Page 11 of Vicious Addictions

I swallow dryly since I never even considered that Jude might have to do that.

But then again, if he works for my father, it’s only a matter of time before he has to.

“It’s called being emotionally evolved,” I reply instead, needing to push that thought out of my mind. “You should try it sometime.”

“Pass. It will be a cold day in hell before you catch me writing down my feelings and shit. Especially since that’s a good way to get caught byThe Yard. Your father won’t be happy about this when we tell him.”

“Who says we are?”

When Rolo turns his gaze away from mine, I give him another punch.

“Is that why we really stormed Jude’s room? For you and Remus to find dirt on him? I thought you were here to help me.”

“Both things can be true,” he retorts with a shrug.

“Get out! You had your fun.”

“Not before I read what Shakespeare has written down.”

But before Rolo has time to crack Jude’s journal open, I snatch it away from his hands and hide it behind my back.

“Give it here, Mina. I’m not messing around.”

“You want it? Come and get it. I dare you.”

He gazes at me with steely eyes, yet he doesn’t dare put his hands on me in the end.

“Fine. Keep the damn journal. Just know that I’m going to tell Uncle Victor about it either way.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s going to stop me?”

I eat the distance between us and look him dead in the eye.

“You won’t say anything because I’m asking you not to. That should suffice. I would do it for you.”

“Fuck. You don’t play fair, Mina.”

“Like any of us do?” I chuckle.

“Fair point. Fine. Keep the fucking journal. It was the only good thing in here, anyway. Aside from that, Pretty Boy is as clean-cut as they come. Boring. Just like you. Now I see why you like him so much.”

“Hardy har har,” I joke sarcastically.

Rolo walks out of the room to join his twin while I put Jude’s journal back on top of his nightstand.

But before I can take a step away from it, my curiosity starts to take over once more.

“Don’t do it, Mina. Don’t do it,” I tell myself while I stare at the black leather journal, taunting me to read its pages.

I wouldn’t like it if someone read my diary—if I had one, that is. Growing up with those two little renegade monsters, I quickly learned never to pen down my inner thoughts at the risk of having them used against me.

I should probably tell Jude that he can’t keep something so personal like that lying around. But if I did that, then I’d have to admit to snooping in his room.

And there is no way I’m telling him that. He already acts like I’m a child. I refuse to give him the ammo to prove that I am one.

Problems… problems… problems.

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