Page 19 of Dirty Heirs

The driver opened the door for Alex, offering his hand to help her out of the car. “Welcome home, Miss Wellington. Your grandfather is waiting for you in his study.” Wayne’s eyes flicked to me as I got out of the car. “You, too, Mr. Wellington. He said it’s urgent.”

“What now?” I groaned, flinging our backpacks over my shoulder, and headed toward the house. “Never a dull fucking moment at this place.”

“It beats our old home,” Alex pointed out. “I’ll take living with Pops and Blair any day over our parents.”

“Blair,” I bit out with a snarl. “That fucking bitch grinds on my nerves. I can see where Mom learned how to parent us.”

Alex shivered at the mention of our mother and grandmonster from hell. Blair and Savannah were two peas from one fucked up pod. You could tell Blair raised our mom with strict rules. Nothing was ever good enough, and because of that, neither were we.

No one ever chose us.

So we chose each other.

The front doors opened as we approached the house, and the butler stepped between them, gliding toward us like he was walking on water. Charles was so damn graceful it amazed me. He was also a nice guy who treated us like kids and snuck us cookies when Blair wasn’t looking.

I liked Charles.

He was the grandfather I always wanted. Instead, I got Carl. The old man insisted we call him Pops and held our freedom and futures over our heads. Alex didn’t want to marry a Salvatore but felt she had no choice. Not with Pops ramming the marriage down her throat.

“Miss Alexandrea,” Charles said with a smile aimed at my sister before turning to look at me. “Master Aiden. How was school?”

I liked it when he called me that. Like, I was Batman, and he was Alfred.

After we moved here, I asked Charles how he became a butler. Apparently, there were training programs, which shocked the hell out of me. Who would want to train to become a servant? Especially for a bunch of ungrateful, spoiled assholes like the Wellingtons.

I still didn’t think of myself as a Wellington. Even with Luca and his brothers calling me that, it sounded unnatural. I would never feel like a Wellington or act like one.

“It was okay, I guess,” Alex confessed as she followed Charles inside the house, clinging to his side. “We’re still getting used to Devil’s Creek.”

And everyone in it.

I had more in common with Charles than Sonny. That pretty boy would never understand my life. He didn’t know what it was like to go days without eating, hanging on for Monday so I could get the free food at school. None of these rich pricks ever lit the stove with a match because the power was off again and needed heat.

Alex and I knew hardship.

We were survivors.

I couldn’t say the same for the Founders and their kids. They only knew how to take and keep taking until they bled you dry.

Charles led us to the back of the house and into our grandfather’s study. The room had distressed leather furniture from another era, like an old Western saloon at high noon. A wooden bar spanned one side of the right wall. Two nailhead couches were between a coffee table carved from a tree trunk. Like most things in the house, it was expensive and handmade.

Carl sat behind an oversized desk fit for the president, hands clasped before him. A fireplace was behind him, with a deer head hanging over the mantle.

No way Carl shot that deer.

I laughed at the thought.

“Hello, Pops,” Alex said with an award-winning smile worthy of an Oscar as she strolled toward his desk. “You wanted to see us.”

My twin was so happy to be away from our mother that she didn’t see Carl playing games with her. She didn’t care he was using her. And if she was happy, then so was I.

“How did the Salvatore boys treat you, princess?” Carl glanced at Alex for an answer, eyebrows raised.

One day, Alex would be the Queen of The Devil’s Knights. A provision our grandfather insisted on when he agreed to the marriage. He said it was the only way to ensure Alex’s safety. I didn’t want her to be involved with a secret society of billionaires. But I would play along if it kept her safe until we escaped this place.

“They’re kinda mean,” she told him. “But no worse than my mom. I can handle them.”

“She’s not telling you the truth,” I interjected. “Luca made her get on her knees in the dining hall. The other two put their fucking hands on her like she’s their property. I’m not okay with this, Pops.”

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