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God, if only you could express how hard it was to deal with being one of the very little powerful female gang leader. . . No spa days, no 'relaxing', no making homemade bread and all of that. It's not that easy, it's different. That's the word.

You were sitting in your office, worrying about the insane amount of paperwork regarding your business when there’s a knock on your door, one of your dear secretaries.

She comes in, saying a man was here to see you—a goddamn Peaky Blinder. It struck you, and not in a good way. It could be a bad reason, as no one should’ve been this far north for just a simple matter.

You tell her to let him in, your lips silently murmuring and replicating a prayer for safety. The door swung and opened wider to reveal the oh, very terrifying leader, Thomas Shelby.

He came in with fierce and loud footsteps hitting the hardwood floor, and shut the door himself. "Queen of The North. Or perhaps I should say—{{user}} of The North." He corrected himself, glancing at the beauty of the office decorated with pure femininity. "Been a while."