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ɴɪɴᴇ 𝑁𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛
❦
The fact that she had even considered it made Maria feel ill. But she was going through with it- and that wiped away any thought of redemption that she could ever even consider. For her brother. She was doing this for her brother. After this, she was done. They all were.
The Shelby warehouse that Arthur's office was held in, was on Peaky Blinder territory. The moment she stepped over the line, she would be out of her brother's reach and into the claws of the unnatural enemy. She had agreed to it anyway. For the greater good, she tried to convince herself. She had stepped that line once before, she could do it again.
Nothing could stop the shakes in her hands though. So she held them together, fidgeting between clasped fingers and tucking them warmly away into her coat pockets. It was uncontrollable. Perhaps the chill that ran up and down her body was a warning. A warning from above to tell her to avoid the sinner, to run the other way.
But Maria was sinning in her own way. She felt pulled to the man with the devil lurking in his soul. And the magnet was far too strong.
She stepped forward, biting her tongue as she knocked against his door. The blinds were drawn to his windows, the blur of a shadow against the beige covers the only thing she could see: his lanky figure, tall yet lean and strong. They had let her in, without a second thought.
He opened the door after some fumbling, staring down expectantly, the hunt of a roll behind his eyes. But then he stopped, his hair flipped back against his head and eye brows raised. He blinked, as if thinking she might disappeared if he cleared the bluefin was of his eyes.
"Maria?" His voice was little above a whisper.
"I wanted to introduce myself properly."
It didn't take much to put a smile on her face. It wasn't forced, not matter if it should have been. Maria wanted peace and perhaps she would get it.
"You know who I am?"
"I know you are a good man, Arthur Shelby," she said, watching as he opened the door wider and stepped back.
"Please, eh, sit down."
Arthur let her step into his office in front of him. He hurried forward, noticing the mess that littered his room. He made for the table, swiping everything to the floor behind it and let her sit in front.
"Here. Sorry about the mess."
"No worries," she said, shaking her head as he offered her a drink.
"No, eh, of course not. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. No harm."
He sat down opposite her, discarding his own drink in the dresser. He sat without saying another word, his glossy eyes trailed on her face. Maria swallowed. His look was so intense that it raised her heart beat, her breath quickening as she met his eyes. She blinked- the movement seemed to shake him, as he sat up in his chair, clearing his throat.
"I, eh, I didn't think I'd see you again," he said.
"Why not?"
He hadn't expected the question. Arthur looked away, unable to look her in the eye.
"I'm not a good man. I'm not a church man."
Maria paused for a moment, weighing up her action. Then she stood smoothly, stepping around the desk so she could stand in front of him. Arthur looked up, like a sinner to an angel, a halo wrapped around her head. Her hand lifted, trembling slightly as she reached forward, her own eyes watching as if her fingers had a mind of their own. She took his cheek gently, still staring down and felt him breath out harshly, subconsciously leaning into her touch, as if he had been waiting for it. As if it had been missed.
"I think..." she let out a shaky breath. "I think you are, Arthur Shelby." She placed a hand to his heart. "I think you are a good man in here."
"Are you real?" She let out a soft chuckle.
He flattered her without meaning to. Maria, no matter how high and tough her priorities and expectations were, was flattered by them. She felt seen, even by these few little words. It made her want peace even more.
"You're sweet," she said, but Maria had to force the question from her lips. "Do you still go to church? The one where I met you?"
Arthur nodded. She knew he didn't go, but, as her brother had guessed, her asking may have prompted him to. But seeing the look on his eye, shining and full of attentiveness, Maria couldn't obey her brother. She couldn't add fuel to the fire like he wanted her to. She couldn't put the first domino in place, waiting for Luca to shot fires at it and watch them all go crashing down on their own.
"Don't go again," she said, her voice deeper than she had ever made it go.
"What?"
"I have heard things," Maria said, taking his chin and pitching it harder, closer to her face so he would listen. Already though, were his eyes trained on hers, listening to the softness that still remained in her voice. "Very, very bad things. We must not return."
He moved to speak, but she shook her head. "Arthur, listen to me. When you need to speak to God, you pray in your room. But you do not go to that Church."
"But what if I need to speak to the angel? The one that greets me each time I cross through that door," he said.
Despite the fact that she had barely ever heard him speak, Maria knew that he did not sound like himself. Even the gruffness in his voice had eased. And Maria also knew that he spoke of her. His angel. She had never imagined that he thought of her so, yet she could tell from the way he never looked away.
"Then she will come when you need her."
But her words didn't do anything to keep the hope up. Arthur looked away, his chin slipping from her fingers. Placing a hand to her waist, he moved her away and Maria stood, her hands moved back remain on her lap, feeling like she was missing something.
"Why?" He breathed out in question.
"Because, Arthur Shelby," she said his name like he needed to hear it. Because he did. He needed to hear it from her lips, speaking it like it was the most beautiful name she had ever spoken, so that he wouldn't fear it. "You are a good man. I think you need someone to show you that."
She moved to the front of his desk, motioning to the door. "Walk me out?"
Arthur smiled weakly but lead her to the door. His hands ached to reach out, but they remained obediently by his side. He knew it was wrong to touch an angel in such a sinful way. But it didn't stop him from thinking about it.
He should stop thinking about it.
He clenched his teeth in warning to himself. How often did he stray from god by thinking such things? He was a sinner, and Arthur Shelby had begun to think he would die with the name scratched in his gravestone.
