It had been a while since she had lastly stepped into Tommy's office. Sullivan didn't know if he would come back from London this night or not, but had chosen to spend a part of her evening in here nonetheless.

She settled her tiny body into his chair, crossing her ankles on the wooden desk. She was feeling like the only girl in the world in this room, all cut out of the world. Only silence was filling the room, the only requested sense being her sense of smell. It was smelling like Tommy in here: a perfect mix of alcohol, cigarette, and freedom. It also looked like him, a perfect and stylish mess. Sully was glad she wasn't his secretary anymore when she took sight of the papers spread on his desk, her legs shifting from their position on his desk to the ground, the heels she was wearing making a soft noise when they touched the ground again.

Sully scanned the papers on the desk, her eyes following the curves of Tommy's scripture or his signature at the bottom of some contracts she didn't read. As the shop door flew open, Sullivan sneezed, groaning while the paper she was holding on her left hand, which rested on her lap, seemed to burn her palm.

The glass door open as Tommy pushed it, relief clear on his face when he spotted her and not Sabini. "You're not even knocking?" the blonde exclaimed, pushing away the papers from her, frowning as other ones appeared under them.

"You're in my bloody office," he retorted, watching as she lifted her eyes to meet his. "Besides, I thought you weren't working here anymore."

Sullivan chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Where else could I be with my man when he's away?" she asked, standing up dramatically. "Besides, your bloody secretary's sitting in my living room," she added.

Thomas scoffed, walking towards the seat she had just emptied, while she turned around, facing him. "The secretary you chose," he reminded her, sitting down. Sullivan crossed her arms on her chest.

"Touché," she muttered. She looked down at Tommy, a smile forming on her lips.

"I went to the Garrison," he announced, leaning backward in his leather seat. "Bloody mirror all gone."

Sullivan remembered the shot the woman fired, the noise of the broken glass falling on the ground. Most of all, she could picture the woman's expression with astonishing precision. She wondered if she should tell the truth; she decided she would. "No more secrets, eh?" she spoke up, laughing at herself. "The boy Arthur killed had a mother. With a bloody gun. She has balls."

"Did she hurt you?" Thomas asked in a heartbeat, his face darkened.

"Do I look hurt to you?" she replied with a scoff, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. "Though she did shot the mirror. She didn't do it on purpose," Sullivan said, cutting Thomas from his worried speech.

"What a woman," he commented, which made her laugh. "Why is Lizzie Stark in your bloody living room?"

"You just remembered that?" Sullivan exclaimed with a snort, the little paper she was still holding burning her palm harder. She put it down on the desk, Tommy's eyes following her movement. "To talk, though I'm pretty sure he's fucking her. I swear, if he asks me to marry her, I'll cut him."

"You almost agreed to let John marry her, but now you'll cut your brother?"

Sullivan clasped her hands in front of her. "John's not my brother but yours, though Carl is my bloody brother."

Tommy scoffed, standing up so his body was trapping her between the desk and himself. "So this is the way you're thinking?" he asked, leaning forward to kiss her.

"I know, what a shame, right?" she replied, one of her hands holding his jaw, the fingers that weren't her thumb pulled against his cheek.

Tommy laughed, the action warming up her heart. "What's that?" he demanded quietly, referring to the paper she had put down on his desk.

"My brother's present," she responded truthfully, because these were the words Carlisle had used earlier that day. "My parents' phone number. Carl said I should call them one day, just to hear their voices, y'know. Samual has kids now, three, and a wife."

Tommy smiled kindly towards her, sensing the careful need to know them arising from her. "Why don't you call them, then?"

Sullivan sighed, moving her hand from his jaw to his chest, perceiving his heartbeat under her palm. "I need time, a little more," she answered, trying her hardest to not sound rude with her following words. "They hurt me, but I know somehow the twisted part of my brain wants to know why they betrayed me like this."

Tommy laid down in his seat again, pulling the blonde towards him. "Come here, woman," he ordered, watching a shocked expression covering her features, quickly followed by chuckles.

"Alright, I know what you're up to, Mr.Shelby," she exclaimed, grasping his hand in hers. "You're not fucking me in your office."

He raised a challenging eyebrow, bringing her on his laps. "Watch me," Tommy spoke against her lips.

-----

Polly was on holidays. At least, this is what she had told her family about a week ago when Michael had come home. This was the reason why she was late for the family meeting Tommy had called, leaving her nephews and the Miller waiting for her impatiently.

Sullivan was standing beside Tommy, the man silent as he thought about some business he had left. The blonde looked at her brother, whom of which seemed to die from boredom. She outstretched her arm, making Carlisle look at her with questions in his eyes. "Play with me," she asked, motioning for him to play rock-paper-scissors with her.

He did and won. Three times. "You're cheating," Sully stated when he won for the fourth time, a laughter escaping Arthur's mouth.

"I'm not cheating," Carl defended, rolling his eyes at his sister. "You just suck at this game."

"That's not true," she argued. "I used to win against Finn."

Arthur snorted, catching the blonde's attention. "I'm sure he'll bloody beat you."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by his point. "Esme played with me the other day, and I won," she retorted.

"Nobody ain't playing," Arthur stated firmly, stepping towards the blonde.

"She does when she's bored," Sullivan retorted, frowning slightly. "By the way she swore in Romanian, I thought she was putting a fucking curse on me." The boys laughed around her, even Tommy let out a chuckle, listening to their conversation without interfering.

"I wish she had cast a spell to make you shut up," Arthur stated, nudging Carl's ribs.

Sully hit his chest playfully, "no one can make me bloody shut up," she retorted, laughing when the Shelby man winced.

"Unfortunately I already know that," he sighed, smacking the girl's shoulder amusingly. She opened her mouth to reply when the door went open, Polly storming into the room.

The woman seemed impatient to end this meeting, her hair flying around her head as she rushed towards them, sighing as she let her purse down on the table Tommy was leaning on. "This had better be good to interrupt my holiday," Polly spoke up, her voice tensed.

"Where's the boy?" Arthur asked, his eyes traveling from his friend's amused face to his Aunt's annoyed one.

"In the back room," Polly replied. "I only brought him because afterward we're going to the museum," she explained, her annoyance taking the best of her.

"He wanted to come in and say hello but -" John tried to speak, but Polly cut him off instantly.

"Shut up, John," she snapped, her chin held high as she spoke. "There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room. Tommy, get on with it."

Tommy cleared his throat, straightening from the table he was leaning against. "Last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winson Green. This morning, I had a telegram to say it was Sabini who ordered it." While Tommy exposed the situation, Carlise and Sullivan shared a glance, the newest member of the Peaky Blinders shoving his hands in his pockets.

"And it says here that Thomas Shelby's next," Arthur added.

"Of course he is," Sullivan mumbled, tightening her grip on the desk.

Arthur shot her a weird glance. "If our men think we can't look after them in prison, they'll not work for us," Tommy continued, nodding towards his brother. "Sabini knows that. So we need to get the Green sorted out. Scudboat, you and one of the boys. Break a couple of windows and get yourselves arrested. I'll have our coppers get you into the Green and you can find the bastards who did it."

Scupboat cleared his throat, stepping in the middle of the room. "Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car? What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car. I'm still on a donkey."

Sullivan laughed along with the others, pointing her finger to the man. "You got it," she exclaimed. "I want to see this."

"But you won't," Tommy replied, glancing at his girlfriend, not amused by Scupboat's words. Sullivan rolled her eyes, biting her tongue to stop a reply from exiting her mouth. "Just get yourselves fucking arrested, it doesn't matter how. And before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid. We'll start a fund for his family, Pol."

The kid's mother's face reappeared in Sully's mind, and she felt saddened. "Agreed," Polly affirmed with a nod. "So is that it? Can I go now?"

"Well," Tommy responded, his hands shoved in his pockets again, "as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend 1,000 guineas."

Polly's eyes widened. "On what?" she asked incredulously.

"On a horse," Tommy honestly revealed. Facing Polly's disbelief, he nodded, confirming his words.

"When was this decided?" the woman exclaimed, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You've been busy with Michael," Tommy replied. Polly repeated the amount of money, showing how disbelieved she was.

"Oh, my God," the brunette exclaimed. "So, in the absence of common sense, you boys have had an idea."

"Polly," Tom called, trying to keep her listening, "there's a thoroughbred quarter-Arab filly up for auction at the Doncaster Blood Stock."

Polly sighed, raising her arms in the air. "What do we want with a thousand guinea horse?"

"When we make our move on Sabini's racing pitches, any men we get into the betting enclosure will be lifted by Sabini's police," Tommy elaborated. "A good racehorse is a passport to the owner's enclosure."

"We'll be in there with all the toffs," Arthur continued. "Coppers won't know where to look."

"Yeah, the Epsom Derby, Pol," John exclaimed, excitement shining in his eyes. "We'll be drinking with the bloody King!"

Sullivan pursed her lips as John blushed, sensing the other Shelbys' glares on his face. "The Derby? Did he say the Derby?" Polly repeated, shocked.

Sully felt the woman's gaze on her. "Hey, don't look at me," she spoke. "You know I don't have a bloody say in it."

Tommy looked down at her, bumping in her side slightly to catch her attention. "I thought we agreed on it," he said softly.

"Let me get this straight, saying that I don't see anything against it ain't the same thing as saying that I'm okay with it," she clarified in a low tone, his frown deepening. "Besides, since when does Thomas Shelby needs anyone's permission?"

"We'll talk about this later," Tommy stated, looking back at Polly. "For the last ten years, Sabini's made it his race. If we're going to take him down, might as well make it there as a symbol."

"Did you come up with this idea in a pub by any chance?" Polly asked half-seriously, which made the blonde snort.

Tom glared at his girlfriend. "Pol a good racehorse is an investment, like property. We need to diversify the portfolio," he argued.

"So when is this sale?" the woman demanded, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Tomorrow," Tommy answered.

"And Tommy's had a death threat so we'll have to go with him for protection," Arthur added.

"So, you're going to close up the shop, go out on a piss-up and blow a thousand guineas on a horse that's not even whole Arab," Polly summarized, looking around her to gauge the reactions.

"Quarter Arab is better!" Curly exclaimed." Quarter Arab, it means -"

"Shut up, Curly," Polly ordered. The man did as told, used to her rudeness. They heard a metallic noise from the door, which opened to reveal Michael behind it, stepping into the room confidently. "I thought I told you to lock that door," Polly spoke accusingly towards John.

"He did," Michael spoke up, sparing them another argument. "I used the key on the nail. Look, I've been listening. I want to go with them."

Michael's confidence amazed Sullivan. "You see!" Polly exclaimed, glaring at Thomas.

"I love horses," Micahel persisted. "I could even help."

"Over my dead body," Polly spoke, glancing at the only other woman in the room for support.

"It'll be all right, Mum I've been to loads of horse auctions before with my uncle," Michael taled, the word 'mum' seeming to twist something in Polly's eyes. "They're very respectable. People bring their butlers."

"Yeah, and their posh wives!" Arthur shouted, nudging his brother playfully. Sully glared at him, realizing he wasn't helping the boy's case.

"And their mistresses," John added, chuckling with his brother. Considering he was right next to her while Arthur was a bit away, Sullivan slapped John's neck. "He said it first!" the man defended.

"Fucking shut up, idiots," the blonde muttered, trying to keep her poker face on.

John cleared his throat, placing his own serious face on. "Let him come, Polly. We'll go there, buy a horse, come back. I'll drop him back at the house in Sutton before it gets dark," Arthur stated, cutting his brother from speaking.

"No," Polly argued. "Fucking no."

"I'll go," Sully spoke up, annoyance clear in her voice. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"What?" Tommy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "We never agreed on that," he snapped.

"Yeah well, doesn't matter," Sullivan retorted with an eye roll.

"I don't if I trust you," Polly answered, though Sullivan saw she had made a point. "You let them came with that bloody plan, after all."

"Polly, I can't control everything," Sullivan sighed.

John laughed, catching the blonde's attention. "What do you even fucking control, eh?"

"Oh fuck," Arthur cursed, grasping his brother's shoulder harshly. "She's wearing the I'm-gonna-kill-you-Sally glare."

Sullivan rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. "You see what I'll bloody go through for your bloody son?" the blonde spoke, Polly's lips cracking a smile. "You'd better behave, boy."

"We're all bloody dead," John whispered though loud enough for Sully to hear him.

"You stay with him from the beginning 'till the end, you keep that pretty glare of yours if anyone try to drag him in some mess," Polly explained. "And I want him back before nightfall."

Sullivan shared a brief glance with Tommy and then John. "Agreed," she said. Polly smiled again, happy with their agreement. As everyone left the room progressively, Sully followed Arthur, only to be held back by Tommy. "Wait for me outside," the blonde asked Arthur, whom of which nodded, closing the door behind him.

"What's fucking wrong with you?" Tommy hissed, his face scrunched in a deep frown.

"Okay, first of all," she spoke loudly, "nothing will happen, because it's just buying a horse, not a very risky business," Sullivan tried to soothe him.

"Fuck this," he snapped. "You're not supporting me for the Derby."

"Woah, woah, woah", Sullivan exclaimed, raising her hands in front of him. "Jesus, where'd you get that?" she whispered, her voice hurt.

"I thought," he began but stopped talking, his frown growing even deeper.

Sullivan chuckled, running her hand through his hair. "You got it all wrong, Tom," she laughed. "I'll support you through everything, because this is what love is about. That doesn't stop me from being worried. Polly's worried for all of us, all of you boys, just like me." He smiled down, kissing her forehead gently.

"I'll charge Arthur to babysit you," he stated.

"And who's gonna babysit Arthur then?" Sully mocked.

"I hadn't thought it that far," Tommy admitted, playing with her blonde curls. "I'll come up with something tomorrow."

"Jeez, Thomas Shelby," she sighed, kissing his cheek.

"Time's fucking up!" Arthur shouted, slamming the door open and storming inside the room. "Sorry, brother, but I need my favorite barmaid now."

Sullivan laughed, breaking her embrace with Tommy. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then, lover boy," she exclaimed while Arthur dragged her out of the room, her laughe echoing through the room and the hallways, Tommy's heart beating on its rhythm.

Sullivan rushed to follow Arthur through the street to the Garrison. "So you're coming tomorrow, eh?"

"Arthur," the blonde called, slamming her hand on his upper arm, the highest part of her arm she could touch without tiptoeing, "looks like I'm back in the business, mate."

Arthur's loud laugh echoed through the street, flying away with the wind; telling to every people in the surroundings that the Peaky Blinders accepted some women and could even love them.

—

I SWEAR I'M GONNA FINISH THIS BOOK