Page 41 of Mace
I rush through the flat and drag open the front door without checking the peephole. My heart sinks into the floor when it’s not blonde hair I see but grey.
It’s not Ivy… but Bernie.
Fuck. He is the last person I want to deal with. I have some of the rent, but I’m still about a thousand pounds short, and I’m guessing Bernie wants his payment.
I force a smile onto my face that is becoming harder and harder to maintain. “Hey, Bernie.”
He peers around me, trying to see into the flat, so I step forward, pulling the door behind me. “Your payment was a little light this month, Miss Fernsby.”
A chill slithers up my spine. I detest when he calls me that.
“I know. I’m sorry. I should have the rest by Friday.”
He tsks at me, like I’m ten years old, and I understand his frustration, but I can’t change anything. I lost two shifts, and with them, my tips.
“This isn’t a charity, Maylie. I have expenses to pay. I can’t tell the bank I don’t have their payment because my tenant won’t have it until Friday.”
“I understand, and I’m sorry. I just got a little behind. I have most of it. I can pay you what I have.”
He seems disappointed by this offer, waving a hand in my direction. “Transfer it over.”
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and open my banking app. I try not to dwell on how empty my account is as I send over everything I can, leaving enough to pay for groceries and Toby’s school stuff.
Bernie’s phone beeps as the transfer completes, and he glances down at the screen. “That’s not even half of what you owe.”
“I know. I’m trying my best here, Bernie. I’ve given you everything I have. Please, just… give me some time.”
He pockets the phone before he leans against the door jamb, his arms over his head as his gaze drops to my mouth. The gesture would be attractive from someone like Mace, but Bernie turns my stomach. He’s not a bad-looking guy, but there’s something about him that sets off all my alarm bells. “If you’re having problems, I’m sure we can come to some kind of… arrangement.”
“Like a payment plan or something?”
His thumb runs over his bottom lip as he stares at me. “Or something else more…enjoyable.”
It clicks what he’s suggesting. Dirty, fuckingpervert.
“I’ll get you the money.”
I try to shut the door, but his foot sticks in the gap, andmy fear ratchets up a notch as I meet his gaze. “It would be a shame if you and those two kids suddenly found yourselves homeless.”
My heart contracts, and for the second time this week, I find myself looking into the eyes of a man who wants to use me for his own gain.
Is that all I am to them? A toy to be played with?
“Please take your foot out the door.”
“What’s going on?” Toby’s voice sounds from behind me.
I twist to look over my shoulder, a whole new terror clutching me. My brother is standing behind me, his hair ruffled, the band T-shirt and sweats he’s wearing rumpled, but his eyes are alert. He may only be twelve years old, but he looks ready to throw down.
Before things get out of control, I force a smile. “Everything is fine. Bernie was just leaving.”
My landlord gives me a dark smirk. “Think about what I said, Miss Fernsby.”
Eww.
I don’t give him a smile as he pulls his foot free of the door, allowing me to close it. It takes everything I have not to slam it in his face, but I slowly shut it, as if my pulse isn’t pounding in my ears.
I take a steadying breath before I turn back to face my brother, painting yet another smile in place. My face is getting tired of faking emotions. “I’m surprised to see you up so early. What’s the matter? Did the bed set on fire?”