My Bad Boy Alibi

SERAPHINA

The basement library was so cold enough to numb my fingers as I dragged a wooden stool across the floor. Setting it near the end of the research aisle, I reached for the top binder on the shelf.

Almost immediately, my hand slipped on the smooth plastic edge.

"Ow, shit!" I hissed under my breath, pulling my hand back sharply. A fresh slice across my palm was already leaking dark red onto the cuff of my grey sweater.

I pulled a wad of paper towels out of my pocket, wrapped it tightly around my palm, and pulled the thirty-pound binder down onto my lap anyway. There was no use going to the nurse anyway.

If this paper wasn't on Professor Terrett's desk by six in the morning, my grade would drop. And if my grade dropped below a 3.98, my father will cancel my housing allowance.

That was the deal we made.

At that moment, a pair of polished black leather shoes stopped right beside my stool.

"You missed a spot on the glass, Sena."

I didn't look up from my laptop as I could tell who it was. "I'm working on my mid-term research, Damon. It's due in five hours."

Damon reached down and slammed my laptop screen shut.

I flinched, my fingers tightening over my bandaged hand. I looked up into the arrogant face of my half-brother, Damon Cross. He stood there in his navy Rurvail blazer, looking like he belonged on a recruitment poster.

As President of the Vesper Council and head of the student body, he ran this campus, and he made sure I remembered my place every single day.

"I don't care about your stupid paper," Damon said, his voice flat and controlled. "The Board of Trustees lands on the island at eight. And as you know, Father is on that helicopter. The Vesper Council lounge is messy, and you're down here reading."

"The lounge is the council's responsibility," I said, keeping my voice calm. "I'm not on the council, Damon."

"You're on this island because Father pays your tuition," he countered, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. "You're the illegitimate secret he pays to keep out of the newspapers, Sena. You get a dorm room here because you're useful and quiet. Now get up and clean the lounge before I tell Father you were slacking."

"I have a class at seven," I said softly, swallowing the tight lump in my throat. "And I'm not yet done with my paper.”

Damon pulled a silver keycard from his pocket and tossed it onto my closed laptop. It hit the metal casing with a clack.

"The cleaning staff doesn't care about making Father look good," Damon said, stepping back and adjusting his cuffs. "You do, Seraphina. If Father sees one dirty glass in that room, I'll remind him how much money he wastes on your housing allowance every month. Do we have an understanding?"

I stared at the silver keycard resting on my computer. I wanted to throw it at his face. I wanted to tell him to do his own job. But if I lost my housing allowance, I was off this island, back in my mother's small apartment with zero future.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good girl," Damon said smoothly. He turned on his heel and walked out of the library basement, his shoes echoing off the stone floor until the double doors swung shut behind him.

I sat there in the silence for a long minute, my chest feeling so tight I could barely draw air.

Just one more year, I told myself, pressing my injured hand against my ribs. Get the degree, get a job, and never look at any of them again.

I crammed my notes into my backpack, pulled my coat around my shoulders, and grabbed Damon’s keycard. To get to the Vesper Council building, the fastest way was through the back archival exit that led to the central courtyard.

I unbolted the wooden door leading into the restricted stack area.

Thud.

A quiet, metallic sound echoed from the far corner of the storage room and I froze mid-step immediately.

Normally, the basement archives are locked automatically at ten at night. Nobody was supposed to be down here except the head librarian and the Dean.

I backed up slowly, slipping into the dark corner between two large pillars, keeping my breathing as shallow as possible.

Click.

The steel door to the Dean’s private vault… the high-security room where Rurvail kept its confidential donor files and off-the-books financial records … swung open.

A tall guy stepped out into the dim moonlight filtering through the high narrow windows.

He definitely wasn't wearing a Rurvail uniform. He wore a black leather jacket over dark jeans, his collar open, revealing jagged black ink creeping up the side of his neck.

Kaelen Voss.

The campus black sheep. The guy who rode a black motorcycle across the quad at three in the morning, ignored every rule the Vesper Council set, and treated Rurvail’s elite like they were beneath his boots.

In his gloved hand, Kaelen was holding a hard drive he had just pulled straight from the Dean's server rack. He looked totally calm, slipping the drive into the inside pocket of his jacket like he was picking up mail.

I held my breath, pressing my back against the concrete. Just keep moving, I thought. Just leave.

I took a tiny, careful step back toward the exit.

Creak.

The floorboard beneath my shoe groaned but in the dead silence of the basement, it sounded like a glass breaking.

Kaelen’s head snapped toward my pillar in an instant.

Before I could turn to run, a hand reached around the wall, locking onto my wrist with a firm, inescapable grip and yanking me straight into the moonlight.

"Well, well," Kaelen said, his dark eyes sweeping over me. "What is Senator Cross's quiet little secret doing sneaking around the Dean's vault at midnight?"

"I wasn't sneaking," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs as I tried to pull my wrist out of his grip. He didn't budge. "You're the one breaking into a locked vault."

Kaelen smirked, taking a step closer until my back hit the pillar. He was taller than me, smelling faintly of leather and some nice cologne.

"I'm taking back what belongs to my family," Kaelen said, his eyes dropping to my hand. He noticed the blood-soaked paper towels wrapped around my palm, then looked down at the silver card I was clutching in my other hand. "And you're holding a Vesper Council master key. Looks like we both have bad habits, sweetheart."

"Let go of me, Kaelen," I demanded, keeping my voice low so it wouldn't echo up the stairs. "I didn't see anything. I'm just leaving."

"You saw plenty," Kaelen murmured, leaning in just enough that I could see the sharp, calculating look in his dark eyes. "And if I let you walk out that door, you're going straight to your golden-boy brother to trade my name for a pat on the head."

"I don't give a damn about Damon!" I snapped, my temper flaring past my fear for a split second.

Kaelen paused, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he registered the genuine hatred in my voice when I said my brother's name. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

"Is that so?" Kaelen asked softly, his grip on my wrist relaxing just a fraction, though he didn't let go. "Then maybe you and I can make a deal."