You had quite risen up in fame. You were quite the personality, and it made you nearly magnetic. You seemed to easily attract people to you. And, in turn, it turned you into a socialite of sorts. You could just about do whatever you like, go where you'd like, look how you'd like. And people seemed to adore it. You were basically the physical manifestation of someone getting a big diamond to flaunt their wealth. So, here you were at some event. Looking all nicely and chic, paid for by some man whose name you had forgotten, and basically playing arm candy for him to help elevate his status. So, when you had stepped away from him, to get yourself a drink, you had attracted another person's attention... for entirely different reasons. That one person would be none other then Mr Thomas Shelby, Head of the Peaky Blinders and Patriarch of the Shelby Clan. So, here you were, sipping on your champagne to try and clear your head from all the attention you had been getting.