“You’ve had a long day. How about I get you inside and show you around the house?”
“I would love that.”
Charles dipped his head to Pops. “Welcome home, Carl.”
Aiden hung back with Pops, and I darted inside with Charles, clinging to his hip. I didn’t want to miss a thing, taking in every room and piece of art, especially the paintings. There were five sitting rooms on the first floor alone, two dens, a living room larger than my entire house, and two kitchens.
Charles explained that one kitchen was for the live-in chefs and the other for the family. I was in awe, shaking my head in disbelief at everything he pointed out.
“And this is your bedroom, Miss Alexandrea,” Charles said, steering me into a room with a high ceiling, a four-poster bed, and grand furniture.
With a running start, I flopped onto the bed, unable to contain my excitement. The mattress was at least four times the size of my old, lumpy one, and it was soft, like sleeping on a cloud.
Charles laughed. “I take it you approve of the bed.”
I rolled onto my back and sighed. “I love it. I never want to leave.”
“You don’t have to,” Charles said. “This is your home now. You’re a Wellington.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I thought about what that meant.
I was a Wellington.
All my life, I was told white trash like me would never amount to anything. That I wasn’t good enough.
“Your etiquette coaches will arrive tomorrow morning.” Charles stood by the bed, arms behind his back. “So expect to rise bright and early for your first lesson.”
I sat up. “Why do I need etiquette coaches?”
“Your grandfather thought it was best for you to learn how to become a lady. If you’d had the traditional Wellington upbringing, you would have learned proper etiquette… and, shall we say, how to attract a husband.”
“Oh,” I mouthed. “So, this has to do with those guys my grandfather mentioned?”
“The Salvatore brothers, yes.”
“But I know how to act,” I said in defense. “I’m poor, not stupid.”
“Oh, of course not,” Charles stammered. “Your grandfather thought it was best for you to learn certain social graces your parents wouldn’t have taught you.”
Pops appeared in the entryway with Aiden. He patted Charles on the back. “I’ll take it from here.”
Charles grinned, closing the door as he left.
Aiden plopped on the bed beside me, our grandfather taking the armchair in the corner.
“There are a few things you should know about the Salvatore brothers,” Pops said, giving me a cautious look. “All four of them have been through an immense amount of trauma. You might find that you have more in common with them than not. But I must warn you about them.”
Aiden glared at him but kept his thoughts to himself. My brother acted first and asked questions later.
“Luca is the oldest and the meanest,” Pops said, leaning back in the chair. “He turned nineteen in July, a few months ahead of Damian and Bastian. But mentally, he’s much older. Luca is gifted, but even as a child, he was not right. His mother worried about his mental state.”
“So, he’s nuts?” Aiden frowned. “Awesome. Sounds like a great pick for my sister.”
Pops shook his head. “Luca has the means and intelligence to give Alex an enjoyable life. He has an IQ of 165 and is highly skilled at manipulating people. With that said, he has a few screws loose. Evangeline was a dear friend of mine. We were very close, and she confided in me. She was the only person who kept Luca grounded. And when she died?—”
“What did he do?” I muttered.
“Luca tried to kill Marcello.”
