Page 69 of Dirty Heirs

The seal was already broken, and as I pulled out the single page, my dad smirked. Dread filled my insides. Before I read the letter, I knew what it would say.

I didn’t get into art school.

Fuck.

As I weighed my options, I realized I had none. So, I decided to play the role of the dutiful daughter. I would never be allowed to sleep at Aiden’s house if I didn’t comply.

Holding my head high, I plastered on a fake smile. “Fine. I’ll sit with Kieran at the dinner.”

He smirked. “I knew you would see it my way.”

Chapter Thirty-One

ELLA

As I stepped outside the hair salon, I glanced around the vacant street, gripping the cell phone. My father’s driver dropped me off and promised to return at five o’clock. The stupid benefactors’ dinner started at seven, and it was unlike Thomas to leave me hanging.

Where the fuck is he?

I considered calling him for a ride and dismissed the thought. I lived five blocks away and could use the little bit of freedom. It wasn’t that often I had alone time. My father was overprotective and always had his men watch over me.

I understood it came with the territory. I was the only daughter of an Irish Mob boss, and my family had a lot of enemies. We could never be too careful. Still, it sucked not having a life, always having to watch my back.

I didn’t want to end up like my mother.

That night still haunted me.

Those men.

What they did to her.

I closed my eyes and blocked out the bad memories, allowing my mind to wander back to a better time. The protective detail was for the best. It was a good thing my father cared enough to keep me alive.

Breathe.

Let go.

Forget.

I repeated this process several times before I opened my eyes, staring at the shops across the street. It was Saturday, and most stores in Beacon Bay were closed by dinnertime. Only bars, restaurants, and one gas station were open at night.

A chill blew off the bay and sent a shiver down my arms. The wind smacked my freshly styled hair in my face, a few strands sticking to my lipstick. I peeled the hair from my lips and tucked it behind my ears, not wanting to ruin my new look.

I could never replicate what my stylist did to my hair. Stella was like a magician and always worked her magic with my hair. But once I got home and washed it, that was it. My hair looked flat and lifeless because I had no idea what I was doing.

I checked again for a missed call or text from Thomas. And since he was still not here and hadn’t reached out, I walked down Market Street. My dad was probably keeping him busy. He would ride by me on the way home and feel horrible I walked alone.

But I didn’t mind.

It was a nice change of pace.

I plucked the wireless earbuds from my purse and synced the Bluetooth with my phone. Tucking the bag under my arm, I headed down Market Street, passing the deli. The owner flipped the CLOSED sign on the glass door, holding my gaze.

I waved.

He snarled and turned away.

Most of the people in Beacon Bay were afraid of my father. They either owed him money, or they’d seen his power firsthand.

---