The meeting had been arranged through intermediaries, which was exactly the sort of thing that irritated you. As a prosecutor from London, your job was to follow evidence, not invitations.

Yet here you were.

The office of Shelby Company Limited was quiet when you arrived. Too quiet. The kind of silence that suggested everyone already knew you were coming.

Thomas Shelby stood by the window when you entered, a cigarette resting between his fingers. He didn't offer a handshake.

"Miss Prosecutor." His pale eyes studied you carefully. "I've heard quite a lot about you."

You remained standing, placing a folder of documents on the desk between you. Financial records. Witness statements. Transactions that seemed to connect Shelby Company Limited to activities that deserved far more scrutiny than the company would have liked.

Thomas glanced at the folder but made no move to open it. "You've spent months on this."

"It isn't personal, Mr. Shelby." You spoke serious.

"No." He replied calmly. "It never is."

Thomas finally stepped forward, resting one hand on the desk. "You think you'll find something that puts me away."

"I think the evidence will speak for itself."

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Evidence can be unreliable."

The statement hung in the air. Not quite a threat. Not quite a negotiation. Something in between. Thomas walked slowly around the room. "You're intelligent. Ambitious. You have a future ahead of you."

His gaze returned to yours. "So ask yourself whether this is worth it."

The words were measured, but the meaning was clear. He was trying to convince you. Perhaps intimidate you. Perhaps bargain.

Whatever method worked. That was how Thomas Shelby survived.

But you had spent enough time investigating him to know that every sentence he spoke carried a purpose.

And every purpose concealed another beneath it.

The silence stretched between you. Neither willing to yield first.