He scooped it up, noting the housing association logo, the same as the letterhead inside.
Jesus fuck.Benito unfolded the letter. It was dated two days ago and already wrinkled and stained with coffee rings and olive oil—a sure sign of defiance from the most house-proud woman he’d ever known. Half of it was illegible, but the first paragraph was unmarred.
I am writing to discuss your current rent arrears of £8787.43. As stated in previous communication, in person, over the phone, and by letter, it has been many months since you last made a payment on your account. No full payment has been made for more than a year.
DOSHA policy has always been to work closely with our residents to support them through any financial difficulties they may experience. However, we can only do this with open lines of communication. Considerable time has passed since I last managed to speak with you. My colleagues have also made multiple attempts to contact you.
It is with regret that I must inform you that if contact and a partial payment plan cannot be agreed by week ending—
The letter was too smudged to read the date, but the next line was bold and underlined.
...your account will be referred back to the council to begin eviction proceedings.
Benito’s heart thudded, a drumbeat that grew louder with every punch to his ribcage.Eviction.Fuck. It was a threat he’d lived under his entire childhood, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that for Gianna. Benito had clawed his way out of this damn block to make sure of it.He’dpaid the rent. Foryears. Odd jobs. Child benefit. Then street money. Every month until Gianna’s father had moved in. And out. And in. Too many times to count.
Rage burned Benito’s gut. He punched the door. Hard. “Fuck it, Mum. Open the door or I’ll break it down, I swear to god. Then the whole fucking world is coming in.”
Blood split Benito’s knuckles, seeping through broken skin, but the pain didn’t calm him. Not even close. He pulled his hand back, but the door cracked open before he could deck it again. One inch, then two. Benito jammed his foot inside and shoved it the rest of the way.
Rosetta De Luca was already gone, vanished into the depths of the two-bed flat Benito had grown up in.
Benito kicked the door shut and strode through the living space to the kitchen. Rosetta was at the stove, messing with a vat of meat sauce that should’ve welcomed him home.
It didn’t. The scent of it made him want to puke. “You haven’t paid your fucking rent. They’re going to evict you.”
Rosetta inhaled a shaky breath and added chopped herbs to her pan. “That’s not what it says. I have until the end of the week.”
“It’s Friday.”
“Fridaymorning.There’s still time.”
“Time to do what? If you had the money, you’d have paid it already.”
“I don’t need to pay it all. Just some.”
“So why haven’t you? Have you cut your hours at work?”
More silence. Rosetta’s back was as impenetrable as the shiny front door. Benito stepped closer, then reached around and pried the wooden spoon from her hand. “Turn around and face me.”
“No.”
“Mum.I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
“You don’t want to help me!” Rosetta exploded. “You just don’t want to worry about us anymore.”
Benito rocked back. “What the hell? Of course I don’t want to worry about you. I want you to be okay. Because I care. About Gianna, and you.”
“You don’t care about me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then where have you been for the last five years? You don’t get to show up after all this time and tell me how to live my life, Benito. Not when you spent all those years telling me how badly I was doing it wrong.”
Fresh anger surged in Benito’s veins. He ground his teeth and took a breath. “I wasn’t gone for five years. I was in London. It’s not the fucking moon. And before that, what the fuck did you expect when you kept taking that arsehole back? You think I was going to stick around to get my head kicked in and keep my mouth shut?”
“You’ve never kept your mouth shut. That’s your problem.”
“My problem is you risking Gianna’s home because you’ve given all your money to that dickstain to spunk down the bookies. Cos that’s what’s happened, isn’t it?”