Mabel's slim frame shook with fury. "Dissolved the management."

Alfie masked his confusion with annoyance. "Yeah, you know, dissolved it. Broke something apart, usually accomplished with water. Except this time, it was with fuckin' rum."

"So, you're going to...what? Become a bottle factory owner now? Is that a big thing for up and coming..." Mabel broke off, crossing her arms and turning away.

Alfie was moving into dangerous mode very quickly. Mabel was overstepping. She didn't tell him how he ran his business, or how he decided to make money. She didn't get to be angry over his decisions just because they were fucking. That was the ONLY thing they were doing and nothing else. Nothing else at all. Besides, he hadn't done this for her. He'd done it for him. He didn't care if it made her happy; this was a good move for the bakery. It would allow him to cut costs on bottling, get him access to additional distribution possibilities, bring in additional...why was he even thinking about this? He didn't have to defend himself to her! He did what he wanted, and fuck everyone else. Right.

"Oi! You've got one job, and it's for this bakery. You don't worry about fuck all else because this is what you get paid for," he said, waving a hand vaguely towards the production floor. "I run the rest of it, and I do it my way."

"Alfie. I told him. I said it was fine, and he didn't have anything to worry about as long as he replaced the shipments."

"Yeah, well now he knows better and so does everyone else."

"Exactly! Now everyone knows that it doesn't matter what Mabel says because she's just another dumb girl!"

"You did that yourself, mate. Or did I imagine your half of the telephone conversation? 'Oh, gosh Alfie, I don't want you to hurt him!' If there's no one behind that threat, it's not much of a fuckin threat now, is it?"

"Damn you, Alfie Solomons. I didn't want you to hurt him! How can you not understand this? I had taken care of it! We got the shipments we needed, we got more than we needed, and we maintained a relationship with a business contact." Mabel's voice remained steady, but color bloomed high on her cheeks and her hands shook slightly.

"And now instead of a business contact, we have a fuckin business. And I'm going to need someone to run it." Alfie looked at her, waiting.

Mabel stared at him, agape. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!"

Alfie didn't know what was going on here. He'd expected...well, he rather thought she'd have been excited about this. It was good for her, it was good for the bakery. Fine, fuck this. This is what he gets for...

"If you don't want this job, well, far be it from me, your FUCKING BOSS...to tell you otherwise." Alfie wanted to punch something.

"I have a job, thanks," Mabel sneered. "I'm going to go do it. That is, if you think I can handle it by myself," and she thundered out without waiting for his reply.

As the office door slammed behind her, Mabel heard Alfie punch something. She couldn't care less, she wanted to punch something herself. She stalked past barrels, fuming as she made perfunctory checks. God, he was such an arse! How dare he completely undermine everything she'd been working so hard to build and then act like she didn't have the right to be mad.

She maintained her angry internal dialogue the rest of the day with phrases like, "Makes me look completely unreliable!" and, "Was that even fucking necessary?!". It was dark by the time she finally left, and on the walk to her hotel the crystalline night sky calmed her enough to admit to herself that she could see why he'd done it. That was as far as she was willing to concede, but at least she understood him. He was who he was, and it was something she admired about him. He was unyielding and sure of himself, he wielded his power with such casualness and she wouldn't change anything about him for the world. She thought she'd finally started to see the Alfie behind his mask, the shtick he so carefully cultivated for everyone else seemed to be becoming less necessary for him when it was just the two of them. They would be working on something, bent over it together, and she would catch his knowing eyes assessing her outright. She was honored he let her see that he liked what he saw, and she could return those gazes. When he was around, she felt confident, her capabilities badges of honor and her accomplishments things to be proud of.

Did he really not know her at all? She had done nothing since she got to London but fall slowly in love with the bakery, and she'd poured her heart and her abilities into making it work better, run smoother. She knew that business better than the back of her hand and she loved every nook, cranny, and dusty barrel. She couldn't imagine going anywhere else, and couldn't imagine why he'd want her to. Her temper flared amidst her melancholy as she remembered he didn't trust her to take care of something like an unreliable bottle merchant.

Mabel had previously tried to mentally list the things that she'd be willing to do for Alfie Solomons without thought or question and was slightly horrified at the outcome. Now she was livid as she realized she would still do them. Even after he'd determined she was untrustworthy, even still being infuriated with him, she knew herself well enough to know the lengths she would go to to prove him wrong.

She wasn't sure where that left her, other than letting herself into her hotel room and curling up on her saggy bed, pulling the lavender chemise between her fingers.

The next morning, Mabel felt a little more clear-headed and was willing to give Alfie a chance to explain himself (assuming he had an explanation and was willing to give it). He wasn't there until late afternoon, and by then she'd had a dozen theoretical conversations with him, one memorable one where he'd fired her and another where they'd had sex on the rug. She sighed inwardly. That was essentially their basis for any of their interactions. She knocked politely at his office door and waited for him to answer before entering.

Alfie frowned when he saw her and let his spectacles drop onto the desk. Mabel sat in the chair opposite him, her face neutral as she waited. Alfie crossed his arms and let the silence stretch, clearly feeling like he didn't have anything to say. She ground her teeth slightly and smoothed her skirt.

"I'm not interested in telling you what to do, or expecting you to change they way you run your business," she started. Alfie stroked his beard and said nothing. "I was upset...I am upset because you don't trust me to-"

"Who said that?" Alfie interrupted. "Did I ever fucking say that?"

"Well, no, I-"

"Right."

Mabel collected herself. "Alfie."

He glared.

She tried again. "You told everyone not to trust me. I said, 'Don't worry', and you said, 'you should worry'. You're implying right now that you trust me, so either tell me what you want or let me do it my way."

"You're saying that you would have gone over there and taken his business if I'd told you to. You. That's what you're saying, right?"

Mabel said nothing, her ridiculous list taunting her.

Alfie studied her and went back to stroking his beard. "I just wanna make sure I understand this. So let's say I tell you, 'Mabel, you head on over there and overthrow his management and do it so he knows who's boss from here on out.' You'd do it, that's what you're saying."

Mabel said nothing. Her back was ramrod straight, and she held her hands in her lap.

"And what happens if you can't? Huh? Young slip like you, what if you get in over your head?"

She looked him in the eye. "Then I trust you."

Alfie sat back at that. He watched her face, deciding. Then he reached in his desk drawer and pulled out his gun, setting it on the desk in front of him. She watched him, calmly.

"You know that most people, this is the response they get for things like what you're saying, yeah? So what makes you think you're above that? You think that just because we're fucking, that you get to have some kind of say on what I do or how I do it."

Mabel flinched slightly at the word but plowed ahead. "I think that you're letting me run your bakery. I think you wouldn't do that if you didn't think I could, and if I was doing something wrong you'd tell me."

"Oh, you do!" he said approvingly. "Oh good, I was thinking my performance review got lost in the fucking post."

"You already trust me to make decisions when you're not here, you expect me to handle things without
bothering you. But you can't trust me to do those things while undermining my ability to do them on my own. You don't get to trust me and not trust me at the same time, not if you want me to stay here."

Her implied threat hung in the air. She hadn't meant to say it but wasn't going to take it back. Her pride alone prevented that.

Alfie's voice was ominous. "You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do. Now. Fuck off."

Mabel stood, unhurriedly, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, boss."

Alfie watched her leave and then scrubbed his hands through his beard. "Fuck!" He flopped back in his chair, scowling.

He did trust her. He had been letting her handle more and more, watching her delegate, manage, and restructure and he had admired her for it. She was capable, and dependable, and loyal. He could count on one hand how many people like that he knew.

What was he doing? The thing with Mesnard…it was something he would have always done. Except this time when he did it, he'd thought about her. And he'd gotten it wrong. She'd been furious. He was no good at this, it was ridiculous to even contemplate…

No. He refused to allow that thought to fully form. She was so…and he was no good. No good at this, no good for her, no good in general. And he lived for that, he prided himself on it, always had done. He wasn't going to fuck up the part of his life he had going for him, not in exchange for something he could get wrong.

Alfie sighed, feeling exhaustion in every muscle. His hand was wrapped from where he'd split his knuckles punching the cabinet the day before, and he slowly unwrapped it, flexing the joints and reveling in the ache. This, he understood. Pain you could see was something he was comfortable with. God, he needed a drink. He grabbed his coat and hat and decided to go look for trouble.

Mabel sat in the bustle of the hotel bar and picked at her food. It was good, and it was nice to come down after a long day dressed in something other than work clothes and interacting with people other than employees. Or bosses. She was absolutely not upset, and she wasn't going to think about him anymore.

Besides, he was a complete fucker, and who cared if he wanted her or not. She could work anywhere, especially now she could add the bakery to her credentials. If she left now, would Alfie let her go? Did she really want him to?

Aaargh, she needed to stop this. She needed a drink. She abandoned her meal and decided to go look for trouble.