Birmingham, England
1923

A man receives a letter.

Thomas
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There never was a wedding.

Thomas never recited his vows, nor did he wear a ring on his left finger. It was a damn shame he and Grace had sent out wedding invitations early, as he hoped no one would mistakenly arrive to a ceremony that would never take place.

It had almost been a year since Grace passed. It happened after the birth of their son, Charles, that she died due to complications-- or whatever the hell the shit doctor had told him. All Thomas ever heard was that Grace was gone, just gone.

In the beginning, Thomas was surprised at how well he had adjusted after her passing. With the help of a wet nurse, Thomas raised Charles on his own for the first year of his son's new life until the housekeeper came along. She was a tremendous help with the boy, along with the massive house Thomas had bought for the family he never had.

Still, it was a nice house. Thomas had worked hard to get where he was now, and he'd be damned not to appreciate it.

"Mr. Shelby, there's a letter here for you." Said the housekeeper, interrupting his train of thought.

The older woman swiftly entered the dinning room where Thomas sat at the head of the table with tea.

"Thank you, Mary." Thomas nodded, extending his hand.

Mary gave a curt nod before she turned on her heel and left. For a brief moment Thomas watched the woman go, wondering what could've prompted her to be so cold. Not that he minded it, for he knew he wasn't the happiest soul on Earth to begin with, but it seemed to Thomas that he had met his match.

With a soft grunt, Thomas turned his attention back to the letter at hand, skimming over his name and address until his eyes read who had sent it. His body turned rigid.

Caterina Marino.

Thomas struggled to breathe as he skimmed his fingers over the cream-colored envelope, memorizing her cursive as if it were sacred.

"Rina..." He whispered, slowly turning the envelope in his hand.

It took a while for Thomas to finally gather up the courage to rip the top apart and pry out the paper from inside. He willed his hands not to tremble as he brought the letter into view, reading it over and over again as if it were to incinerate at any moment. It read:

Dear Thomas,
     Two years is a long time, isn't it? I've been trying to write this letter for many nights now, and I think this one will be my last. I hope now that ample time has passed that you've forgiven me for leaving you without so much of a goodbye. I am also deeply sorry for what happened to Grace, and I hope you and your son are doing well. I hear he looks just like you.
     A lot has happened in my time away from England, and I plan to share it all with you, Thomas. I only hope that you'll let me.
     Love Always,
     Caterina Marino

P.S. By the time this letter has reached you, I will be in London. Yes, London, England. So be expecting a visit from an old friend soon.

Thomas was at a loss for words. She was here, in England. And despite himself, Thomas fought the urge to run to his car and leave right this second. For the woman he loved was only a few hours away.

So many questions ran rabid through his mind. What prompted her to come back? How long was she planning to stay for? Thomas wanted answers, and yet, Rina had not provided her address in London. But that didn't matter, for Thomas practically owned London and could ask any of his men to find her for him.

The only reason holding him back from doing it all was the fact that she planned to visit him. When, he did not know.

Thomas let out a frustrated groan, dropping the letter onto the table and running a hand over his face. He could feel himself growing mad over not knowing where she was or when she'd come. Patience was not a strong quality in Thomas and Rina knew that, she must have. Or else she wouldn't have been so vague without giving a good reason.

Yep, this was the Rina he knew; and she was back.

The beginnings of a smirk showed on Thomas's face as he reached into his shirt pocket for a smoke and a light. He wedged the cigarette between his lips and struck a match, catching the flame at the end.

After a few exhales, Thomas leaned back into his grand chair and propped his elbow on the arm, silently laughing to himself. After two bloody long years Rina had finally decided to show up again, in the midst of a business deal with the Russians, and an impending war against the Changretta's.

Rina had impeccable timing, he'd giver her that.

⚜️

Thomas arrived to the family meeting with a new perspective on things, now that he knew the woman he loved wasn't across the Atlantic anymore, but in his own backyard.

He passed Michael's office on the way in but when he heard someone make a run for it, Thomas turned on his heel to investigate.

"Going to introduce me, Michael?" He asked.

Polly's son exhaled smoke and cleared his throat, nodding to the young girl behind the glass door with his name on it.

"This is Charlotte Murray, her father makes cars." Michael said.

The girl, Charlotte, emerged from the shadows and timidly held out a gloved hand, but when Thomas didn't shake it, she pulled it back and said, "I really enjoyed your wedding, Mr. Shelby."

Thomas blinked back at her, noticing her pretty pink clothing and naive eyes. She thought Michael loved her, he could tell. If only she knew the truth about Shelby men, who were only capable of loving women who could hold a gun and pull the trigger.

Rina was one of those women, thought Thomas.

"Polly said that you should call her. There's been some trouble." Michael announced, fidgeting in his chair.

"What trouble?" Thomas inquired, averting his gaze from the girl.

Michael took another drag of his cigarette before responding bitterly, "I'm guessing it's stuff she doesn't like to tell me about."

Thomas nodded once and turned back to Charlotte.

"Nice to meet you." He said, and stepped out of the room.

When Thomas arrived at the family room, he overheard Arthur dismissing Finn from the meeting. That would not do.

"Finn, you can stay." He ordered. "Sit down, John."

His tallest brother sat down with his head bowed. John probably thought Thomas was going to scold him for cutting Angel Changretta, but what Polly and Arthur didn't quite understand was that he was here to do the opposite.

"John, you cut Angel Changretta. Even though Arthur told you to apologize."

John grunted in response.

"Polly told you to compromise."

Again, John grunted.

"You chose not to listen to Mr. Apologize or Mrs. Compromise. And now I have got an Italian walking around my backyard saying he's going to kill my brother." Thomas said, "So what do we do, John. Do we apologize or do we compromise?"

John said nothing, he only puffed his cheeks and raised his head high enough to look at his older brother and aunt sitting angrily at the table across from him.

Arthur sighed.

"Oh, it was just something John said as a joke."

Thomas lifted his head and gazed at his brother incredulously.

"Yeah, but he's your brother as well, Arthur."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. I know I didn't want to start a war over something John said without meaning it."

There was a pause. Thomas considered his next words carefully, trying to make a point.

"So should he apologize in Italian or in English? Or should we ask them which fucking language they prefer? I'm not clear."

Polly set down her cup of tea onto its saucer. She lifted a hand in protest and placed the other on Arthur's forearm.

"You said while this business was going on in London, you wanted peace at home." She clarified.

Thomas nodded. "And the only way to guarantee peace is by making the prospect of war seem hopeless. If you apologize once, you do it again and again and again. Like taking bricks out of the wall of your fucking house. Do you want to bring the house down, Arthur?"

Arthur turned away, groaning. Thomas knew how he despised being scolded, even as boys.

"If you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow." Thomas continued.

The eldest Shelby man got to his feet and repeated after Thomas, annoyed.

Thomas turned his attention back to John, who still sat in pensive silence at the table.

"You did the right thing, John." He assured him. "Now we go on the offensive. We take two of the Changretta pubs, and we take them tonight. That's it."

Thomas waved the butt of his cigarette in the air for emphasis and turned on his heel to leave. That is, until Polly threw up her arms and exclaimed, "Oh! Right. For Christ's sake, why?"

His heel dug into the wood and stoped him. Thomas whipped his head around with the smoke still wedged between his lips.

"Hey?" He bellowed.

"Why?"

"Why? Because we fucking can." Thomas explained. It seemed to him that for the next time he'd have to draw little pictures for them to better understand the position they were now in.

"Because we fucking can and if we can, we do. And if we lift our heel off their necks now, they'll come at us." He yelled.

"Remember these are the bastards that wanted Danny Whizz-Bang dead." Thomas reminded them. Danny was a war hero, a friend.

Arthur now paced up along the fireplace, listening.

Thomas lowered his voice an octave, "You're getting soft, brother."

Their eyes met. "Soft and weak. Save the bible for Sundays, eh."

Arthur said nothing.

"Finn?" Thomas said, "I need to get to Hockley and then home. It's been a long day."

With one last warning about tapped phone lines, Thomas turned on his heel and left with Finn following closely behind.

The drive was short and quiet, as Thomas was still baffled by his own family's inability to comprehend what was right before their own two eyes. Thomas had zero intentions of losing his lifestyle, but if his blood continued to turn the other cheek when conflicts arose, the Shelby family would not make it another day in their line of work.

They weren't secretaries or politicians, they were entrepreneurs from the wrong side of town and the world would never let them forget it. As result, in order to make it they'd have to be willing to get their hands dirty more often than not to keep what they have and more.

When Thomas finally did arrive home, however, he went straight to the dinning hall and took a seat on the table so that he could look upon the painting Rina left him those years ago.

If she were here with him now, what would she say? Would she scold him for being too harsh, or would she have been there at the meeting alongside him? He opted for the latter.

Thomas let out an empty laugh.

He could see her as clear as he saw the wondrous painting before him. Rina would've been by his side, putting his thoughts into words better than he could do himself. She always had a way with words, that woman.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

Thomas dug into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the sapphire he had ordered to be made into a necklace at a trusted jewelers in Hockley. He felt the weight of it in his palm and could only see one woman worthy of such a rare beauty.

His glossy blue eyes travelled back up to gaze upon the massive portrait and knew that if he went another day without seeing her, even if only for a moment, he'd go entirely mad in his empty fucking house.

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[ AU: hope you guys are liking the 3rd person narrative! let me know how it's going and if you have any thoughts! rina's chapter will be up tomorrow or the day after, so be on the look out for that. ]