A Dirty Little Diary

Declan’s POV

I bolted toward the gap between the rusted shipping containers, my boots splashing in the mud with my blood singing. I lived for this kind of adrenaline, that thrill of almost getting caught.

“Where the hell did they go?” I muttered, swiping the freezing rain out of my eyes as I rounded the corner.

The narrow corridor was completely empty. Whoever had been spying on us was already gone, swallowed up by the panicked stampede pouring out of the fighting ring.

Silas stepped up silently beside me and he didn’t even look out of breath. “They moved fast,” he observed, his eyes scanning the darkness with terrifying precision.

“Not fast enough,” I grinned.

I crouched down, my eyes catching on a lump of dark soaked canvas half-buried in a muddy puddle. I reached out and yanked it up by the strap. It was a backpack so cheap, worn out and practically falling apart at the seams.

“Look what our little rat left behind,” I said, holding the dripping bag up like a prized trophy. “Let’s see what we’ve got in here.”

I started to pull at the zipper, but a hand clamped down hard on my shoulder.

“Not now, Declan,” Jasper said, already looking over his shoulder toward the flashing lights at the end of the street. “The cops are literally thirty seconds away. We need to go. Now.”

“Oh, come on, Jas,” I complained, though I was already following him back down the alley. “Don’t you want to know who was watching us?”

“I want to not get arrested for aggravated assault,” Jasper shot back, his long strides eating up the pavement. “Move your ass.”

We didn’t need to be told twice. We slipped through a broken chain-link fence, bypassed the main road entirely and jogged two blocks over to where our private driver, Marcus was waiting with the engine running.

I dove into the back of the stretched black limousine, bringing a ridiculous amount of rainwater and mud onto the white seats. Jasper and Silas slid in right after me, bringing the cold night air with them and the doors slammed shut, instantly cutting off the wail of the sirens.

“Home, Marcus,” Jasper ordered, dragging a hand through his wet dark hair. “And take the back roads.”

The limo glided smoothly away from the curb and I let out a loud breathless laugh, kicking my muddy boots up onto the opposite seat.

“Well, that was fun,” I said, shaking the water out of my hair like a wet dog. “Mickey squealed like a pig, didn’t he?”

Silas ignored me. He was already pouring himself a neat glass of scotch from the limo’s mini-bar, completely unfazed by the chaos we had just escaped. Jasper just scowled out the tinted window, his jaw clenched tight.

Since nobody wanted to play, I turned my attention back to the prize sitting in my lap and yanked the zipper of the soaked backpack open then dumped the contents right onto the empty seat between me and Silas.

A handful of plastic pens rolled across the upholstery, a cracked calculator and a few textbooks.

“Kingsborough University,” I read aloud, tracing the damp emblem on the cover of an Advanced Statistics textbook. I raised an eyebrow, a slow wicked grin spreading across my face. “Well, look at that. Our little rat goes to our school.”

I flipped through a spiral notebook. The handwriting was tiny, meticulous and loopy.. definitely a girl. I dug deeper into the bag, my fingers brushing against something soft and pulled it out. It was a small notebook bound in worn faux leather but it didn’t look like a textbook.

“What is that?” Jasper asked, finally pulling his gaze away from the window.

“I think,” I said, tapping the cover playfully, “we just found a diary.”

Silas paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “Read it.”

I didn’t need to be convinced. I flipped the book open to a random page near the middle. The paper was slightly damp at the edges but the ink was perfectly legible. I cleared my throat, putting on my most dramatic and theatrical voice.

“‘I saw him again today in the library,’” I read aloud. “‘He smiled at me and I swear my heart completely stopped. He is so perfect. His hair always looks like he just ran his hands through it and his eyes…’” I paused, fighting back a smirk. “Okay, this is getting a little poetic. Let’s skip ahead to the good stuff.”

I flipped a few pages further back, my eyes scanning the dense blocks of text and then, I stopped. My eyebrows practically shot right off my forehead.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out, leaning closer to the page just to make sure I was actually reading it correctly.

“What?” Jasper demanded, leaning forward.

A loud, booming laugh burst out of my chest. I couldn’t help it. “Oh, you guys are not going to believe this. Our little spy is a massive freak.”

I adjusted my posture, holding the diary up to the ambient light of the limo.

“‘If he pushed me against the bookshelves, I wouldn’t even fight back,’” I read, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “‘I want him to take control. I want him to rip this stupid sweater off me. I can practically feel his hands gripping my thighs, bruising my skin, pushing his huge dick inside my tight and wet aching pussy while he whispers my name…’”

Jasper actually choked on his own spit and Silas slowly lowered his glass of scotch, his icy silver eyes suddenly locked entirely onto the little book in my hands.

“‘I touch myself thinking about him,’” I continued, thoroughly enjoying the complete shock radiating from my brothers. “‘Thinking about his mouth on mine so hard and demanding. I want him to ruin and ravage my pussy. I want Elijah to absolutely ruin me.’”

I snapped the book shut, completely losing my mind in a fit of genuine howling laughter.

“Elijah?” Jasper asked, his face twisting in disgust. “As in Elijah Brooks? The golden boy?”

“The one and only,” I wheezed, wiping a tear from my eye. “This girl is writing an erotica about Kingsborough’s favorite little choir boy. Oh, this is pure gold. This is blackmail heaven.”

“Who is it?” Silas asked. His voice was terrifyingly calm but there was a dangerous edge to it now.

I flipped to the inside cover of the diary. There, written in that same meticulous loopy handwriting was a name..

‘Liora Sinclair.’

I stared at the name for a long silent moment as the laughter completely died in my throat. I blinked, trying to connect the absolute filth I had just read with the face that belonged to that name.

“No freaking way,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“Who?” Jasper pushed, losing his patience.

“Liora Sinclair,” I said, tossing the book onto the seat.

Jasper frowned, clearly drawing a blank but Silas knew exactly who she was. He always knew everything about everyone.

“The scholarship girl,” Silas said softly, his eyes narrowing. “The one who hides in the back of the library with baggy clothes and doesn’t speak to anyone.”

“That’s her,” I confirmed, still completely mind-blown.

Liora Sinclair was a ghost. She was a total nerd and a wallflower who blended into the brickwork of the campus. I had seen her maybe twice in my entire life always buried behind a stack of books. To think that quiet invisible little mouse was harboring these kinds of wild aggressive fantasies? It was intoxicating..!

The limo finally slowed down, pulling into the private underground parking garage of our off-campus penthouse and we rode the private elevator up to the top floor in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts about the unexpected treasure we had just uncovered but the moment the elevator doors slid open into our massive glass-walled living room, the atmosphere completely shattered.

The private landline on the kitchen island was ringing in a harsh and jarring sound. We never used the landline.. only one person ever called that number.

Jasper’s broad shoulders instantly went rigid as he walked over to the island, his face set in stone and hit the speakerphone button.

“Hello, Father,” Jasper said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.

“Do you three have any idea what kind of mess I am currently cleaning up?” Father’s voice boomed through the quiet penthouse.

“We handled the situation with Mickey,” Jasper started to say but our father cut him off immediately.

“You didn’t handle anything!” He roared.

“Captain Reynolds called me five minutes ago. He was leading a raid on an illegal fighting ring in the industrial district. Imagine his shock when he spotted my three idiot sons fleeing the scene like common street thugs!”

I felt a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. We had been seen.

“We were just leaving, Dad,” I snapped, unable to keep my mouth shut.

“You will not speak to me with that tone, Declan!” my father growled through the speaker. “I have spent millions crafting the public image of this family. I am preparing you to take over a global empire and you are rolling around in the mud with criminals! I will not tolerate this embarrassment.”

“We’re sorry,” Jasper said through gritted teeth, though he looked like he wanted to punch a hole straight through the counter.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix this,” Father said coldly as his voice dropped to a deadly quiet register. “Listen to me very carefully. I checked your academic reports today and they are abysmal. You are failing your midterms. If you do not achieve absolute perfect grades by the end of this semester, I will liquidate your trust funds.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “You can’t do that.”

“I can seize every single asset you own,” Arthur continued, ignoring me completely. “I will take the cars, I will repossess the penthouse, I will freeze your accounts and I will personally ensure the Dean expels all three of you from Kingsborough University. You will have absolutely nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

Silence fell over us as we exchanged silent looks.

“Crystal,” Jasper finally forced out and the line went dead.

Jasper let out a violent yell and swiped his arm across the kitchen island, sending a glass fruit bowl shattering against the floor. I ran my hands through my wet hair, pacing aggressively in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Perfect grades?” I shouted, my temper completely flaring up. “We’re failing Advanced Microeconomics! We haven’t attended a single seminar in a month! How the hell are we supposed to pull perfect grades out of thin air?”

We were trapped. Our father wasn’t bluffing and he would absolutely destroy us just to prove a point. We needed a miracle.

Silas stepped slowly out of the shadows near the entryway. He walked over to the kitchen island and carefully placed the water-damaged diary down onto the surface and tapped his long fingers softly against the cover with an evil brilliant glint catching in his icy silver eyes.

“I think,” Silas murmured, his lips curling into a slow wicked smile, “I have a plan…”