OCTOBER

Going to a funeral.

Oct 12, 2016

Weight: 116 pounds

Ate: strawberries.

Drank: a bottle of wine

Sex: absolutely.

Dear Diary,

Last night I slept in Peter’s bed. After our wild, throw the sheets in the wash because we steamed up the bed night, he rolled over.

My body still hums. He knows exactly how to make me want more and more. 

My therapist last week told me to be more vocal about what I wanted and to not think sex was love, but she has to be wrong.

I woke up too early, took a fast shower, and left his house, leaving a note in the kitchen for Caro that the sheets needed to be cleaned.

I hope she doesn’t mind but he was sleeping and I need to get to work.

If I make it big in Hollywood, I’ll ask Caro to come help me.

As I left, I took a breathe of the still hot but now breathable as the sun wasn’t quite out yet day.

This afternoon, I’d be at Mitch’s wake.

Tomorrow, I needed to ensure I wasn’t on schedule for my telenovela. I also need to call my agent.

There has to be something better for me.

Acting out my scenes in the morning was cathartic. Tears flowed easily as I thought about my life and how hollow my heart felt.

Once I finished, I had hair and makeup fix me up and rushed out.

The dress in the trunk had been perfect. It was made for my show when I had to go to a funeral. Tomorrow I needed couture as the funeral would be live on TV. As I pulled into Peter’s driveway, I called my manager who’d pick up a dress for me tonight.

Now that it was settled, I strolled into Peter’s place, happy to be there for him.

I needed to tell him. He needed to understand.

As the door buzzed and let me inside, I saw Peter walking down the stairs in a suit and tie. His broad shoulders and dark hair made him sexy. But the custom suit hinted that he was a billionaire. He came over and kissed my cheek as he said, “Jennifer, you don’t have to come.”

I love him. Where else would I be? I linked my arm in his and said, “I absolutely do.”

He walked with me out the front door and toward a waiting limo as he said, “I texted John. He’s coming.”

As a teenage girl, I’d had a few classes with John and been best friends with Victoria who hadn’t lived to see today. I fixed Peter’s blue and black tie and held him close as she said, “You haven’t seen him in years.”

Peter waited for her to get in the limo and then scooted in beside me as he said, “I’m not sure he’ll want to talk to me.”

Right. The House of Morgan was ruled by their father Mitch Morgan. Now that he was dead, John would get some inheritance but Peter received the empire. My mother had told me to be with Peter since the day I met his sister Victoria in the playground. I glanced out the window as Peter closed his own door. Then I reached out and brushed my hand on his thigh as I said, “I get that.”

The driver took them off his massive estate lined with palm trees and onto the street as Peter said, “Over text, which isn’t the best way to judge, he didn’t sound happy to talk.”

I scooted closer and could smell the light cologne he wore that smelled like oak trees and made me think he was deliciously all mine as I said, “He’ll get over it. You’re his only family left.”

Peter shook his head and stared straight ahead of them as he said, “Doubtful. My father’s will is going to reveal the half-siblings. I’m sure I met some of them.”

Even if his father left twenty people billions, Peter still inherited more than most countries might ever have. He was the heir and he was mine.

No one was ever going to stop me or us. I refused to ever let that happen. I’ve come too far in life now to ever get knocked back down. One day soon I’d join the House of Morgan and the world would be mine, just as it should be.

The House of Morgan