Girl Gone Viral

by Alisha Rai

  “Hey,” Samson placed his hand on Jas’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Jas. There are things I have trouble thinking about, too.”

  That, Jas believed. Samson’s parents’ and uncle’s tragic deaths were public knowledge.

  “You can talk about the stuff you feel comfortable talking about, and not about the things you don’t. That’s how I operate with my friends, okay?”

  Friends. Another shot of that good feeling, like a drug coursing through his veins.

  Tell him about Katrina, too.

  Haha, nope. Jas wasn’t going to magically be able to spill everything. Some things, though, might be okay. “I am . . . concerned about the thought of this pardon.” Concerned was an understatement. “My friend who called me about this is pretty well-connected, and she’s put in calls to a couple of people higher up to let her know which way the wind is blowing.”

  Samson’s face turned grave. “You just have to wait, huh?”

  Wait for the other shoe to drop. Jas nodded.

  “In that case, you should try to get your mind off it. You know, Rhi’s leaving for her trip to India today, so I was thinking of going out with some of my football buddies tonight. You’d like them. You know Dean and Harris Miller? I played with them on the Brewers. Dean’s retired, Harris is retiring soon. Come with us.”

  Did he know the Miller cousins? Uh, yeah.

  You are not a child, to be impressed by professional football players. Only he kind of was, damn it. He didn’t really work conventional hours, but he was technically off today. There was no reason not to go. “I know them.”

  “Harris can be a bit of a smart-ass, and Dean will probably tell you all about his baby’s poops, but they’re good guys.”

  Jas blinked. “Did you say—”

  “Poops, yeah.” Samson waved his hand. “I don’t get it, either, but I guess different colors and consistencies of poops all mean different things. I think it’s a parent thing?”

  “To be obsessed with poop?” That didn’t sound right.

  Samson shrugged. “I try to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, he’s a great dad.”

  “You’re going out in L.A.?”

  Samson’s smile widened. “I know people here hate to drive, but yeah. It’s not so far, I promise.”

  It wasn’t far. Rhiannon regularly commuted to Los Angeles from here when she stayed in Santa Barbara on long weekends.

  “I’m not really one for bars or clubs.” Jas shied away from places that had too much alcohol and too much testosterone and too much music. Loud noises and raised voices made his head throb and made sleep difficult for days after.

  “Clubs? Oh no.” Samson laughed and took a big gulp of his coffee. “I’m too tired for a wild Friday night like that, and Dean’s parenting a toddler. No, Dean wants to go out to a new Mexican vegan place, and then maybe our regular pub for a nightcap. It’s usually filled with older players. Nothing too rough. It’ll get your mind off things. You can crash at my place, or drive back here after, whatever works for you.”

  Jas drummed his fingers on his thigh. What would he do tonight, if he didn’t get away from the house? Sit here and fret over McGuire?

  Or over Katrina checking out that strutting asshole yesterday?

  He agreed before he could change his mind. “Okay. I’ll drive separately.” He’d go down early to avoid rush-hour traffic and poke around the city. He made a mental note to beef up security here. Out of an abundance of caution, there was always a guard posted at the gate of the property, but he posted two when he left the premises, even for a few hours. One of his old Army buddies had started a security company as a second career. Lorne had also testified against McGuire, and had been the one to call Jas about the possible pardon. Jas trusted her to hire good people.

  “No problem.” Samson rose and stretched. “I’m going to go shower and then head down. Rhiannon’s probably just waking up, and I want to say goodbye before she leaves for her trip.”

  “See you tonight.” Jas showed Samson out, then loitered on the porch for a moment and checked his watch. Katrina was a creature of habit, so he knew at this exact second she was finishing reading her newspaper, catching up on the events of the world. She might be an angel investor by trade, but she was a collector of knowledge by nature. He’d never seen anyone inhale and synthesize information the way she did, on every topic imaginable, not just the ones related to the companies she invested in.

  She’d carefully fold each piece of the paper when she was done and then make her way to the kitchen to cook breakfast. She cooked for him and Gerald, the housekeeper, as well as herself and her roommates. She’d always cooked for staff, even when she’d been married to Hardeep, and commanded a much larger number of employees. He’d never been a breakfast-eater, but he’d become one, which was no surprise. He clung to the crumbs of her affection, hoarding them carefully. He would eat brussels sprouts if she put them in front of him, and that was really saying something, given that they were tiny alien brains.

  He’d been just shy of thirty when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’d been rushing to the courthouse for a surprise wedding with his ultra-rich boss, both of them wearing what was clearly the previous night’s evening wear.

  Jas had been suspicious, as he was of all new people, and he’d only had an hour to run a background check on Katrina. Twenty-four, half–Thai American and half-white, no criminal record, no bankruptcies, financially sound, lived with her father who also happened to be her manager. No red flags.

  The bride had worn green for the wedding, a rumpled dress made of emerald silk. Her hair had been loose, thick brown waves cascading over her gleaming shoulders. Her gaze had been downcast for much of the ceremony, her responses to the justice quiet but sure. When Hardeep had kissed her, it had been a quick, dry peck on her upturned cheek.

  Jas had met her eyes only for a brief moment during the ceremony, when he’d signed as witness, and something about her stark vulnerability had cracked through his suspicion.

  He hadn’t fallen in love with her right then and there. His love had come later, as he trailed along behind her, protected her, discovered her quirks and quick wit. It was her small acts of kindness that had sucked him in, her clever intelligence and sweetness that had kept him hooked. She flowered open daily to receive and give affection and care to everyone in her orbit. She fascinated him. He had always dated sporadically, but his interest in other women had dwindled to zero over the past few years.

  He asked me to go on a date with him.

  Jas closed his eyes and counted to ten. You’re upset about this because you want to focus on something other than McGuire.

  Bullshit.

  You could tell her you love her.

  No, he absolutely could not. His pining for her was his own concern. As was his intense jealousy of Mr. ToothyGrin.

  He’d learned how to control his emotions at an early age, before he’d even entered the regimented world of the United States military. His grandfather wouldn’t have allowed anything else. Calm control was essential on a farm, where humans were often at the whim of animals, the weather, the land.

  He knew how to strangle his feelings down deep, so deep he barely thought about the blood-and-horror-soaked event that had ended his career, or the backlash that came after from people he’d respected and sworn vows to, or how difficult it had been to readjust to civilian life. So difficult Jas had taken a position as a bodyguard for a man his grandfather had disdained, crossed continents to be away from all the reminders of what his life was not.

  So he wasn’t about to go spilling his feelings all over Katrina. He shuddered. Imagine if she pitied him, or worse, was horrified. At the very least, their working relationship would never be the same. Then he’d be deprived of even the crumbs.

  His watch beeped, reminding him that breakfast would arrive soon. The world was often unreliable, but Katrina was not. Another thing he craved about her, that tight, perfectly predictable schedule. It was like a soothing balm to
the part of him that missed his regimented life.

  He went inside to get ready for the day. As he stood in the shower, letting the heat permeate his bad knee, he came to terms with the harsh truth.

  Katrina hadn’t shown interest in any romantic connection since Hardeep had died. He hadn’t believed that would last forever. He didn’t want it to last forever, if it would make her happier to seek someone out. He’d have to follow her and her prospective date around, watch them fall in love.

  What was the other option? Quitting?

  He scrubbed his face. Nope.

  Chapter Four

  KATRINA WAS IN an upbeat mood when she entered her kitchen, purring black-and-white cat in her arms. The sun streamed in through the huge east-facing windows, bouncing off the sparkling stainless steel appliances.

  Morning people had once annoyed her, until she’d become one. She woke around five A.M. now and got so much done before the rest of the household started to stir. There might be some variation in her schedule during the day, but she preferred her start and end to stay the same. Routine comforted her.

  She placed Zeus on the kitchen tile and gave her a good rub. The feline twined around her ankles as she filled her water bowl with clean, distilled water and served the food she made specially for her. “Spoiled,” she cooed at her love, and stroked the black spot on Zeus’s forehead.

  Once her baby was taken care of, Katrina grabbed her wireless headphones and placed them over her ears. “Sienna, play Prince’s Love Symbol,” she said aloud, and the black cylinder on the counter lit up red. Her hips swayed as the music poured through the headphones. She danced her way to the counter where her other baby sat. She opened the lid of the glass jar and inhaled the yeasty aroma that greeted her.

  Her mom had loved to cook. Katrina retained a couple of memories of key comfort dishes, like tom yum goong and mac and cheese . . . and sourdough bread. Using this exact starter.

  It had been the one thing she’d been able to take with her when she’d gone to live with her father, just a few ounces of it. It was a miracle in Katrina’s mind: all you needed was a small amount of the white stuff, and it would grow like magic once it was fed. It had been surprisingly easy to travel with over the years. Katrina added flour and water to the jar in the appropriate quantities, as she did every morning, and placed the starter back in its spot.

  It took no time at all to whip up enough waffles for Gerald and Jas. She arranged the heaping plates on a tray with butter and syrup and glanced at her watch. She pulled her headphones off one ear as Gerald silently appeared in the doorway. Her small crew knew how much she hated to be startled or sneaked up on, so they adhered to her strict schedule or stomped loudly when around her. Even Zeus had a bell around her neck.

  Her housekeeper was dressed casually, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, with his silver hair combed neatly over his bald spot. He wore a suit every day when Hardeep was alive, but he’d relaxed significantly since her late husband’s death, even going so far as to tell her what foods he preferred for breakfast.

  Her queries to Jas about the foods he loved had been met with shrugs and assurances that he liked everything she made. The fact that he always cleaned his plate was her only sign that he was telling the truth.

  “Good morning, madam,” Gerald intoned. His British accent was softened from years of living in the U.S. He kept his gaze pointedly on hers, which was standard for him. She wore a robe today in deference to the cooling temperature, but usually she was in short shorts and a tank. One of the small pleasures of pleasing only herself was that she could wear whatever she wanted in her own house. Almost ten years since she’d left life under her father’s thumb, and she was still savoring the taste of freedom.

  She liked clothes that revealed some skin, because she loved every inch of the body she’d finally been allowed to care for and nourish how she saw fit. She’d even come to love the faint scar on her face, though she’d received it traumatically. It was hers.

  “Good morning, Gerald.” She handed him the tray and he inclined his head.

  “Thank you.” A man of few words, he left with his and Jas’s breakfast.

  She went on to the next round of meals, cracking eggs, folding them into the batter, and warming the maple syrup. Her mood swung ever upward as the music lifted her and she created a meal for her friends. She found joy in cooking for people who were loudly appreciative of her efforts. Providing sustenance for others was her love language.

  Katrina pulled her headphones off when she heard the loud sound of footsteps. Rhiannon. She’d known her best friend and part-time roommate for going on a dozen years. The other woman got her in a way few people did.

  Except Jas. He got her real well.

  Okay. No more thinking about Jas for the rest of the morning, that’s the rule. It was his day off, so it was her brain’s day off from him, too. “Morning,” she called out to Rhiannon, when her friend entered the kitchen.

  Rhiannon yawned loudly. “Good morning.”

  “Is Samson joining us for breakfast?” She critically surveyed the amount of food she’d prepared and considered increasing it. Samson may not be a football player anymore, but he ate like one.

  “Nah, he left to go back to L.A. He’ll be scarce while I’m gone, he has some work to do with his foundation.” Rhiannon pulled her sweatshirt together and zipped it up.

  After so many years, Katrina was well versed in what Rhiannon’s clothes meant, though her ever-changing wardrobe of hoodies and jeans might look the same to anyone else. The blue hoodie was her power sweatshirt, but it was also one of her more loose ones. Her travel power sweatshirt. “Ready for your trip?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “I loved India when I was there.” She’d traveled quite a bit in her youth. It hadn’t always been enjoyable or anxiety-free, and she was in no hurry to hop on to a transatlantic flight anytime soon—or ever—but there had been a few trips she was glad she’d taken.

  Rhiannon went to the cupboard where the plates were stored. Katrina was aware she was biased, but she thought Rhiannon Hunter was surely one of the most beautiful women in the world, with her high cheekbones, glowing dark-brown skin, and big black eyes. She’d cut her hair recently, and the curls brushed her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. “I’m kinda nervous.”

  That was a big admission for Rhiannon, who prided herself on being tough. “There’s no need to be nervous. We are prepared for this.”

  Usually, Katrina didn’t concern herself with the day-to-day operations of the start-ups her fund invested in. Because of Rhiannon, she was more actively engaged with Crush, and had happily taken the lead on a lot of their tentative expansion into foreign markets. India had its own dating apps, but Crush’s arrival into the huge smartphone-armed population was an opportunity to expand their footprint significantly.

  Rhiannon made a face. “I’ve been working on this Matchmaker merger so much, I feel like you know more about the expansion than I do.”

  Katrina shook her head. “That’s because you’re used to being a hundred and forty percent prepared, so when you’re actually a hundred percent prepared, you feel underprepared.”

  “How dare you utter the truth first thing in the morning.”

  Katrina smiled and slid the last waffle out of the waffle iron. “There’s nothing about this company you don’t know. And honestly, I’m a phone call away.”

  Rhiannon set three places at the table. “And thank God for that.”

  Katrina smiled. She was grateful, too, that she’d reached out to Rhiannon with an investment offer four years ago, when she heard her friend had left her previous employment.

  Do you have any idea how much a start-up costs? Rhiannon had asked her.

  Do you have any idea how much my husband left me? she’d countered.

  Rhiannon had never asked for that number, but it had been a lot. Hardeep had been a jeweler for the stars, yes, and that had brought in a tidy sum, but he�
��d also invested in a certain then-obscure search engine in the nineties.

  Katrina had taken the multiple zeros she’d inherited and turned them into even more zeros.

  “You’ll be gone for less than two weeks. Meet with the team we assembled, lay the groundwork, and we’ll be rolling in the rupees shortly.” Katrina slid her friend a sideways glance. “I’m surprised Samson’s not coming with you.” Rhiannon had only ever been a part-time roommate at best, but she’d been gone a lot over the last few months. Rhiannon had her own apartment in L.A., but Katrina suspected that her friend had been spending most of her nights with Samson.

  “I asked him, but he’s got a fund-raiser he’s committed to, so it was a no-go.”

  “Gotcha.” Inside, her inner romantic pumped her fist at Rhiannon’s admission. Awwwww. As far as she knew, this was the first trip Rhiannon had invited her boyfriend along on.

  A loud yawn preceded Jia’s entrance into the room. The internet would be stunned to see Jia Ahmed in baggy cotton pajama pants and a sweater, her hair uncovered and in a simple braid, but the toned-down fashion and beauty influencer was still glamorous, the pep in her walk not diminished by the early hour.

  She had put on makeup, though it was only a brush of eyeliner and a slight tint of lip gloss. In fact, Katrina didn’t think she’d ever seen Jia without some makeup in the five months since she’d come to live with them.

  Katrina wasn’t quite sure how this living arrangement had come to be. Rhiannon had gone home back east for about twenty-four hours, and returned with the news that she’d invited a childhood friend’s baby sister to live with them.

  Katrina had been mildly anxious about whether the semi-famous Pakistani American influencer would like her. That fear was put to rest about five minutes after meeting Jia. The younger woman was goofy and lacked a filter, but she made up for her chattiness in the pure earnest warmth and sweetness she exuded.

  “I’m dying of hunger,” Jia announced.

  Katrina’s lips quivered. Jia very much liked to announce things. “How do you feel about waffles?”