Prompt: Lucia ropes Tommy into going to a wedding in London. She has plans to negotiate with the father-of-the-bride to secure her future position heading London. NSFW content.
Sitting at his desk, doubled over paperwork and reports sent from the New York and Chicago offices, Tommy jumped at the sudden knock at the window behind him. He pushed aside the curtain and Lucia stood grinning on the other side.
"Come out! We have to go!"
His eyebrow quirked in question but she slapped the glass again, cocking her head back for him to meet her outside. Amused and curious, Tommy shouldered his coat, pocketed his cigarette case, and locked away important documents for later.
Lucia sat in the driver's seat with the engine rumbling. Her husband rounded the car, opened the door, and motioned her out.
"I want to drive," she argued.
"As long as you're my wife, I'll be your chauffeur." He cocked his head back in the same fashion she had earlier. "You look beautiful."
Although flattered, Lucia pinched her face dramatically and slid across the seat to the passengers side. She took his jacket and carefully spread it over her knees to keep from wrinkling. Her pale blue hat decorated with white wildflowers was carefully rested over it. Where they were going, appearances mattered.
"Where are we going?"
"London."
"Why?" he questioned as he reversed out of the courtyard.
Every time he pulled the vehicles out in reverse, he had made a habit of stretching his arm across the top of the front seat. It helped him concentrate, he said, kept him in control. Usually both hands returned to the steering wheel, but today Tommy's arm stayed outstretched over the seat casually. His fingers gently tugged and spun his wife's curly hair as they drove along, leaving Arrow House to be swallowed up under the towering trees.
A toothy grin brightened her face. "Just trust me," she said in a deep voice that was clearly meant to imitate him.
"What's that package?" He gestured to the adorned rectangular package on the dashboard.
"It's five thousand pounds. We're going to a wedding."
Tommy looked at her incredulously. Aside from family, nobody was worth even close to five thousand pounds in His Majesty's bank notes. "I didn't know Solomons found a poor girl."
"'S not Alfie's wedding, but he might be there looking monstrous as always."
Lucia was holding off until they were halfway to London before revealing whose wedding it really was. That way, Tommy would have no choice but to go. She had been planning this for weeks now, going as far as purposely asking her husband to wear a specific colored suit to match the gown she'd wear. Ever trusting and eager to please her, Tommy hadn't suspected a thing when he dressed that morning.
"You have to promise me you won't be aggressive at this wedding. You don't get physically aggressive but you scare people. Don't scare people, Tommy. Especially not these people. I have my own plans."
"Are you going to tell me these plans you've been developing behind my back?"
She smiled and moved closer to him, guiding his arm around her shoulders. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to get involved. Promise me, Tom!"
"I promise!" he quickly agreed.
"We're going to Constanzia Sabini's wedding."
"Jesus Christ, Luce!"
"Listen to me, Tommy," Lucia held fast to the arm he had draped around her before he could pull it away. "We were invited! We were sent an invitation on the insistence of George Sabini, his older brother. Why do you think Sabini supported Luca during the vendetta? George was Luca's godfather and his younger sister Mary is my godmother."
Tommy groaned. "You Italians —"
" — are well connected," Lucia finished.
Tommy shook his head and rubbed the corner of his brow in thought. "What if this is a trap and they plan on using this as an opportunity to avenge your brother?"
"What happened during the vendetta was a family affair, Thomas. They know that. And it'll stay strictly business as long as we maintain power over Solomons' half of London. Which we will. Plus," she added as a smug off-hand, "my godmother has more balls than Sabini. She'll vouch for me."
"Luce," Tommy cautiously began, "you… when it comes to other Italians, you don't think straight. You stand by your own standards and expect everyone to fall into your line. You have to be careful, Luce. They might not support you in the way you think."
"I know my blood, Tommy. My godmother will support me. If she doesn't, we still have Uncle George."
Lucia was chipper and confident and it made Tommy worry for her all the more. Though she learned to hold her head high and bare her decisions bravely on her shoulders, Lucia's weakness lay in the trust she put in her kinsmen and the overconfidence she felt in dealing with them. Tommy had always been a serial cynic. But whether it was from years of brainwashing and verbal abuse that held Lucia so close to her Italian counterparts, all Tommy knew is that there was a chance her plans would fall apart at her feet and she would be severely hurt by the predictable unpredictability of the people she once knew kindly.
"Do you trust me, Tommy?"
"Aye," he said, staring at the road before them, "I trust you, Lucia. It's just them I don't trust."
They were only invited to the reception held in Sabini's large house in the Clerkenwell neighborhood of London. It was a beautiful scene. Tables were dressed down with white linen tablecloths. The air was perfumed with the aroma of fresh flowers. The bride and groom were seated on a lifted stage at the front of the grounds with garlands of flowers hanging from each corner.
"Lucia!"
"Parrina." Lucia walked into the waiting embrace of Mary Sabini, a stout and rosy faced woman with speckles of gray running through her tightly pulled black hair.
Mary Sabini kissed her goddaughter on either side of her face and curled her wrinkled fingers over Lucia's hair. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"Only on business, Parrina."
"Oh." The corners of the older woman's mouth angled down into a frown. "It's been so long since I've heard from you." There was a hint of displeasure in her voice. "And you've come without your daughter. It's tradition that I stand as godmother to her. Or have you forgotten me entirely?"
Lucia began to blush in embarrassment, managing to stammer, "I haven't forgotten. Sabine wasn't christened. We decided against it."
Tommy, standing behind his wife and acting as a quiet observer to her conversation, grew rigid in anger. He could tell where the conversation was going. It was written all over the creased face of Mary Sabini. He fought against all his instincts not to pull Lucia behind him and viciously lay down a threat to the woman who planning to verbally torture his wife. Tommy's teeth ground together in his mouth. He wanted to stop it before it began.
Mary Sabini locked her jaw in clear disapproval. After a moment her face hardened and she stroked Lucia's hair again. "Beautiful hair. Just like your mama. May she lay in peace. I hope you haven't forgotten her as well."
Lucia bit the inside of her lip hard at the comparison and quickly realized she had fallen out of favor with even her godmother completely. For good reason. Kill your brother, and it will be justified as an act of honor. Kill your mother, and you will be received with derision and viewed dishonorably. She forced an easy smile though Tommy could see the rigidness of her shoulders where he stood from behind.
Lucia turned and motioned Tommy forward. "My husband, Parrina, Thomas Shelby."
Her Godmother looked the blue eyed, gaunt faced gypsy up and down with suspicion. In Sicilian she asked, "was this one really worth all that trouble and dishonor, Lucia?"
Tommy didn't understand what was said but felt Lucia's arm tighten around him. The smile on his wife's lips wavered and the anger inside of him was stoked.
"Yes, Parrina ," she responded back in English. "He was worth the trouble. And dishonor."
At the small of her back, Lucia felt Tommy's hand press firmly. It was a grounding feeling. It kept her from sobbing openly in front of her godmother and all the other women. As often as they had their marital problems, Lucia always knew Tommy would slaughter the world to protect her. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her. It was a comforting reassurance.
Mary Sabini forced a tight smile, kissed the girl's cheeks quickly in farewell, and handed the couple off to a waiter who showed them to their table. It was at the very back of the lawn, far from the bride and her family. Once they were seated, Lucia asked Tommy for the gold gilded parcel containing the hefty sum. In the shade of her purse, Lucia counted out four thousand pounds and left a thousand in the parcel.
"A thousand for the bride. Four thousand for her father." She turned to Tommy. "This is still going to work. A good Italian never refuses any request on the day of his daughter's wedding."
Tommy rested his wrist on the back of her chair, using the close proximity to rub her shoulder blades comfortingly. She had given so much up for him and had walked into a den of lions head-on to enact her secret plan for the good of their business.
"Are you alright?" He asked under his breath.
Lucia didn't look at him as she readjusted the separated cash in her purse. "It doesn't matter if I'm alright. We just need to get Sabini on board." She leaned in closer, still looking down at her purse to hide the movements of her lips from any curious eyes. "If we get Sabini, we get Magaddino. And if we get Magaddino, we get stronger leverage on the east coast of the US."
When she finally lifted her head from the purse in her lap, Tommy looked like he wanted to worship the ground she stood on. Anywhere else he might have done so. Instead he leaned forward and put a chaste kiss to her cheek.
"Incredible, you are," he whispered against her ear. "I'll come in with you?"
"No. It's best I go by myself. After Epsom, I'm sure he'd kill you on spot, wedding or no wedding." Lucia managed a smile that didn't spread far enough to reach the pained expression in her eyes. "I didn't realize it would be so tense. Polly won't be pleased to know I'm still painfully naïve."
"You're not naïve. Maybe too trusting, but not naïve."
Appreciative, Lucia sadly squeezed his fingers. "It's fine, love. All we can do is look the truth in the face and call it what it is." She took a large mouthful of homemade Italian wine to coat her parched throat.
As Tommy adjusted his jacket on the back of the chair a large burly man joined their secluded table. He greeted Lucia with a warm smile, brushing her cheeks with the back of his discolored knuckles affectionately. Tommy wondered how many jaws those large knuckles had come in contact with over the years.
"Lucia, Lucia."
"Su Giorgio," Lucia returned his warmth with a quick hug. "My husband —"
"The famous Thomas Shelby," George Sabini shook his hand across the table. "I've heard much of you."
"All bad, I'm sure," Tommy joked humorlessly.
"Ah, yes," George responded gravely. "It was all bad." He turned to Lucia now. "I've arranged a time for you to meet my brother. I'm afraid it would be best for you to leave directly afterwards. You have kicked up quite a lot of talk and the bride isn't happy about it."
Lucia nodded stiffly but understood the unnatural situation.
George continued, "I was very sad to hear about your father and your brother. Vincente and I were good friends. Brothers." He looked at Tommy now. The ridges along the older man's face were almost menacing. "Do you have brothers, Mr. Shelby?"
"Only one left," Tommy flatly answered. "You people killed two of them."
"Tommy." Lucia whispered in warning and put a hand on his forearm. "Su Giorgio."
George and Tommy stared at one another, exchanging silent threats through the space between them.
"Two lives in exchange for two lives," George stiffly said. "That's the way people of honor settle disputes."
"Please." Lucia forced both men's attention back on her to break the tension.
In a split moment, George's expression transformed back to its original solemnity as he turned to her again. "We were, of course, saddened by the passing of Audrey and my Luca. He was a good boy, if not too rash in his approach." He didn't include the part where hoped to spit in her face for killing her own family.
"They had a proper burial," she quietly assured. "A Christian burial."
"Good." George shot Tommy with another look that pinned him in place, but Tommy leaned back in his chair and took a casual sip from his own glass, successfully pretending not to notice.
A sharp prickle of danger peppered Lucia's neck and arms with goosebumps. If Tommy felt the same, he did a good job covering his tracks. From the corner of her eye Lucia could sense him sitting still beside her. She had bravely come to the wedding to propose a civil alliance with Sabini. Although soon she would consider calling it almost an egregious foolishness.
George Sabini rose from his seat, kissed her forehead in a ungiving way and said, "I was very fond of you, Lucia."
As he walked away to rejoin the tables up front, Lucia knew those were his parting words to her. There would be no more favors, no more personal guarantees for safety, no more family to fall back on. This was Lucia's first and only chance to win Sabini over.
"Tommy."
"There's a gun in my coat."
"Keep it," she softly replied. "They'll search me before I see Sabini. And you might need it more if things go wrong. Every man at this wedding has a gun."
"Lucia —" he began, but Lucia had read his thoughts.
"There will be no bloodshed on the day of his daughter's wedding. It's bad luck for the couple. But that doesn't mean they won't try later."
"Is this worth the risk?"
Lucia had never heard those words come out of Tommy's mouth. She never expected him to say such a thing. The business always came first. The end always justified the means. Even if that meant walking to death. He always had a way to cheat death. But now Tommy Shelby didn't need to wonder if his wife walking into certain death was worth the risk. He valued her life over the business.
Lucia's face remained hard and passive. "Birdie Boswell once told me of a dream she had. In this dream, you and I were standing on a mountaintop with the world at our feet."
She looked over her shoulder towards the house. English ivy climbed up the red bricks and swept around the window frames. A man, terrifying to the eyes, stood by the back door. He was Sabini's enforcer with a name Lucia dare not taste on her tongue. Another shock of danger flushed over her body when the man looked to their table and gave a short nod. It was her turn to see Sabini.
As she stood with her purse clutched between a white knuckled grip, she leaned close and said, "We will reach that mountaintop, Thomas. Even if it kills me."
Tommy caught her by the arm as she stepped away and hissed into her ear. "Not if it kills you. We have children."
"Don't make a scene," Lucia hissed back, hiding bared teeth over a pleasant smile.
Tommy was left to sit alone and wait anxiously at the table with dozens of derisive Italian eyes boring holes into him. The more Lucia had shared her plans the more nervous Tommy got. It was clear now why she had waited until they were halfway to London before revealing her true intentions.
While he did not enjoy being left out of the action, Tommy wondered if asking him to wait on the sidelines was Lucia's idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine. It tasted bitter. His body felt tense, though his outward appearance was composed. Tommy wondered if this was how Lucia felt every time he rushed forward with all his plans without properly explaining it to her first. At least she had warned, all around him lingered black haired, olive skinned men with pistols outlined along their jacket pockets or along their ankles. He took another sip of wine and prayed to whatever god was listening that his wife came out of that house unharmed.
Inside, Lucia walked down a dim hallway. Tall men in smart suits guarded the path to Sabini's office. One of them requested she surrender her purse for search and lift her arms to be patted down. Once that invasive affair finished, Lucia patiently waited. Soon a mousy man with a thin mustache, trembling and wiping away tears, hurried out, leaving the door open. Lucia saw the consigliere first. He gestured her in.
The large door didn't creak when she stepped inside the darkened room. Sabini sat tall behind his desk. His consigliere migrated beside him.
"Su Ottavio," she greeted with a polite smile. Uncle Ottavio.
Sabini's mustache danced across his sour face. At the very least, this insolent girl had enough deference to call him by his Christian name. He never liked the name Charles. It felt weak and pathetic. He was born Ottavio Sabini though many men called him Darby Sabini. For this, he decided to leave a single ounce of respect left for Lucia Shelby.
"I've brought your money." She pulled the wad of cash out first then the gilded parcel. "Four thousand for you. One thousand for your daughter. May she bear strong, masculine children."
"Shame you weren't able to do the same," Sabini mockingly observed, looking her up and down with shadows of disregard. He handed the open cash to his consigliere, George Sewell. "And what do you want in return? My brother said you had a favor to ask."
"Well first, I'd like to give you my gratitude for helping my husband and I end the vendetta against my brother." Lucia placed her hand over her heart then gestured out to him. "My father always said that little favors between families strengthen ties. The favor I would like to ask is this: when the time comes, yourself and Magaddino will choose the winning side both here in England and in New York. The Shelbys and Charles Luciano. The business you overtook from my brother in New York will be under Luciano's protection and you will keep all monetary benefits."
Sabini's nose curled as though a rancid smell was placed under it. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I don't care for your gratitude. You're dishonorable and everyone knows it. I'm surprised you were shameless enough to show your face here. Must be all the time you spend fucking gypsies."
Swallowing the insults, Lucia responded with civility. "There are benefits for being known as dishonorable. Benefits that outweigh the disadvantages. Will you agree to this favor I ask? You'll get more money. Luciano is good for it, and you know the alternative if you don't agree."
"How can I know you won't do to me what you've done to your brother?"
"The same way I know you might do to me what I asked you to do to my brother. You can't know. But I can rest assured, if anything happens to me, Charles Luciano will enact justice swiftly and pull the ground from under your feet."
Sabini loudly sucked on his teeth. Charles 'Lucky' Luciano was a formidable figure in America. His arm of influence crossed oceans, this Ottavio Sabini knew for certain. He considered her carefully through beady black eyes.
"Do you agree?" She pressed, not forcefully like her husband might, but softly with the lightest touch only a woman could replicate.
His consigliere handed the four thousand pounds back with a nod that the amount was correct. Sabini stared down at the money. "It's bad luck doing business with women. A death wish with dishonorable women."
Lucia smiled. "Even more so with dishonorable men who lead their own brother's godson like lamb to the slaughter. Or does George not know what you did to Luca?"
Sabini frowned - perhaps in guilt, perhaps in resentment of the reminder. Either way, it was clear his brother did not know and Sabini wanted to keep it that way. "We'll choose the winning side. Now get out of my sight! Stronza!" Bitch!
With a slight bow of her head in thanks, still achingly polite, Lucia stepped back towards the door. "Oh," she stopped midway to the door handle, coiling her lips innocently. "In addition to masculine children, may your daughter beat her groom to an inch of his life if he lays an unkind hand on her. Since there's no way to know which side her father will take." The door creaked now as she pulled it open and she dare not stay long enough for a response.
Coolly Lucia walked down the hall, past the blood-curdling face of the enforcer guarding the back door, and put a hand on Tommy's shoulder.
"Time to go."
Tommy sensed the urgency in her voice and, also slow and deliberate with his actions, slipped into his jacket and took the final sip of his wine before holding an arm out for his wife.
"Keep your gun hand ready," Lucia said to him through a gracious smile directly to the other guests they walked past. There was no point saying goodbye to Mary Sabini or her brother George.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Yes," she continued through the same plastered false smile when they walked past the soldiers posted around the border of Sabini's compound. "As soon as we get out of here alive."
Their legs quickened pace down the rows of vehicles neatly parked. Tommy and Lucia unhooked their arms as they reached the Bentley. Lucia made sure the tyres hadn't been slashed or tampered with.
"Check the engine." The fear in her voice only appeared as a broken crack in the middle of the sentence. "Sabini's men have nimble fingers and are known for planting car bombs."
"All clear." Tommy climbed into the driver's seat.
"Sabini cut off the weapons Luca would have used for the vendetta." She paused. "At my request. Where do you think all his petrol bombs and sub-machine guns went?"
Tommy knew better than to be surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Lucia jumped into the car. "Tommy, there are some damnable things that are best left to die with me."
They both drowned in silence when the key was slid into ignition. They sat still with bated breaths. It could be their last moments.
"If we die..." Lucia began.
"We're not going to die." Tommy turned the key and braced himself for an explosion. The engine roared to life and no time was wasted speculating whether they were lucky enough to live another day.
"Let's get the fuck of of here before Sabini changes his mind."
Tommy drove out of the Clerkenwell neighborhood and out of London as fast as the car would take them. All the while, Lucia kept a sharp eye out the windows to see if they were being followed. Only when they were well past Lewknor, forty five miles out from the city, did Lucia's shoulders fall with relief.
"Pull over a moment," she requested in a breathless voice.
A small rural road came up and Tommy pulled in, parking in a spit of land surrounded by tall trees on all sides. Lucia should have mentioned that they could easily be ambushed but she was too filled with adrenaline.
Another word was barely uttered before she had climbed into his lap and viciously connected her lips to his. Her fingers were already pulling at his tie, at his collar, at the buttons of his dress shirt.
"Don't scare me like that again," he groaned just as she rolled her hips down on his already hardened cock.
"Why not?" she grinned, nipping at his full lips. "It was exciting."
Heat radiated between them. Soon Tommy's calloused hands had hitched her dress up and palmed the wetness that seeped out of her crepe de chine underthings. Lucia shuddered on top of him, pressing her cheek against his forehead, begging for more of his touch. Her shoulders shrugged out of the gown and Tommy pulled aside the laced brasserie to pinch her hard nipples until he could catch her moans in his open mouth. Lucia wanted to bare it all to him. She wanted to lay her body, bare and flush, before him and before God himself for the sins she had committed. Her sins were her sins, but her successes would be for him.
She squirmed and whimpered at every curl of his finger. Aching moans pounded against his ear until Tommy couldn't take it anymore.
The button that held his trousers together was undone. It took one swift movement, with careful adjusting, and the breath caught in Lucia's throat. She choked into a shallow moan, slowly moving her hips up and down, loving the slick warmth that dripped out of her. With a handful of her hair in his hands, Tommy pulled down until her back arched and her breasts bounced near his face.
The jewels sewn into her gown tittered against the dash.
"Wait."
Their bodies stopped rocking long enough to forcefully bring their lips back together in wet kisses and dampened moans. He thrust his hips upwards.
"Fuck," she grimaced, "Tommy."
He pulled her head back to expose the soft skin on her neck again. Tommy pursed his lips into hot-breathed kisses, holding her hair firmly to make sure he would get enough time to nip and suck on the supple skin. Her ragged breath urged him on. She was begging him, panting and tensing, to hold on until she reached her orgasm.
"Unbelievable, you are," he snarled into her ear, swiping his tongue down the side of her neck, "going in there. Making deals with devils." Tommy pulled her hair back again to plant urgent kisses onto her swollen pink lips. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
Lucia smirked into his assault of kisses. "I'm the woman who's going to bring London to its knees for you."
Tommy held on tighter. He kissed her harder. Fucked her faster.
He could tell it was building up inside her. She clenched around him, pulsing rhythmically to match his every stroke. He had to hold on tight to her hair, to her body, to anything he could get a hold of so he wouldn't slip out at the force her tightness seemed to push him out.
When she finally came, her legs tensed up first and squeezed in on either side of him. Her moans filled his ears and her arms snaked around him, hands yanking at his hair until his pained moans matched hers. Tommy buried his face in her bare breasts. She was bouncing up and down, desperately now to make the delicious feelings last as long as possible, and, between that and her throbbing warmth pressing around him and pushing him out, Tommy couldn't think straight.
Stars blinded his vision when he came to a shuddering end inside of her. With a single motion, Tommy turned her on her back across the car seat. The windows were fogged and the leather seats were sticky with sweat. He braced himself, one arm on the seat and the other palm braced against the dashboard.
"Christ, woman," he growled.
A half a dozen strokes and he was too weak to hold on any longer. Lucia's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper in until he collapsed into her kiss, still filling her up snugly. It was best if his cum dripped inside her dress and down her leg rather than straining the front of his trousers.
They lay panting together, unable to move an inch. Lucia's knees were weak and the force she had around his body loosened. His arm hung off the side of the car seat. Their skin stuck together. Exhausted, Lucia carded her fingers through her husband's sweaty hair, slicking it back out from his face. She could have stared at that face forever.
This is how their marriage should be all the time, Lucia thought to herself. He would do something incredibly stupid and she would fuck his brains out. She would do something incredibly stupid and he would fuck her brains out. Give and take. Lots of fucking. Tommy and Lucia Shelby seemed to find sport in putting their lives on the line. It brought them closer together. It made them proud to belong to each other.
It was a repulsive aphrodisiac, meant only for the most depraved and immoral reprobates. But it's where they felt most comfortable, most alive.
"I never slept much before I married you," Tommy said thickly from dehydration. "Sometimes I dream. And in my dream someone wants my crown."
Lucia swiped her tongue over dry lips. "Let them have it. Why wear the crown when I can give you the throne?"
Historical Notes
Charles 'Darby' Sabini went by several names, including the names of his own brothers George and Fred for a time, but he preferred his birth name Octavius (or Ottavio). He also did have a younger sister named Mary and an older brother George.
Stefano Magaddino, a Sicilian born mobster heading the Buffalo crime family in New York, did have quite a bit of influence. So much so that he was called 'The Arm'. There's no proof or even speculation that Magaddino and Sabini worked together - this connection is solely artistic licensing on my part.
Charles 'Lucky' Luciano is also a Sicilian born mobster that had his own boss, Joe Masseria, murdered to take control of the family. This GUY! He was cold, calculated, had excellent control of his emotions, and rocketed the mafia into one of the most notorious criminal organizations that the world has ever seen! Lucia's connection with him is a huge deal and how it came about will definitely be explored more!
Parrina translates to godmother