Page 63 of Mastered By Desire

“Paxton, would you take some photos of her tires and text them to me, please?”

“Sure thing,” Paxton says.

“Thank you.”

Leah gives him a wave as I help her into my car. She tries to grab the seat belt, but I’m faster. I wrap it carefully around her and click it into place.

“I can buckle myself up, you know,” she says.

“Or you can let someone take care of you.”

We drive in silence, away from the Dorado Heights district in the center of San Esteban, and toward Old Thirty-Three.

“You’ll have to give me directions,” I finally say. “I don’t know where Dmitri lives.”

“How do you know I’m staying with him, anyway?”

“I saw you come to the club and pick up a key.”

“Oh. Right.” She fiddles with the hem of her dress. “You aren’t jealous that I’m staying with him, but doing things with you?”

I glance over at her. “Jealousy is beneath me, but it would be a lie to say I don’t feel it. Outside of a scene, I don’t own you, Leah. And even within a scene, I don’t own you. You are completely in charge.”

She jerks her head in a quick nod, but I’m not certain she agrees with me. I try to view the night from her point of view. It makes sense that she would feel out of control and powerless. I spent an hour with her, building her up and helping her realize her power. Yet as soon as she left my office and my influence, she found herself a victim. Worse, the photographs were taken earlier when she wasn’t aware. She was in the presence of danger and never knew it.

She directs me to Dmitri’s house. It’s a small building with a tidy lawn. No frills. Not unlike Dmitri. Simple. Strong. The neighbors’ houses are fairly close, and I don’t like the lack of good streetlights or the way the nearby houses cast shadows over Dmitri’s.

“I’ll walk you up,” I say.

“You don’t need to.”

“I know.”

She sighs, but it isn’t a snarky, disrespectful sigh. It’s more that she sounds tired and defeated.

I stay close to her side as we go up the walk. When she puts her key in the lock, the door opens from inside.

Dmitri stands in the doorway. “Leah? What’s—why is he here? Where’s your car?”

“I don’t want to talk,” she says, brushing past him and into the house.

“Leah, wait,” Dmitri says.

“No.” Her voice sounds faint, like she’s already taken herself to the far reaches of the small space.

I look over the doorframe. No doorbell cam. She’s supposed to be safe here? I bet Dmitri doesn’t even have a simple alarm system.

“What the fuck happened?” Dmitri turns angrily to me. “What thefuckdid you do to her?”

“Nothing.” I can’t help but add, “Nothing she didn’t want, anyway.”

I’m being an immature dick.

I should care about this.

However, I don’t.

Dmitri doesn’t accept that as an answer, and I don’t blame him. “You better fucking tell me what happened. You’re at my house now. You aren’t my boss here.”

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