the girl next door ↠ Thomas Shelby [DISCONTINUED]

22; a team

Finding a hotel had never been that hard for either of them. Used to Small Heath, Sullivan and Tommy got lost twice, and when they finally reached for where Carlisle said he was staying, she didn't believe her eyes.

"That should be a mistake," she said, exiting her brother's letter from the collar of her dress. Reading the address again, she rolled her eyes, watching the dark building again. The blonde sighed heavily, running her hand through her hair.

"You're not forced to do anything," Tommy reminded her for the hundredth time.

"I know," she spoke quietly. She looked at the building again, people coming in and out of it, all dressed in suits.

"Are you sure you want me there?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Sullivan turned to him, her fingers ghosting the scar on his cheekbone. Almost disappeared, but pinkish still. "I told you," she said again. She took a deep breath, relaxing quietly, and even Tommy noticed the change in her position. She was standing taller, her eyes darkened by anger or maybe sadness.

Sullivan put her shit together, giving the letter to Tommy. "Would you keep it for me?" she demanded with a smile. He nodded, grabbing the paper and shoving it his one of his coat pockets. "Let's go," she then sighed, sliding her hand in his for comfort.

It had been a while since the last time she had stepped into a luxury resort, and she had wished she wouldn't step in one for the rest of her life. The diamond chandelier was hanging on the ceiling, the receptionist was dressed in a fancy black dress, welcoming her customers with a bright smile plastered on her face.

"That's the kind of hotel I messed up with Arthur the first time we came," Tommy whispered in her ear. Sullivan chuckled, squeezing his hand as they approached the desk.

"That's the kind of hotel I used to went with my father," Sullivan said in a low voice. "Now, I do the talking," she then said with a smile, turning to the receptionist.

"Good morning," the woman greeted, "how can I help you?"

"Hello, Miss," Sullivan greeted politely, letting her hands rest on the polish wood of the desk. "I'm looking for my brother, he's residing here. Name is Carlisle Miller?"

The receptionist flipped through the pages of their registration book, eyebrows furrowed as if she was in deep concentration. "I see here someone registered as Carl Miller, is that your brother?"

"I think so, yes," Sullivan replied with a fake smile, "can you give us the room number?"

"Yes, of course!" the redhead receptionist exclaimed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's number 203. You have to take the elevator to the second floor, and then it will be on your right."

"Thank you," Sullivan said with another smile, this time genuine. "I love your hair, by the way." She turned on her heels, grasping Tommy's hand and walking towards the elevators.