Girl Gone Viral (Modern Love #2)(84)

Rhiannon’s response came right away. I didn’t listen to you, and I’m already on my way back. Be there by early am, pacific time. Lakshmi’s staying behind.

Jia replied a second later. We’ll think of something.

I’ll call you later. I have some ideas. Katrina placed the phone carefully on the table and rose to her feet, grabbing the hoodie Rhiannon had sent with her.

She paused as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She did look different from the sad-eyed woman her father had known, the one who had graced magazine covers and lounged on beaches. She ran her hands over her tummy. It was full now, protruding, the curve of it pronounced. Her thighs were dimpled. Her arms jiggled. She had changed, on the inside as well as the outside.

She’d never been fragile. She’d believed in someone who was supposed to protect her, and that belief had gone sideways. That wasn’t her fault.

It’s not your fault.

She repeated the words as she made her way downstairs, and found Jas in the kitchen. He looked up and smiled, his teeth white. “Hey, look at what Doodle can do. Doodle, sit.”

The dog plunked her butt on the tile, her tail wiggling.

“Good girl,” Jas crooned, and gave her a treat. She snapped it up and gobbled it down. “Isn’t she brilliant?”

Her smile was forced. “Uh-huh.” Even her fake smile faded as she caught sight of the food lined up on the counter.

He followed her gaze. “We have so many leftovers in the fridge, I figured we could clear them out. How do you feel about a smorgasbord— Katrina?”

The nausea caught her unexpectedly and she shook her head, darting from the room and out the front door. She clutched the railing and took in deep breaths.

A big hand came to rest on her lower back and Doodle pressed against her leg and whined, a high-pitched and plaintive sound for such a giant dog. “Are you sick?” Jas asked quietly. “What happened?”

The words spilled out of her, words she’d never confessed to anyone. “When I was young, my dad, he’d put a bunch of dishes on the counter for breakfast. If I completed everything I was supposed to—smiling, running, singing—I could choose one thing to eat. If I didn’t perform well, he’d take away one plate as punishment for each infraction.”

She expected him to be upset, but his “Holy shit” was violent, as was the embrace he pulled her into. “Katrina.” His chest rumbled under her ear. “I’m so sorry. That’s utterly abusive.”

She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth. His scent was better than any other kind of air. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. Let me go clean up the food. Or I’ll make you something. You’re always cooking, I wanted to give you a break—”

“I like cooking.” She pulled away. “Rhiannon’s on her way home.”

He blinked at the seeming change of subject. “Oh. Good.”

“I would like to go home, as well.”

“Why?”

“Because my dad is blackmailing me, and I realized I’d like to be around all the people I care for more than I’d like to run away.”

“Your dad is what?”

“It’s okay.” She patted his chest. The weak sunlight lit the porch, turning it into a golden cage. No, not a cage. She was here voluntarily, and she’d go home voluntarily.

She didn’t have a sword, but she could at least have her rage. The rage, and her own intellect. She smiled through her anger. “I think I have an idea on how to head this off.”

“What’s the idea?”

“I’m going to write a statement.”

He waited, then frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yes. I’ll beg for people to leave me alone. Appeal to everyone’s sense of goodness.”

Jas steepled his fingers under his nose and looked down at her from his greater height. “Your plan is to appeal to the goodness of . . . the internet.”

She managed a wobbly smile. Cynics, she was surrounded by them. She wasn’t a cynic, though. She couldn’t afford to be. She had to believe there was good in the world, and so she’d appeal to that good first. “Yes. It’s one thing for Jia to do a video telling the world that this isn’t a fun love story, it’s a damaging privacy infringement. It’ll make more impact coming from CuteCafeGirl.”

“Okay. Kind of see your reasoning. I don’t think a statement could hurt you. How will this get your dad off your back though?”

“If people stop caring about who I am, there’s no story. If there’s no story, there’s nothing for my dad to blackmail me with.”

He did not look convinced. “I don’t know. That sounds like a stretch.”

I’ll also crush him for good measure.

That part, she wouldn’t share with Jas, not yet.

The rage flared again. The crushing? No white knight needed this time. That was going to be all her. “It’ll work.”

NOT FOR THE first time, Jas wondered if that woman with the camera had known, when she’d taken those photos and spun an elaborate story, that she’d be revealing Katrina’s underbelly to the world. Had it even occurred to her that that would be a possibility? Or had she blithely only been concerned with entertaining her followers with a romance casting real people?