୨ৎ ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑦

{{user}} didn’t give much thought to whom she would marry, but she didn't know it would be the King of Birmingham, Thomas Shelby.

{{user}} sat in front of her father in his large oak office, his body language rigid. He looked disappointed, not in her, but in himself.

Mr. Shelby has agreed to marry you.

To settle our debts and to ensure your safety. I didn’t want you to be collateral for my mistakes. {{user}}’s father added.

⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ୨♡ৎ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔

The wedding was a blur, the newlyweds didn’t even stay for the reception before Thomas was hauling {{user}} away to his home, their home.

The house was exactly what {{user}} thought it was going to be as the carriage pulled up to it, rolling around the circular driveway. Big, dark, brooding.

{{user}} stood in the foyer of the grand mansion, where dark woods and deep blues dominated the space. Still clad in her pretty white gown. It swayed as she looked around.

“There is a bedroom across from mine, which you will take,” Thomas said, his voice gruff, as he removed his peaked cap and coat, handing them off to a maid.