Page 25 of Mastered By Bliss

“That, Dmitri, is my number one goal.”

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Leah

Today, my bodyguard is a woman named Lauren.Her blond hair is pulled tight in a braided crown around her head.Like Cora, she looks like she could bring a knife to a gunfight and win.Heck, she could probably win with a nail file.

Gage stayed in LA last night.He put me on the phone with Claudia, who spent the night in the hospital for observation—they were worried about internal injuries.Jess was hit harder.She was left with a broken arm, and needed surgery for internal bleeding.“We’re shaken up, Leah, but we’re okay,” Claudia said.“Thanks for sparing Gage for us.”

“Of course.I wish I could be there, too.”

“We’ll have a proper visit once I’m out of rehab, okay?”

I agreed, spoke briefly to Gage, and waited up for Dmitri.He and I fucked again in Gage’s bed, which felt so wrong and so right at the same time.

And thankfully, Dmitri didn’t bring up any difficult topics afterward.

Now, Lauren is accompanying me to Dmitri’s place.Because I never throw away books, I have some of my old SAT prep books in Dmitri’s garage.They’re outdated, but one of them came with a really great appendix of test-taking skill-builders and hacks that will resonate with not only my student Hector, but several of the students in Olivia’s program.

I let myself into Dmitri’s house, then go to the garage.Last time I was in here without Dmitri, Patrick showed up.

I wonder how I didn’t realize something was off with him, then.He was still someone I considered a friend.

Maybe my instincts are broken.

I square my shoulders and turn on the garage light.Patrick won’t be here this time.And Lauren’s with me.

“Can I help go through boxes or anything?”she asks.

“If you don’t mind,” I say with a laugh.“Do you see any labeledhigh school?”

We have to heave a few to the side.Thankfully, Dmitri’s Mustang isn’t in here, or we wouldn’t have any room to work with.

I feel bad for Lauren doing all this manual labor.“I know, I know, I have too many books.”

“No such thing.”Lauren pulls a stack of boxes to one side.“I found it.”

“Amazing!Thank you.”I yank open the top and pull out books, searching for the one I want.

As I flip through, a sage-green notebook catches my eye.

My high-school diary.One of them, anyway.I was terrible about keeping up with a diary, filling maybe a third of a journal before abandoning it and starting over, months later, with a new one.I wonder what this one chronicled.I flip open the cover to reveal my name, with that little heart I used to add to the end of the H.I used to be such a romantic nerd.

I expect the first page to be something about my crush on Dmitri.

Instead of girlish fantasies about my future as Mrs.Dmitri Montrose, I find pure vitriol about my stepdad.

Fuck stupid fucking Peter in the fucking face.And Mom too.I’mnevergetting married.Every time I ask Mom why she lets Peter talk to us like this, she goes on about how she loves him, he’s her man, she married him for better or worse.She says I’ll understand when I’m married to the man of my dreams.

That’s never going to happen.I’d rather die than marry some asshole like Peter who thinks he can tell me what to do.

Love is bullshit.

I slam the journal shut.The words continue to swim before my eyes.I can hear my stepdad’s voice like he’s standing right in front of me, spit flying from his mouth.“Fucking whore.If you get raped, you’re asking for it.”

And my mom standing nearby, eyes lowered, letting him say those things.

Because she loved him.Because she chose him, she married him, and a good marriage is for better or worse.

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