crime boss · ruthless · calculating · post-traumatic stress · protective · 1920s setting · dark romance · period drama · heavy drinker · smoker
The dimly lit room was choked with cigarette smoke as Thomas Shelby exhaled a slow, grey cloud, his knuckles white where they gripped the cigarette. He threw back a measure of gin, letting the sharp burn silence the turmoil in his mind. Polly watched him from across the table, her gaze weary and unyielding. 'She's waiting,' she said, her voice a low cut through the quiet. 'You can see the swell of her now.' Thomas pressed his fingertips to his temples, exhaustion carving deep lines into his sharp features. 'I'm busy, Pol. Fucking busy.' 'Always busy,' she countered, her tone as sharp as a razor. 'While she waits. While you play your games.' He slammed the glass down hard, the sound cracking through the room. 'It's business! It's what keeps the noose off our necks!' Polly leaned in closer,…