Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me

I wonder how much trouble I’ll get into if I pour scalding coffee all over Professor Lincoln or stab the hand he’s running down my arm with a fork.

I grimace, hoping it passes off as a polite smile as I pull my arm away from his. “I understand, Professor; I’ll get the papers to you on Monday, I promise.”

Elias Lincoln, my Fundamentals of Genetics Professor and the biggest sleazebag to walk the planet, leers at me, his mud-colored eyes raking my body in a way that makes me shiver with disgust.

“You know, April,” he says huskily, “as my TA, I expect more from you.”

I swallow, turning back to the coffee order I’m preparing. Fridays are always busy at Rover, the local campus café. The last thing I need is my perverted Professor trying to petition me at my second job by using my first job as an excuse.

“I understand, Professor,” I answer, trying to concentrate on drawing the leaf art on the latte I’ve made. “I’ve been a little busy, but I’ll come through.”

“You know you’re also failing my class, right, April?”

I sigh. “I’ll come through, Professor,” I repeat.

“You know, if being a Teaching Assistant is too much work, there are…other things you can do for the pay.” My hand jerks when he reaches for me again and runs a finger up my arm. I hiss as some coffee spills over, scalding my hand.

I glance over at Mindy, my manager. Our eyes meet briefly, and I know she sees the pleading in mine, but she looks away, ignoring the fact that I’m being harassed right under her nose.

“That’s okay,” I grit out as I set about making a fresh cup.

“I could also tutor you?” His hand trails further up my arm, and I freeze when he brushes it against my boob. “Privately, of course.”

“If you’re done with your coffee, Professor,” I grit out, taking a deliberate step back, “we’re kind of busy today.”

The scumbag smirks. “Three days.”

“What?”

“If you don’t agree to my private tutoring in three days, I’ll have to find another TA.”

I gape, feeling equal parts terrified and angry. “You’ll fire me because I won’t sleep with you?” I ask incredulously.

He shakes his head. “Why do you have to make it sound so vulgar?”

“Because that’s what it is,” I hiss.

“I need this job, Professor.” My tone turns pleading. “My sister has pediatric type 1 diabetes and I’m her guardian, we have no insurance and her care is so expensive, I—”

“All I’m hearing is you could use the extra tutoring.” He stands and smirks. “Three days, April.”

And then he’s gone.

I stare at the glass door in utter disbelief, feeling like I’m going to drown—under the weight of his proposal, the consequences if I refuse. The absolute shit storm my life is in.

If I lose the TA job, I won’t be able to afford June’s medications, half of the rent, or next semester’s tuition.

A tear slides down my face, dropping into the coffee cup in my hand with a tiny splash.

“Hi, Lou,” I greet when I arrive at my apartment in the evening.

My roommate, Louise, turns to me from her perch on the couch. “April!” She mutes the TV and bounds over to me to give me a hug.

“Hi,” I sigh against her, feeling the weight of the day threaten to drag me down.

“April…” She pulls away slightly, and her sharp blue eyes study me, no doubt noting my red-rimmed eyes and the eye bags underneath. “You good?”

I shrug, dropping the grocery bags on the counter.

“Where’s June?”

“Sleeping,” Louise answers.

I glance at my watch. “Has she—”

“Gotten her insulin shot and had a chicken sandwich for dinner—whole wheat bread.”

I give my roommate a tired smile. “You’re a godsend, Lou; I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She shrugs. “Anything I can to help. You run yourself ragged, April.”

I sigh, unpacking the groceries. “I’m all she has.”

“April—”

“If I don’t work hard, if I don’t get money for her medication and something happens to her—” I take in a shuddering breath as an image flashes through my mind. Of my parents—lying dead on the floor after overdosing together on heroin.

I shake my head, forcing the memory away.

“I can’t lose her, too.”

Louise sighs, taking the box of cereal from my hand. “What about yourself?” she asks, moving for the cupboard. “You entered school on an academic scholarship and now you’re barely scraping C’s because you’re too exhausted and burnt out. You’d be off your scholarship if not for your TA job and—”

“Professor Lincoln wants to fuck me.”

Louise pauses. “What?”

I shrug helplessly, feeling tears form in my eyes. “If I don’t agree in three days, I’ll lose the job.”

“Oh, April,” she sighs and pulls me into her embrace, stroking my back lovingly. “You poor thing.”

I sniff, resting my chin in the crook of her neck. “I’m so tired, Lou,” I whisper.

I’m glad June is asleep. I always have to be brave for my little sister. If she ever knew what a mess I really am…

She can’t handle losing the last parental figure in her life.

“Let’s report him to Student Affairs,” Louise says.

I scoff. “I have no proof; it’ll be my word against hi—”

I freeze, my gaze zeroing in on the TV behind Louise.

“What?” she asks as she pulls back.

I stare at the TV—at the interview going on. A man and a woman in their fifties, with three boys in their twenties standing behind them, smiling at the camera politely.

“Lou,” I whisper. “Volume.”

“What?”

“Volume,” I insist, staring at the boy in the middle.

Short dark curls, wickedly intelligent green eyes, sinfully luscious mouth. A face carved by the gods themselves.

“This is a joke, right?” Cruel mocking laughter. “Me, kiss you? I’d rather eat shit.”

More laughter, cruel and mocking—and the sound of my young, teenage heart shattering.

Louise finds the remote, and soon, sound fills the room.

“…and there you have it,” the reporter is saying. “Ladies, it’s your chance to participate in a real-life version of The Bachelor. The Ashfords are accepting applications for brides for their three eligible sons—Lucas, Peter, and Nathan. The three heirs must find suitable wives to enable them to move forward and start a new generation of Ashford leadership.”

I swallow hard. Nathan Ashford. My high school crush—no, crush is too small a word.

My first love.

And my first heartbreak.