A Midsummer Night's Deal - Thomas Shelby x OFC - Peaky Blinders

5.

Thomas Shelby's office was a realm of calculated chaos.

Well, at least that is what he would like to think of it. When in reality, the room was poorly lit, the air was thick and heavy with the scent of tobacco and licor, with little to no color or life but maybe it's true when they say that the state of your room is a reflection of your mind.

Papers, contracts, documents, letters, and ledgers covered his desk, alongside empty cups and cigarette ashes. He was somewhat lost, had much to do, little time, and everything was urgent, so he didn't even know where to begin with.

A quick knock on the door made Thomas glance up, his expression a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. "What?" he grumbled, his fingers running through his disheveled hair.

"Aren't you going to eat, Mr. Shelby? Is lunchtime." Mary asked, twisting her apron nervously. "You've missed dinner and breakfast..."

"I'm not hungry Mary."

"Oh." She nodded, looking down but doing her best to keep the conversation flow. "Ahm, Lady Leonor asked about you this morning."

Thomas sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he had just now learned that he was married and that she lived in his house. "How is she, Mary?"

"Hm, she doesn't speak enough for me to know, sir." He glanced at Mary with an unreadable expression, and she hesitated before continuing. "Well, her meals are left almost barely touched, and she spends most of her time in the garden, alone."

"I see," he mused, his thoughts instantly returning to the recent intrusion. He wondered if it was the sole reason for Leonor's silence or if there was something more significant he was failing to grasp, but how could he compare? They barely spoke to each other, even before it happened. "Thank you, Mary. That will be all."

Mary blinked in surprise, she expected a different reaction from him, a hint of concern at the very least, but once again, he was Thomas Shelby, when it was about him, well, she should know better by now.

To expect the unexpected from him should be the norm, not the exception.

Thomas took another cigarette out of his case and quickly lit up, thinking about his busy schedule for the upcoming week.

There was Diana's gala, his speech at the working center on Small Heath, and what he secretly dreads the most, the visit to the winery with Leonor's uncles.

The reason for such dread was that she insisted on coming along with him and now without Gloria, she would have no choice but to play the role of the quiet wife but something told him she wouldn't go gently, especially when Diana, Oswald and Jack would be there as well.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted his silent contemplation, causing Thomas to almost flinch, irritation clear in his eyes. "What is it now?" he barked, his voice cold and demanding as he lit up the cigarette that was put out amidst his thinking. "Mary, I told you, I'm not hungry."

"...and I'm not Mary," the voice countered, revealing Leonor, who stood before his desk, carrying a tray. "Move it." She indicated his papers with a nod, trying her best to balance the tray in her hands, blowing a strand of her raven hair away from her face. He reluctantly moved his papers, his irritation evident, while Leonor kept the tray as steady as possible. Upon closer inspection, he saw two sandwiches on a plate and two glasses, presumably filled with lemonade.