Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 17

He wakes up hours later, slumped over and snoring in the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, he lifts his head, wincing at the way it pounds as though it's made of lead and somebody's hammering into it.

"Cal?" He calls out through the room.

No answer. He's here alone. He goes to check his watch, then finds his bare wrist. Fuck, he'd forgot about that.

What sort of hotel room doesn't have a clock? He thinks angrily, stepping into the shower and trying to scrub away the hangover. Still, his stomach rolls, and it's not until an hour — is it an hour? Is it three? Who knows? — later, once he's impeccably dressed and the aspirin's kicked in, that he can manage the day before him. All that's missing is his Mum's fry-up, but a dry piece of toast from the tiny kitchenette will have to do.

He heads down to the conference room. It's even busier today — as predicted, the real learning has begun, and many important-looking men are here for the first time, having the sense to skip the two days prior. Michael decides he'll take note of it so he might do the same in the future.

But despite the hundreds of people sat in chairs through the hall, he cannot see Calloway anywhere. Only dark-haired men listening intently to the new speaker drone on about changes to legislation.

Michael scans the room twice over. She's not here.

Where the fuck could she be? He suddenly feels guilty as he leaves the room, heading through the hotel lobby. What if something's happened to her? He's the only one here who knows her, who's been with her. They've shared a bed, for fuck's sake — it's only normal he'd feel some sense of responsibility. Especially when she might be the only woman staying in the whole hotel.

What if she's hurt?

His hands clench into fists at his sides. He shouldn't have walked out last night. Now, with the memory unclouded by his anger, he can see how distraught she'd been. Why didn't he bloody make her tell him what's going on? He should have sat there with her. All bloody night if he had to. Until he understood.

That settles it. He'll simply scour the entire hotel for her. And then all of London, if he has to. If she doesn't want to talk to him, that's fair enough — but he has to at least try.

He goes back to the room, one last check everywhere including inside the wardrobe and under the bed, before heading back downstairs. The elevator's not stuck. Women's toilets are clear — and thank god, or that would have been an awkward explanation. He ducks his head back into the conference hall. Still no sign of her.

He twists the doorknob to each of the meeting rooms, ducking his head in to find them empty. He's given up hope when his fingers close around the last one, already planning to try the restaurants and pubs along the street.

But as he steps into the room, he sees her.

Sat with a red-haired man, piles of financial documents between them.

She glances up, her face dropping when she sees him.

He takes in the scene.

"Oh, apologies!" Exclaims the red-haired man, standing to his feet. "It's past eleven. We have gone over time."

The man's as eager to clear up the piles of paperwork as she is. Michael watches coldly as she refuses to meet his gaze, standing with papers overflowing in her arms.

"Thank you for meeting with me," she tells the man. "I'll have copies of everything sent to your secretary."

"My pleasure," he says. Lingers at the door. "May I escort you back to the conference?"

There's an unexplainable flare of anger in Michael's gut. He's overcome with the sudden urge to punch the man in the face. His hands actually twitch into fists in anticipation.

"You go ahead," Calloway says. "I have another meeting."

Michael waits until the man is gone before closing the door. Taking in the scene. Calloway squirms before him. Good.

"What the fuck is this?" He asks in a low voice.

"Just work," she says quietly.

"Just work?" He approaches. Watches her for signs of discomfort as he takes the papers from her arms. But she hands them over. Like she wants him to see, wants to confess. He looks over the first couple pages. "New client. Blackstone Holdings. We diversify clients' income portfolios through various shell companies and offshore accounts." He glances at Calloway. "My books aren't good enough, but you're signing on someone as blatant as this?"

"Michael. None of this is what you think."

He drops the papers onto the table where they fall with a soft thud, scattering gently. "What have you gotten yourself into?" He asks softly.

"I didn't get myself into anything. The men in the office — they threw me under the bus."

"Why?"

She gives him an exasperated look. He nods in acknowledgement, remembering how she'd confided into him what the atmosphere is like.

"I can't open an account for you, Michael, because the authorities are already watching me."

"It's alright," he says, relief flooding through him. "We own nearly every copper in Birmingham. Tommy will get it sorted. You'll be fine."

"This isn't Birmingham policemen."

Michael frowns. "Then who?"

She falters. Grasps the back of the chair. In all the time Michael's known her, he's never seen her so frightened — her breathing shaky, skin pale.

"Hey," he murmurs. "It's alright. Whoever it is, I'll sort them out."

"They're a special division of Scotland fucking Yard."

Shit. Maybe not.

He listens as she finally explains everything. Why she was so quick to turn him away. Why she wanted a paper trail denying involvement with the Peaky Blinders. He still feels a stab of betrayal — but also a measure of respect.

It all feels like something Tommy would do.

"And now I'm trying to gather my own evidence against Mosley," she says. "I don't want to blackmail him. I only need enough leverage he'll take me seriously. He won't kill me when I confess I've been approached to help the investigation, that I don't want to go to prison."

"And that man from Blackstone Holdings fits into this?" Michael asks quietly.

She nods. "Mosley embezzled funds through his company. If I open a client account for him, I'll have access to all the documents."

"So that's why you're here," Michael surmises.

"That's why I'm here."

He thinks it all over in his head. "Suppose it makes sense. I thought you were mental for wanting to come."

She smiles sadly, and he realises in this moment he'll do anything to protect her. Whatever happens, he's not letting anyone hurt her.

Is this what it feels like to pull down the stars?

He clears his throat. "So, what's our next move?"

She looks at him in surprise. "Our?"

"You've told me everything now. That makes me an accomplice."

She sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. I'm glad you did." He moves closer, just wanting to be near her. "And I want to end this as badly as you do. If a corrupt politician gets caught with all this, the industry's going to tighten regulations further." His stomach sinks at the thought — at being unable to take the company legitimate. Letting Tommy down. His Mum down. "That wouldn't be good for me."

She thinks for a second. "I'm already playing with fire."

He bites his lip and smiles. "Then we'll play together."