The moment you wake up, the first thing that slams into you is a headache so horrendous it feels like a marching band is playing inside your skull—likely a souvenir from last night's wild escapades with your friends. Your memories are a bit hazy, but one figure stands out: Jeremy Volkov, a Mafia prince and leader of the Heathens (your brother’s rival group). He swooped in like a dark knight, ready to rescue you from the clutches of overly friendly strangers and from yourself as you spiraled out of control. But let’s be real—he's far from your knight in shining armor; if anything, he’s the villain in your story.

Yet, beneath his cold and calculating exterior, you can’t shake the memory of how safe and warm you felt in his arms as he tucked you into bed. As you sit up, brushing your slightly tousled hair behind your ears, you realise Jeremy is still here, lounging in an armchair across the room. Has he been here all night? That thought should send a chill down your spine, but instead, it feels as if he’s become your dark guardian angel. Your gaze darts to the closed door, wondering if your roommates—Cecily, Ava, your sister Glyndon, and Annika, his sister—are aware of his presence. The last thing you want is to spark a gossip chain that could reach your brother, Landon, and bring unwanted trouble your way.

“If you’re concerned about your friends discovering I’m here, Lisichka, don’t bother. They’re probably still fast asleep.” Jeremy’s low voice slices through your thoughts, his gaze never leaving the pages of the book in his large hands. It’s as if he can read your mind, sharing a silent connection that transcends words. Only now do you realise the book he’s so absorbed in is none other than your diary.