Girl Gone Viral (Modern Love #2)(90)

Dumbly, she accepted the watch. It was a Submariner. Pricey. “What on earth do I do with this?”

“I don’t know.” He bared his teeth. “I couldn’t let him leave feeling like he’d gotten away with everything. It’s not a four-million-dollar watch, but it’s an expensive one. Pawn it.”

An odd urge to laugh came over her. “I’ll give it to Mona. A thank you gift.” Her smile came from deep within her soul. Yes, it had cost her millions of dollars, but now it was done. Her dad wouldn’t come back. And if he did, she had leverage. He liked his reputation. He wouldn’t want it smeared.

She inhaled. Most important, she’d done this herself.

The shame that she’d harbored over Hardeep saving her slipped away. It had taken her years to get to this point. She would never have been able to do it in her twenties. It was truly okay for her to have gotten help when she hadn’t had these financial or emotional resources.

She smiled through her tears. “I did it, Jas.”

“You sure did it.”

The unusual inflection in his tone had her glancing up. “Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” He laughed, and it was a hard laugh she’d never really heard from him. “To quote you, what, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck were you thinking?”

She squinted up at him. “I don’t want to live my life waiting for the other shoe to drop any longer. I wanted him gone.”

Jas took a step back and placed his hands on his hips. “What if I hadn’t been here?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“You were here,” she said simply.

“What if he’d attacked you, and I couldn’t stop him?”

“Physical violence isn’t his style.” No, it had always been psychological and emotional abuse her dad had gone with. “In any case, you and Doodle could have handled anything.”

He raked his hands through his hair. “You should have told me. I’m your security.”

Oh dear. He was really upset. “Okay.” She held out her hand, which Doodle licked, then nuzzled. “You know what? You’re right. I should have told you.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.” She wasn’t only trying to placate him. Her common sense had been mildly blinded by her emotions and anticipation of this showdown.

She may have also been thinking of Jas more like her boyfriend and less like her security. Which wasn’t an excuse she particularly wanted to share with him. “I see your point. You’re my bodyguard, it’s your job to know about this stuff. Had it been anyone else, I would have given you a heads-up. I didn’t think that through, and I’m sorry.” She licked her lips. “I needed to do this, very badly, for myself, and I think my anger blinded me to the practical logistics of this meeting.”

Deep lines bracketed his mouth. “You can’t keep things from me.”

She paused. Something about that command scraped. A year ago or even a month ago, she might have stuffed her annoyance down, but she didn’t now. “I agree I should have shared this with you,” she said. “But you can’t tell me I can’t keep things from you when you regularly keep things from me.”

“Don’t turn this around on me.”

“Don’t . . . I’m not turning this around on you. I’m bringing up a legit issue. You know everything about me. Getting you to talk about yourself is like pulling teeth.” It wasn’t until she uttered the words and felt a boulder fall off her shoulders that she realized how much this had upset her. “I don’t even know what you like to eat for breakfast, damn it.”

“Breakfast again?” He shook his head. “I told you—”

“You told me you like waffles because I like making them, that doesn’t mean you like them for the sake of liking them!” She tried to control her rising voice. This wasn’t about breakfast, or rather, not just about breakfast.

“I don’t understand this. It is my job to know you.”

A client. “Am I a job or am I something else?”

That stymied him. “What?”

“I heard you telling your brother that I was your client. Is that all I am? Or have things changed?”

“When did I . . .” His mouth fell open. “Hold up. Hold up. You speak Punjabi?”

She waved that away. “Enough of it.”

“Wait—”

“What am I?”

Jas raked his hands through his hair. “You’re not only my job.”

“Then you gotta talk. You can’t shove everything down. I’m so worried you’re so focused on meeting my needs you’ll never tell me your own.” Her knuckles had turned white, her fists were clenched so tight. “It’s a pattern. It’s so hard for you to tell anyone what you need. Your family, your friends. That’s important, to have that support system. It’s important, for you to have that support.”

“Katrina—” His phone rang, and he cursed and yanked it out. His face grew pale as he read the text.

Katrina sat forward. “What is it?”

“My grandfather’s sick.”

Her hand fluttered to her throat. That robust, energetic man? “Oh no. What’s wrong?”