Summary: What if you meet the love of your love but you’re already married to someone else?
“Feel free to kill me for saying this...”
The rain quietly hits the grey pavement of the grim street, the lights are open even though it’s quite early in the afternoon. A faint scream comes from the corner, a kid running through the splashing rain with a jacket on his shoulders. The shops are all open, the businesses booming around town while the changing autumn weather gets the best of the unprepared.
You stand in the bakery shop.
A sigh leaves your lips, umbrella left somewhere at home while you shiver lightly in the bread smell covered little box you’re standing in. Your dress is light for the weather as it rests against your collarbones, the pinkish color matching the blush on your cheeks. You smile at the workers after thanking them for letting you stay in until the weather is a little bit better.
You don’t want to go home.
It hadn’t been your idea, the whole marriage deal. It wasn’t like you hated your husband. William was sweet to you, gentle even but there was no passion in the relationship. You knew marriage was an economical proposition, William was the best option you had at the time and he had been intriguing enough for you to say yes.
You sometimes wish you hadn’t.
Another light shiver runs up your spine but before you can rub your hands together again, the bell on the door rings, indicating someone else came in the shop. The chatter filled air is silent when the door closes, the life out of the shop sucked out once the new guest arrives.
It’s him.
His hat is covered in rain and so are his shoulders, you can’t completely see his face since his hat creates a shadow under the well-lit room. Your eyes travel along his golden beard, following the ring covered hand of his and his crown tattoo catches your eye but all along, you just stand in the same place.
His eyes travel across the small shop, giving a nod of recognition to the familiar workers as they get his regular order ready. It’s early for him to be showing up in the afternoon hours but no one in the shop is daring enough to question the gangster. While he looks around the small wooden place, his eyes land on the little pretty lady standing next to the window.
You seem to be lightly shivering, he gathers its because of your light dress. His eyes roam around our body, a little too inappropriately for a while and he stops when he sees you looking right at him. You give him a small smile, it’s your form of greeting and he’s too stunned to smile back so he nods at you.
He knows you as the little lady around the corner. You’re young, at least half his age. He knows you’re married to that wealthy William bloke, the one who doesn’t talk much and he wonders if he talks to you or if he is as boring as Alfie makes him out to be. His eyes travel across your back and he admires your wavy hair under the light. You look picturesque as he takes a better look at you.
“Afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” speaks one of the employees, hand holding two bags of bread and bakeries for him. You can sense the tension in the air but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, you have a lot of it at your own home.
The first couple of years were good, you think. William was attentive and calm like he usually was but the more time passed, the quieter he became. He didn’t talk much in the first place but you’d always been the conversation maker anyway. With the passing years, the house grew dull and so did your relationship to your husband.
At least he was wealthy, you thought.
Feeling the stranger’s eyes on you, you looked right back at him. There was an air around him, the kind of aura that perked your interest. You always had the tendency to get yourself in trouble, it was why your mom wanted you to marry William. Because he was good and well-behaved and you were fire, you were pure trouble and he balanced you out.
“It ‘s, yeah.” Alfie speaks to the employee, getting the bags from his hand while keeping his eyes mostly on you.
You feel the rain get lighter by the passing second, if only you had an umbrella. It’s possible for you to go home on foot from the bakery but if you do so, you know the pastries will get wet and you don’t want to hear your husband complain.
You don’t realize this is Alfie’s shop, not until you figure who he is.
You’ve heard things, everyone has. You know the scary old gangster that resides on the same part of London as you. Most people are scared of the man, only knowing him as the murderer and the powerful man they made him out to be but you know better than to stare at him for too long.
He sees the glisten in your eyes and hesitates to walk out of the shop. He knows you’re a regular but he’s never had the pleasure of seeing you up close before. You’re proper lovely, he thinks and the more he looks at you, the more he realizes that you’re not the type to shy away by any means.
“Lass..” he speaks, taking a step closer to you and the employees are all gone to the back by the time you look up to meet his blue eyes.
“Yes?” you speak, your voice is so breathy that it makes his eyes flutter. He smiles a little, not able to hide the hints of amusement on his face as he takes a good look at your features.
You’re young, you already look younger than you are and he sees the lack of experience written in your delicate features. His eyes travel to your lips as you lick them, your soft eyes illuminated by the bakery shop as you stare up at him with curious eyes.
“Ya’ need help?” he speaks and you shoot him a daring look, allowing him to speak further and he feels himself get carried away. “The bags, yeah, I got a fuckin’ umbrella right ‘ere.” his voice fades by the end of his sentence but your eyes don’t budge. He knows you’re not scared of the big scary gangster.
“I...uh.” you speak, eyes traveling to his hand where he’s holding the said umbrella. You give him a faint smile then, you don’t want to go home but the offer is far too intriguing.
He seems dangerous, you’re drawn to him.
“That’d be wonderful, thank you.” you say and the movement that follows your words is almost automatic as you smile up at him.
He opens the door for you after getting the umbrella ready, the thing is more than enough for the both of you and since you happen to be half the man’s size, you easily manoeuvre your way next to him under the grimy weather. You stand next to him for a couple minutes as he looks down at you, your curious eyes ogling the man who’s currently holding up an umbrella for you.
He smiles down at you, in an adoring way almost and starts walking under the umbrella with you on his side. As the smell of rum and vanilla consumes you, you come to realise that the bloke walking next to you is a lot more taller than you’d anticipated. You need to crane your neck to look up at him but you shrug the thought away and keep walking.
You soon realise that the gentlemen has been staring the whole time, his glances grow longer and longer each time he takes a look at you. You gulp, realising that you’ve probably made a poor decision by accepting the stranger’s offer since he happens to be a gangster but you look past it.
“Yer’ shiverin’, pet.” he speaks, looking down at you once again and you ignore the little flip of your stomach when he does.
“Oh.” you speak, not knowing why he felt the need to point the fact out. “It is raining outside, I’d say that’s fairly normal.” you speak, biting back a response and he looks at you with a low chuckle, you don’t look feisty to him but your words say otherwise.
“Fuckin’ hell.” he mutters under his breath and you smile at his reaction, he doesn’t know what he’s in for.
You don’t feel the need to apologize for biting back a response like you just have, although most proper ladies would. You’re far too tired and spent for that, just no matter how much younger you are. His eyebrows shoot up when you remain silent, he’s waiting for some kind of ‘sorry’ for the fact that you’ve just talked back to a gangster.
“Proper lady like yourself, yeah, shouldn’t be speakin’ that way.” he says, his suggestion is lighthearted but it makes you look up at him as you walk next to the built man. His hand is tugging at his beard as his orbs stare at you.
“What makes you think I’m a proper lady?” you speak, the whole sentence filled with giggles as you make out the words. You’re far from proper.
Oh, if only he knew.
He’s heard of you. It wasn’t like everyone knew of how wild you were before you had gotten married but as the man who ran the town you were currently residing in, it was hard not to. He’s heard of the young girl with the wicked smile, the one many lusted after but she was soon married off to a wealthy guy to make sure she didn’t get pregnant or run off.
“Ya’ definitely look like one, lass.” he speaks under his breath when you stop at your doorstep.
The apartment you live in is the posh area, thanks to the money your husband so earnestly earns. His whole family is known for their money which was why your mother had jumped to the idea of marrying one of his kin, so that you’d leave a comfortable life with a quiet husband.
But she hadn’t realised that there was no love between the two of you.
There was understanding and a lot of quiet but no love. The sex was adequate but William was selfish when it came to it, it wasn’t like what you wanted sex to be for the rest of your life and much like with everything else, his family had blamed you for not being able to get pregnant years on end. You were to blame for all things, no matter what it was.
“Well, this proper looking lady thanks you for walking her home.” you spoke, a smile on your lips after you climbed onto the doorstep. Your height was even now, the steps had done that and you could see his features a little clearer.
Wasn’t he supposed be an old guy?
His golden beard covered a good portion of his handsome features but you could see that he was a sharp looking gentlemen. His blue orbs were gentle as they gazed into your eyes, his plump lips curtained by his beard as they glistened under his umbrella. You ignored the way his smell surrounded you, the maid would be opening the door soon and you’d have to go in.
“Very much welcome, yeah, my fuckin’ pleasure.” he smiled at you, his gaze getting stuck on your lips every now and then and he was not subtle about it which made you smile back at him.
You heard the footsteps of the maid from the other side of the room, the rain long gone now but the umbrella is still in its place in his calloused hands. You gulp and he senses the hesitation, his gaze dropping on your wedding ring every now and then.
“See you around, Mr. Solomons.” And you disappear behind the front door.
-----
A month.
A month passes by where the handsome scary gangster comes by the bakery a little too often. The workers know the reason is you but you remain oblivious. There are more pastries in your house each day, he sends them as his regards on the days you don’t stop by. You don’t tell your husband but he’s away on business on most days as you writhe in the big house.
You’re situated on the floor in nothing but your nightgown. There’s a book on your lap and a drink in your hand, you try not to drink in the afternoons but wine is too intriguing. You sip on the cold drink while laying on the cold wooden surface, feet moving along to the little rhythm that plays in the room from the corner.
You don’t think about the way his eyes roam all over your body and how he licks his lips every time you smile at him. Your mind is not on how his rings feel on your skin as he guides your hands through the shelves in the bakery. He knows which bread is good and he’s gotten to know your taste, your breath hitches every time he stands too close to watch as you decide on which loaf to get for the day.
You don’t hear the knock.
The maid is quick on her feet to greet the guest. She understands the struggles of being married to someone you don’t love, she’s almost a friend to you while you ask her to teach you things like knitting and cooking each week. There’s an understanding between the two of you, something that comes from being females in this cold world. You think of her as a gift from your husband, since the bloke is always away.
“Miss.” the maid speaks, her voice is quiet and you don’t look up from your book as you lay on the floor, just a nod of acknowledgment that tells her to keep speaking. “You have a guest.”
But you don’t know anyone.
Your eyes look up at her first but your eyes soon travel to the tall man next to her. You know the hat. Your body is fast to get up, feeling some need to cover up with something since the nightgown you’re wearing is merely a thin dress. You gulp, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you nod at the maid, she’s quick to leave.
“Mr. Solomons.” you speak, voice cautious as you stare up at him. He’s wearing his usual attire and you can smell the bakes goods he’s brought. But you’re oblivious as to why he’s in your house.
“Miss Y/N.” he speaks, he knows you’re married.
“It’s Mrs, actually.” you say, before you can register. There are lines you cannot cross, you’re aware but you don’t realise just how eager you feel to cross them.
“Right.” he says, eyes dropping to your wedding ring once again.
Your hand shows him the seat, ushering him to take a seat but his eyes are glued on your small form. He can see your body clearly under the afternoon light that creeps from the open blinds. He takes the seat and hears the sound of the pot, the maid is making tea and he wonders if you do this a lot, invite unmarried dangerous man to your house and seduce them with just a look.
But you haven’t even done anything.
“What brings you here?” you speak as you lift the book and the drink and put both of them on the drawer next to the shelves. He soon realises the whole room is decorated with books, paintings and music records, so this is what you do when your husband is away.
“Curiosity.” he speaks, eyes scanning yours for any kind of sign but all you have in your orbs is a sign.
You’re warning him.
You’re married, you so badly wish you weren’t in this moment but you are. There’s a wedding band on your ring and you’re bound to another man. He’s boring, wealthy but he’s too quiet for you. No matter just how fucked up it all is, you don’t feel the courage to betray William. He’s been fairly good to you, leaving you on your own with a maid who’s been a good friend to you. He provides for you and he’s bought you everything you want.
“I see.” you speak, not sure of yourself because you don’t trust yourself around this man. He’s far too intriguing.
You give him a smile then, it’s the same kind of smile of a girl who’s bound to break Alfie’s heart. He knows it and you know it, too. The maid quietly comes in then, tea and pastries the beloved gangster has brought on a tray and she sets the table up for the two of you and leaves, just like that.
“Mr. Solomons, I-” you start once the maid is out, he’s relentless, you think as he cuts you off.
“Cut that out, pet, yeah, we both know there’s no fuckin’ use to it.” he speaks and you smile again, his words cut through the silence a little harsher than he meant for them to do.
“Alright then.” you speak and get up to settle on the table. He follows your movements and soon, you’re both sitting on the table with tea cups on our hand. “Alfie.” your voice is breathy as you whisper his name, he can’t help but imagine how your voice would sound like in the middle of a good fuck.
“Feel free to kill me for saying this, pet...” he speaks, voice altering but it’s easy to sense his confidence. You watch him under a heavy gaze while he takes a sip from his cup and speaks. “..but you’re awfully distracting for a man like me.”
He speaks the truth as he looks at you. He’s been feeling rather frenzy, thoughts occupied mostly by work and then there was the thought of you creeping in between the lines. How you’d look after a good fuck, seeming as you don’t get any with your husband being away and all. He found himself thinking about you as he stared at the fire place, the little lady around the corner who seemed too feisty for her own good, fucking gorgeous too if he was to add.
“A man like you?” you speak, eyes traveling across the table to meet his blue ones. You see him smile and shake your head, he’s already a goner.
“Fuckin’....criminal, yeah. Have you not heard what I fuckin’ do, pet?” he asks, eyes searching yours but the only thing he finds it is amusement.
“Aren’t you the scary big gangster around the corner?” you ask, a wide smile on your lips after you take a sip from the hot cup of tea.
So you do know, he thinks.
And you know. You know he kills for a living and that the bakery is just a cover up, word travels fast around here. You know he’s crushed a man’s windpipe with the hold of his head, that he’s nothing but trouble. You know all about the money he collects, the way people tremble when they hear he’s around. You know all about him.
“I am, yeah. And seein’ as I am just that, your pretty little self shouldn’t be concerned with me, right.” he speaks and you see the lines of hesitation flicker on his face. It’s his time to warn you but you’ve already crossed a line and you intend to push him since he’s made the effort to come to you.
“Concerned?” you ask, taken aback a little and you watch him watch you while you take a sip.
He’s playing with the devil herself and he doesn’t even know it.
“I’m not concerned at all. Just interested.” you speak into the silence and he swears he hears his heart pounding on his chest. You were the woman they’d warned him about after all.
He chuckles at your words, eyes widening for a second as he leans back. His hand tugs at his beard, observing you for a second before his deep voice fills the house your husband bought for you. “Interested, yeah?”
“Hmm.” you hum, nodding as you confirm his words. You’re wilder than he thinks, he says to himself but he’s definitely not the one to shy away so he stares right ahead at you. “Very much so.”
“You, yeah..” his finger points at you then which brings a soft smile to your lips, you look like an angel yet you speak of devilish things. “..seem like nothin’ but trouble.” he speaks, eyes not off you for a second as you find him even more intriguing.
“Isn’t it your job to deal with said trouble?” you blink at him, literally batting eyelashes as he looks at you.
He doesn’t even like your husband, he thinks. Why is he hesitating so much?
He chuckles once again, he’s impressed to say the least. He knows the maid is in the house somewhere, surely listening but you don’t seem to give a damn. He sees the need for danger, for thrill and excitement in this little boring life you’re stuck with and if he’s honest with himself, he’ll willingly be the source of all thrill for you but something stops him from doing that.
The uncertainty of what you’re asking for.
Just when he’s getting deep into thought, you break the chain of sentences that reside on his mind by clearing your throat softly and speaking. You don’t beat around the bush.
“Look, Alfie..” your voice is stern this time. “..I don’t do this, ever. I need you to know that I’ve been loyal to my husband since the beginning, despite the things I’m sure you’ve heard..” you speak, and you are right. He’d heard an awful lot about you, mostly bad but he’d ignored it. He had the same treatment himself. “I don’t have time to beat around the bush. I need relief.....in all senses of the word.”
He watches you under a stern stare, he sees the glint of truth and bluntness mixed in with your words. “If you are willing to provide me with said relief, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you please but if not, you can go back through the same door you came from.”
You smile at the end of your sentence, he can’t tell of he’s about to sell his soul to the devil herself or if you are just looking for a way out. His eyes scan your half dressed form, if he’s honest with himself, you’ve been the only thing in his mind for the last month but he’s too proud to show it. He’s attracted to you, drawn to your small form like moth to a flame and he truly doesn’t care that you’re married.
Sometimes, he thinks, people marry the wrong partners.
And you’re the perfect example of that. He knows your bloke is out on some country, you’re more than sure he’s already cheated a couple times but it doesn’t bother you. You don’t love William, you like his company but that’s also not something you prefer. You need the attention you crave from Alfie and he seems like the perfect gentlemen.
“Alright, lass.” he speaks, playing with his rings still as he looks at your small form once again. William doesn’t know he’s missing out on a goddess, he thinks. You flash him a small smile when he gets up to either leave or accept the generous offer.
He gets sex, he gets you and he gets to do it all in someone else’s mess. He knows certain things will develop with time but he’s too riled up at the moment to think about them, his judgement gets cloudier each time he thinks of what it would be like to have you all to himself, a piece of heaven.
His voice fills the oak walls and you wickedly smile after his words. After he’s done speaking, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and the walls will be filled with something other than the faint jazz music from the record player for once.
a/n: Ok soooooo i was gone for like....idk how long but uni kicked my ass and i had to take some time off but anyway i hope all you angels are doing good!!<33 Idk if this means i’m back YET bc i have to move soon so there’s thatBUT i hope you enjoy this and let me know what you thought of it <3 xoxo
also i don’t support cheating or anything of the kind THIS IS IMAGINARY <3
no one tells you this when youre a kid but balconies are a liminal space more than any ai generated fakeplace with twilight movie filter and yellow tiles in it lol. youre somewhere between the ground and the firmament youre inside your house but outside of it you hear whats going on both in your house and the street you walked through a window and you didnt fall. europe did two things right and balconies came a close third
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