded him like a mother.

"Listen to me, I still hold my grudges, alright?" the redhead affirmed. "But did you recognize that guy? It was Sabini's right-hand man, and he obviously will know things. Now, you don't want to help me with that guy, fuck off. I don't need any of you and I certainly aren't asking for any form of your help."

"Why would you hold grudges?" Thomas calmly asked, knowing where the conversation was going.

"You figured out so why are you asking?" Delilah stubbornly retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "If your emotions are too much to handle then I'm sorry, but I need him alive. That's all."

While Thomas turned around with a concealed scoff, yelling after Arthur and John not to get blood on Michael and checking on him, Delilah wrapped her white handkerchief around Giuseppe's shoulder, the man speaking indistinctly whilst she quietly worked. Once it was done and Giuseppe was unconscious out of pain, the redhead fell on the ground, brows furrowed and mouth parted. The cut wasn't that bad, only a few inches deep, but it was hurting like a bitch and she couldn't begin to imagine what it would be in a few hours.

"He hurt you," Thomas whispered as she stood up, holding his hand and bloodying his fingers.

"That's beside the point," she groaned, wiping her hands on her dress. "And I don't want to talk about it right now after being stabbed, shooting someone and your brother losing his shit in front of Michael.  Now, we can talk about it at home."

"At home?" Thomas scoffed, wrapping his hand around her bicep to stabilize her when she felt like falling backwards. "And where to, exactly?"

"Tom, listen —" 

Before she could finish her sentence, Delilah's knees buckled and she collapsed within his arms, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Probably the mix of the stab, the shock of seeing Arthur literally losing his mind for them all to see and Giuseppe's appearance at the auction had exhausted her to the point of fainting. Thomas lifted her against his chest, checking her breathing before throwing the car keys to a silent Michael. 

His cerulean eyes glanced at the unconscious body at his feet, hesitating to leave him to die here. After all, she couldn't do anything at the moment, limp in his arms. At the last second, he stared at Angelo and Milo, who were also looking at Giuseppe on the ground, and the two men nodded before moving to the blond man's side and lifting him from the ground. 

Needless to say, Giuseppe ended his trip in the trunk of the car and Delilah with her head on Thomas's knees while he caressed her face gently, trying to calm his nerves down and stop wondering what had happened between her and Giuseppe. 

After all, if she had said she'd talk, she would keep her promise.





DYLAN SPOUSE 

AS GIUSEPPE SABINI









ITALIAN WORDS:

Perché cazzo menti sempre così? : Why the fuck do you always lie like that?

stronza del cazzo! = fucking bitch!

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