Kimber's Daughter - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 18

My heart hammered in my chest as I pushed through the double doors and back to the foyer. The concierge stood up behind the desk — oh no — and frowned slightly.

"Is everything okay, miss...?"

Before I had a chance to respond, to even catch my breath, the doors opened once more. My father's friend. I risked another glance at the concierge. I couldn't risk him getting hurt.

"Great Scott, is that you?" The man behind me chortled. "I haven't seen you in years! How is your father doing?"

He reached a hand to take my own. My blood cooled. He spoke with the barest hint of a French accent, and my memory came flooding back to me.

"Mister Durand, how lovely to see you again," I told him. He gave my fingers a quick squeeze and I snatched them back once more.

I was still conscious of the weighted gun in my pocket. I needed to know if he was a threat.

"Father is well," I told him. "Have you visited lately?"

Durand's face suddenly twisted into a guilty expression. "Well, I haven't been up north since moving back across the channel. I'm only on the south coast on business, ah... but I'm sure I can manage a journey to say hello."

The double doors opened once again. Thomas Shelby thundered through, looking absolutely murderous.

"Oh, actually father has... he's come down with influenza," I said quickly. I tried to swallow my panic, and send a shooting glance to warn Tommy. "Best not to visit. Or call, even. For a while at least."

Durand frowned. "Goodness, that sounds severe. Will he be alright?"

"Absolutely." I tried to give my most reassuring nod. "Please excuse me, Mister Durand, but I best be retiring for the night. Large day tomorrow."

He frowned a little, but did not protest. "Well, do tell Billy I'll be up the next time I cross these ways, will you?"

"Yes, yes, I will." I hurried across to Tommy and wrapped my arms around his elbow, leading us from the room before Durand could ask for an introduction. "A pleasure to see you again! Take care!"

To his credit, Thomas did not explode like I thought he would. He allowed me to lead him all the way back to our room without a word. When I fumbled with the room key, my hands still shaking, he placed his own large hand gently onto mine. His fingers guided mine to turn the key in the lock, and then I collapsed into the room.

"It's okay," I whispered. "He... he doesn't know."

Tommy sighed. "He's still a liability. He'll tell your dad all about that. About us."

I tried not to think about it. I was sure that, when the time came, I'd be able to explain all this to my father. How I had to play along. When I told him how I'd killed Thomas Shelby... my stomach churned. Suddenly, the thought no longer excited me. It made me feel ill.

I sank slowly onto the bed, my head spinning. I tried to blame the alcohol — before remembering I hadn't touched any. Was I the one coming down with influenza?

As if to dizzy me even further, Tommy brushed against my forehead in what might have been a gentle kiss. "Get some sleep," he said. "You weren't lying. We've got a big day tomorrow. I'll take the floor."

It took me a few seconds to realise what he meant, when he threw a pillow from the bed onto the threadbare carpet. "You can't be serious," I groaned.

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I not being a gentleman?"

"You're being ridiculous," I snapped, a little harsher than I intended. I stood to my feet. "You'll be no good to anyone tomorrow if your back's stiff from a night on the floor. Get into bed, Shelby. I'm going to run a bath and then I'll join you. We're both adults." I took a small breath. "I'm sure we can handle sharing linen for a night."

I left the room before he could respond. I took my time bathing, waiting until almost all the bubbles had gone before getting dressed in a silk nightgown. When I returned to the bedroom, Tommy was sat up in bed, smoking a cigarette and sipping a glass of whiskey. Shirtless.

"Something the matter, Kimber?" he asked quietly, eyes darkening.

"No," I said, too quickly, averting my gaze. It's just one night, I reminded myself. You can do this.

I slipped into the bed beside Tommy, my back turned to him. For reasons I couldn't understand, I couldn't look at him. The lamp switch was cool against my fingers as I reached to switch it off. "Goodnight."

From behind me came the gentle hiss of a cigarette being stubbed in an ashtray, the clink of a whiskey glass. A small click, and Tommy's lamp was also switched off, casting the room in darkness. "Night, Kimber."

It was as though the whole bed had been crafted from electric voltage. I was all too aware of Tommy's presence, the image of him shirtless still flashing through my mind. Even facing away from him, I could still smell the hint of whiskey on the air, mixed with his usual scent of musk. I battled with myself, with wanting desperately to roll over, to caress his face in my hands. To then run my hands across his body, his smooth skin; tangle them in his hair. I could smell the whiskey in the air, but I wondered how it would taste on my lips.

No, I reminded myself harshly. That had been my own rule. No kissing. It wouldn't mean anything, least of all to him. Then I remembered his own contribution to that particular rule. He didn't want me in that way. I was no more to him than a business pawn.

That shouldn't have hurt. He was meant to be no more than the same to me, after all. So why did the beginnings of tears sting at my eyes before I finally fell asleep?