Page 5 of Dream
“Yup.”
“And you don’t have any otherincome?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” Dylan completed the last of the forms. “Well, as you’re probably already aware, your personal debts, and the repayments on them, vastly outstrip your current means, even with your living expenses as low as they are while you’re living in your mum’sgarage.”
“Right.”
Dylan waited until Angelo met his gaze before he went on. “The deli belongs to your mother, and so I’m going to refer you?—and her?—to an organisation that can help with your businessdebts.”
“What about the rest ofit?”
“Honestly?”
“I didn’t come here to be liedto.”
The growl in Angelo’s voice did odd things to Dylan. For a moment he was briefly transported back to the basement rooms where a voice like that had come with a firm grip and an expertly aimed dick. “You have no assets or leftover income each month, and your debts come in at just below twenty grand. The best advice I can give you right now is to apply for a DRO?—a debt relief order?—that would be in force for twelve months, after which, your debts would be wiped. It costs ninety pounds and will affect your credit score for six years, but unless you foresee your circumstances changing anytime soon, it’s your bestoption.”
Dylan sat back in his seat as Angelo digested the information. It had been a strange consultation?—one-sided, mainly, as the beautiful man had fluctuated between gazing into space and staring so intently that Dylan’s teeth itched. Angelo’s financial situation was dire but fixable. What Dylan couldn’t work out was how it had got so bad in the first place. The deli had been a victim of gentrification, but Angelo Giordano had earned good money in his previous job and he didn’t strike Dylan as a man who’d be careless with cash. A brave assumption, perhaps, but Dylan had a decade in debt relief, and he’d bet his right arm that a big piece of the puzzle was missing. “What did you do for work before thedeli?”
“Hmm?” Angelo glanced up from the financial assessment Dylan had slid across thetable.
“Your previous job,” Dylan said. “What wasit?”
“I was adancer.”
“I know that. I meant what kind ofdancing.”
“Ballet.”
“Seriously?” Dylan blurted before he caught himself. With his pierced ears and dark beard, Angelo didn’t fit Dylan’s naïve idea of what a ballet dancer would look like. “That’samazing.”
“It was,” Angelo said flatly. “But I’m past itnow.”
“Past it? Too old, youmean?”
“Something like that.” Angelo’s dark gaze flashed with an emotion that cut Dylan to the bone, but it faded fast, like it had never been there at all, and he broke the spell by tapping his elegant fingers on the desk. “So what happens next? Do I need to signsomething?”
“Uh...” Dylan opened a drawer in the desk and retrieved a DRO pack. “Applications for debt relief orders can only be made by an approved intermediary, and I can’t do it for you here because you live inRomford.”
“So?”
“You’re out of area,” Dylan explained, though he couldn’t explain why it was killing him. “I have to signpost you to the Romfordoffice.”
“Then why did you give me an appointmenthere?”
“Because we’ll see anyone who walks through the door, but our options are limited when it comes to making DRO applications. It’s policy to refer you to the office closest toyou.”
“That place isshite.”
Dylan couldn’t deny it. Aside from not wanting to know the financial woes of his friends and neighbours, it was the notorious disarray of the Romford office that had led him to take the position in Stratford. But his hands were tied. “I’msorry.”
“Why? Not your fault, isit?”
“No, but it seems unfair that you came here for help and all I can do is pass you from pillar topost.”
Angelo stood. His gaze was directed at his feet as he seemed to manoeuvre himself with more care than necessary, but when he looked up, the dull haze had faded, and in its place was a malevolence that was almost frightening. “Don’t worry about it, mate. Twenty minutes on the train is nothing. Besides, it ain’t like you walked in here and fucked me, isit?”
