Page 4 of Dirty Heirs

Sonny cupped my shoulder while Marcello backed Luca into the lockers to separate us.

“Don’t start with him,” Sonny warned. “You won’t win a fight with Luca.”

I shoved his hand off my shoulder. “Don’t tell me what to do, Pretty Boy. I won’t stand here and let them threaten my sister.”

“No one’s threatening anyone,” Bastian chimed, rolling his eyes like he was bored with this conversation. “Chill the fuck out.”

“Time to get going, Wellington.” Luca flung out his hand to dismiss me. “You can’t afford to miss a class. Not with your horrible grades.”

“Aid, please,” Alex begged me with her eyes, pleading for me to leave her with these arrogant jerks. “Just go. I’ll see you after school.”

Alex was strong, even when she saw herself as weak. Like me, she was a survivor. To put up with our mother, she had to be tough. Alex could handle the Salvatore brothers.

I let our fingers brush once more. “I’ll meet you here after school.”

She nodded, a sad expression crossing her face as I walked away.

I hated leaving her.

Sonny joined me seconds later. “You’re either brave or stupid.” His palm slammed into my back, nearly knocking the wind out of me. “But I like you, Wellington. You got balls. Not many people have the guts to stand up to Luca.”

“I’ve dealt with worse than him,” I fired back. “And when it comes to my sister, there’s nothing I won’t do for her.”

“Yeah.” He let out a throaty chuckle. “I can see that. It’s kinda hot seeing you stand up to the Salvatore brothers.”

I snapped my head at him. “I’m not into pretty boys.”

“Everyone is into me.” He smirked, confident that he was a gift to the world and everyone in it. “You’ll see. Give it time.”

Cocky motherfucker.

When the hallway split into two, he darted in the opposite direction without another word.

I bet everyone was into him.

Me included.

Chapter Three

ELLA

A newbie walked into my class, a paintbrush tucked behind his right ear like a cigarette. He was tall and blond, rough around the edges. And with the sleeves of his Astor Prep jacket shoved up to his elbows, I could see the dark ink on his muscular forearms.

He didn’t blend well with the other students. Not with all those tattoos, his untucked dress shirt, and the gold tie hanging around his neck. He looked uncomfortable wearing the academy uniform, even though he wore it better than anyone else.

He handed a slip of paper to Mrs. Waters.

She glanced at it and smiled. “We have a new student,” Mrs. Waters announced. “This is Aiden Wellington. Please welcome him to Astor Prep.”

As in the Wellingtons?

Last I checked, Carl didn’t have any sons. He disowned his daughter years ago and hasn’t allowed her to return to Devil’s Creek since. Maybe he’s one of his grandchildren? Or perhaps the old man adopted a grown man.

“Take a seat, Aiden,” Mrs. Waters said with a sweet smile.

Astor Prep was an elite preparatory school for the children of wealthy men with plenty of money to spend on their fancy educations. But even money couldn’t buy your way into this class. You had to submit your portfolio for review the previous school year. Of course, one of Carl Wellington’s heirs could waltz in here with only a few months left until graduation. The rules didn’t apply to people like them.

I sat in the back of the classroom, where I preferred to sit alone. No one talked to me at Astor Prep because of my family. They were so afraid of pissing off my father and brothers. Everyone in the state feared Cian Doyle and his terrible sons.

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