CHAPTER TWELVE — feelings

' You're the lass I want. '

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Charlotte Williams sits in the now refurbished bidding room behind John Shelby's desk, while he stands up at the front, directing the working men. John looks over at her, smiling happily and she returns it, rolling her eyes jokingly at his giddiness.

Thomas had done many things to get the Peaky Blinder's money back. He left Charlotte out of it when he went to talk to the Lees Boys family, knowing she would probably blow up on them. And it was a shock to a lot of people when they entered the bidding room, to see everything replaced and as good as new.

Just outside the Shelby House, Thomas Shelby walks up to Billy Kimber's large car, knocking on the window before pulling open the door, allowing the two men inside to climb out.

"Mr Kimber," He nods, refraining from showing his anger, "Mr Roberts. Come and have a look around," He begins to head towards the home, flicking his head over his shoulder at the last moment, "But if you utter a word to Charlotte, don't be surprised if you get attacked. The men inside adore that woman, maybe even more than me."

Billy Kimber rolls his jaw, nodding slowly as Thomas opens the front door, letting him enter first.

Charlotte is now walking around the room, and her hand clamps down on Fred's shoulder, but before she can say a single word to him, her head snaps up to watch Thomas Shelby, Billy Kimber and his accountant work through the door.

Thomas catches her gaze, giving her a sharp look and she clenches her jaw, slowly returning to what she was previously doing while trying act like Billy Kimber isn't in the same room as her again.

"Fred, stop talking so much, otherwise you're jaws gonna snap off," She smiles, patting his shoulder, before pointing at the several men around the table, "Get back to work."

Charlotte Williams very rarely did anything to do with the betting. It wasn't her type of scene, and the only reason she agreed to help out today was because Harry had excused her from barmaiding for a few days because of the drunk Dave incident.

"We heard the Lees had turned you over," Billy says.

Thomas smirks, "You shouldn't listen to gossip, Mr Kimber." He walks past the man, walking towards a side room, "This way."

"Business is good," Kimber's accountant speaks up, "Especially since now you know which horse is going to win before you set the odds."

"You're information is very much appreciated," Tommy nods.

"Right. Well, where are they?" Billy grumbles, head tilting.

John let's out a howl of laughter form beside Charlotte, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and rubbing his knuckles against her head. She smiles, shoving him away lightly.

"John, Lovelock, Scudboat, in here!" Tommy directs loudly, silencing the room for a few moments.

John swallows thickly, widening his eyes at Charlotte and mouthing a small 'help' before he enters the room, composing himself once more. Charlie's curiosity is begging for her to go eavesdrop, but when Billy and his accountant leave completely and Thomas exits the room a few moments later, she decides to make her way over to him. Arthur slinks beside her in confusion.

"Gentlemen," Thomas calls, causing everyone to crowd around. He raises his two arms, motioning towards Charlotte and Ada, offering the blonde the warmest smile, "And ladies." He lifts up a sheet of paper, "I have in my hand a legal betting license. Issued by the board of control. The Shelby family has its first legal racetrack pitch."

The room bursts into an explosion of cheers, loud claps and ecstatic shouts. Thomas opens his arms wide out in front of him, allowing Charlie to run into them and wrap herself around him in a hug. He laughs into her hair, tightening his grip around her waist.

She pulls away, beaming from ear to ear before slowly turning around, pulling John and Arthur into a hug as well, and then moving onto Polly.

"Congratulations," She laughs.

John rolls his eyes, "Oh, shut up, you're one of us too."

❦

Charlotte grimaces down at the wooden delivery boxes on the table below that her and Grace are looking through.

"These cigarettes have a rank smell, Arthur!" Charlotte calls out to the working man in the back room, snatching a box of the cigs, and turning on her heel to spokes to the man, "They smell like rotting water." She waves one in front of his face, "Rats have even gotten to some of them."

Grace stands beside Charlie, holding an even more ruined pack, "They're stolen, are they not?"

"Don't ask." Arthur shakes his head at her, snatching the box from Charlotte so she stops annoying him with it.

"They smell because you keep them on a boat," Grace continues.

"What do ya care, eh? Now, Charlie," He motions down towards the paper below him, "can ya come and check my adding up, please?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes, gently smacking the back of his head before kneeling down in front of the table, picking up the ink pen and scanning the sheet.

"You know, Arthur, I should be the one to tell you this." Charlie glances over her shoulder at him, "Selling soggy cigs that stink of rat piss is not how you run a pub, let alone the Garrison. You should start fresh with this place. Change it completely or somet." She rolls her tongue over her teeth at his bored expression, "At least find a new place to store the cigarettes."

"It has to be far away from coppers," He states.

"I know," She hums, "But the rats are a bit of a problem too. Boats, and underground bunkers and not ideal places. An ideal place is a dry warehouse."

"Tommy's orders," He shrugs, "You know this, Charlie. Always keep contraband near to petrol boat moorings." He raises a finger, "And before you go off on me about the baits getting searched, we moor them at junctions, so there is more than one way out," He taps his temple, smirking.

She smacks his wrist away, causing his finger to fall and he furrows his eyebrows, "Don't act like that was your idea, Arthur." She stands up, pushing away from the desk and leaving the room.

"Charli— Is my adding up right?" He yells.

She smirks, "It is now, you thicko."

"Fuck you!" He shouts again, causing her smirk to widen more.

❦

Charlotte lays on the bed staring up at the ceiling of Tommy's room. Joshua had kicked her out of their room again, and she had no choice but to wander over to Thomas' house across the street. Her eyes trace the delicate, old patterns plastered into the roof, and her fingers subconsciously play with a loose thread from her dress.

"What are you not telling me?" A voice questions from the doorway.

Recognising the voice immediately, Charlotte doesn't bother moving, "What?"

"Ya said I didn't know everything 'bout ya," Thomas enters the room, shrugging his coat off and hanging it over a chair before leaning against his dressing drawers, "So what don't I know about ya, eh?"

Biting her lip, Charlie sits up, "It doesn't matter now."

"It's bothering ya," He mumbles, his eyes following her while she lifts her legs over the edge of the bed so she's able to rest her elbows on her knees, "I can tell. So tell me."

"Give me one reason why I should," She mutters.

His eyebrows furrow slightly, "What are ya on about? Ya don't need one reason. We've always told each everything."

Raising her head and finally meeting his gaze, she says, "How are you and Grace?"

Thomas sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a few moments, noticing her attempt to change the subject, "I was just speaking with her actually. I've promoted her to my secretary and book keeper."

"Wow. You really must adore her," Charlotte mutters, "Did ya ask her out as well? Or did you think promoting her was just enough to keep your desires at bay."

Pushing away from the set of drawers, Thomas plants himself next to her, "Why on earth would I ask her out?"

"The same reason you fucking promoted her. I mean, why wouldn't ya?" She purses her lips, "She's beautiful, kind and able to control her anger. The perfect woman for Thomas Shelby."

"That's exactly why I don't want 'er," He rolls his eyes. He turns his head towards the floor, contemplating whether or not to let the next words slip from his lips. "Charlotte, you're the one I want. Not some lass from Ireland. You. My Charlotte. A barmaid in Birmingham who is even more gorgeous, not as kind and can't handle her anger. You're the lass I want."

Her lips slowly part and she stares at him in astonishment, her fiddling hands coming to a stop. A slow smirk works it's way onto her face, "You don't think I'm kind?"

Biting back a laugh, Thomas rolls his eyes, "Are ya even listening to me?"

"Course I am, Tommy," She smiles, "I always am."

A few silent seconds go by, and Thomas slowly raises a hand to tuck a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear before he grabs her cheek gently. Her gaze softens while they stare into each other's eyes.

Before Charlotte has time to think, Thomas' lips are connected to hers and slowly her shocked eyes flicker closed when he brushes his thumb over her cheek. He pulls away slightly and she bites her smiling lip, feeling the blush rise up to her cheeks.

He chuckles lowly, "Ya have no idea how long I've waited to do that."

She tilts her head, "Then what took ya so long. It's not like ya to take ya time."

"I wanted to do this properly,"

Her eyebrows furrow, "This?"

"This," He nods, "Us."

Charlotte snorts, "Is that your attempt at asking me out, Thomas Shelby?"

He smirks, "I suppose ya could say that."

"Well, then I accept," She says softly, "But don't ya dare ever treat me like a whore, otherwise I'll be gone."

He shakes his head, "I'd never do that. Ya know I wouldn't." His thumb runs over her blushing cheeks, "You're my girl now, yeah? I won't let anything bad happen to ya."

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lmao 🫣

short ass chapter

word count: 1696