” His hand was on my arm pulling me back towards him.“Let me go.” I pulled away sharply and remembered my phone. “Riley?”His voice changed t... a deeper concern with an edge of anger. “Who is that? Who's there with you?”The guy leaned toward me so that his face was very near the microphone of my cell, almost as if he were trying to speak straight into it. “Let's have some fun, baby. Put that phone away.” He was grabbing at me, trying to wrap an arm around my waist. “What's going on?” Riley's. They refused to share it outside the family, something I regarded as an excess of family pride over sharing an intellectual gem with the world.I had never known at the time that her grand-mère had kept a diary, although I should have suspected it. It was very common among the wealthy and the aristocracy to have a daily journal.Then she came to a point where she hesitated before speaking and when she did speak it was barely above a whisper. A bit melodramatic and one would think. More

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