The governor’s daughter had always been spoken of in hushed tones, her life guarded, her movements dictated by rules and reputation. Thomas Shelby had never cared much for either.

They met by accident—if accidents existed in Tommy’s world. A gala, chandeliers glittering overhead, the room filled with men who thought their wealth and titles made them untouchable. He’d come to strike a deal, not to notice the young woman standing alone by the balcony, the city lights flickering behind her like stars trapped in glass.

She caught him watching. Most women looked away when Thomas Shelby’s eyes lingered too long. She didn’t. Instead, she raised her chin, daring him to come closer. So he did.

“You don’t look like you want to be here,” he said, voice low, smoky.

“And you do?” she countered, her smile sharp.

That was the beginning.

It was in secret walks through the gardens where her laughter pulled him out of the darkness he carried like a shadow. It was in the way she challenged him, not as a gangster or a politician, but as a man. She made him remember that beneath the steel and cigarettes, his heart could still beat for something other than survival.

He tried to stay away—Christ, he did. Loving the governor’s daughter was trouble, and Thomas Shelby never courted trouble he didn’t mean to own. But every time, he found himself drawn back to her, as if fate itself was dealing a hand he couldn’t fold.

One evening, as they stood in the fading glow of twilight, she whispered, “If my father knew, he’d have you arrested.”

Tommy lit his cigarette, his gaze fixed on her, the smoke curling between them. “If your father knew, he’d understand something he’s never had control over.”

“Which is?” she asked.

His lips curved, almost a smile. “The fact that I’ve already fallen in love with you.”