by Alisha Rai
Jia squinted. “I can barely make it out. Besides, lots of people have the initials KKA.”
Katrina King Arora. Her married name. Hardeep must have given Katrina the purse. The man had been unfailingly generous to everyone in his orbit, which had put Jas in a pickle. It was hard to be jealous of a good man.
“No one will identify her off it, but it’s confirmation for anyone who has their suspicions,” he said grimly. “The idiot who took these photos should be sued.” And Jas should be fired. What kind of a bodyguard was he? How had he not caught the woman at the next table taking creeper shots of her?
“Oh, hey. I can take secret photos so well a CIA agent couldn’t spot me. Don’t beat yourself up over that.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken that thought out loud. Jia’s condolences were nice, but he didn’t want to be consoled. He handed Jia back her phone. Not now. He’d feel like a failure later. “Where is Katrina now?”
“In her office.” Jia worried her fingers together. “I stuck close to home today and checked in on her, and she’s been glued to her computer. I’ve been monitoring too. The story’s gaining steam, it’s starting to get picked up by mainstream news outlets.”
Which meant the threat to Katrina’s anonymity was growing. He gave Jia a short nod and stepped around her to head to the front doors of the main house. “I’ll take care of this.”
“It’ll be okay, right?”
“Yes.” He’d make sure it was okay.
Jia trailed him all the way to Katrina’s office. Jas paused. “Give us a moment alone, please.”
She bit her lip and nodded. He knocked once on the heavy wooden door of Katrina’s office, and waited impatiently for her faint “Yes?”
The light from the overhead halogens lit up Katrina’s shoulder-length light brown hair. She didn’t glance up from her computer screen when he walked in, which worried him even more. Katrina was given to dreaminess, but she was hypervigilant if she was completely alone. His heart ached every time she jumped at a noise.
He stopped in front of the desk. He tried to put himself in the shoes of someone who may not have seen her for years. He remembered when her hair had been darker and longer. A carefully screened stylist came to the house every few months and touched up her highlights—balayage, Katrina had once told him, was the correct term—and trimmed her hair. Her round face was fuller now, her body different. Still beautiful, though. She’d been beautiful then, she was beautiful now, and she’d be beautiful sixty years from now.
Now is not the time for waxing poetic.
“Jia told you,” she said, forestalling his greeting. Her voice was flat, which ratcheted his worry up more. He hadn’t heard her sound like this in a long time. Generally speaking, her voice was as warm and golden as her skin, bubbling underneath, like she was barely suppressing laughter.
He linked his hands together in front of him, because he wanted to grab her. “It’s a security breach. You should have told me.”
The rare rebuke did catch her attention. She blinked up at him. Her robe gaped at the neck, revealing her collarbones.
He came around the desk and glanced at the computer screen, which was open to the tweets he’d skimmed on Jia’s phone. The numbers on the faves and retweets were flipping every second. God, had she been watching this counter all day? He infused calm into his voice. “It will be fine. These things blow over. What’s viral today will be a forgotten meme by tomorrow.”
“Oh God,” she whispered. “I’m a meme too?”
“No,” he said instantly, though she could very well be a meme. He understood computers, but memes still baffled him. “Of course not. It’s a figure of speech.”
She rubbed her temples. “Who would do something like this? This is such a . . . gross invasion of privacy.”
What was privacy now, anyway, in a world where everyone carried a recording device? “She probably assumed it was harmless.”
Katrina swallowed. “Maybe for her.” She straightened and clicked on another window to bring up the spy’s Twitter page. BeccaTheNose was her handle. “Look. Reporting gigs, endorsement offers, a book deal. She got hundreds of thousands of followers today alone. Off of me as content.”
Katrina’s bitterness actually eased Jas. Anger was better than fear or panic.
“It’s bullshit,” he agreed.
“She’s going to benefit from this and I’m . . .”
“Nothing will happen to you, because no one will know it’s you.”
Her breathing deepened. He knew the sound of all of Katrina’s breaths now, and these were long and deliberate, the kind of breaths she took when anxiety was creeping in.
A few weeks after he’d met Katrina, he’d witnessed one of her panic attacks. He’d spent enough time around soldiers with PTSD to have an idea of what was happening. Her attacks didn’t always have a clear trigger, but getting twisted up with anxiety didn’t help.
“What if someone figures it out? How long will it take to track me to this house?” She picked at her cuticles.
“A long time,” he said firmly. He couldn’t touch her, but he eased closer. “Katrina King didn’t buy this house. They’d have to unravel shell company after shell company. Or bribe someone who knows, and that’s a handful of extremely trustworthy people who can’t be bribed.” Katrina’s investment fund consisted of three employees, all vetted and there for the long haul. A couple of select people at Crush knew who she was. Him. Her roommates and their families. Samson. That was it.
After the incident that had scarred her, Katrina had made it plain she wanted nothing more than to disappear. Jas had done his best to give her what she needed. If she wanted to disappear, she’d disappear. If she wanted to stay in her house forever, he’d facilitate that. If she wanted to venture out, he’d have her back there too. She was a grown, smart woman. She knew what was best for her.
She fiddled with her collar. “It used to be I was scared of having a panic attack in public. The fear, the embarrassment. What if I couldn’t get away, or if people saw me, or someone hurt me when I was incapacitated?”
She didn’t seem to need him to respond, so he didn’t. He didn’t know the full history of Katrina’s panic disorder. She didn’t talk much about her life with her father, but he imagined it hadn’t been pleasant.
“Then that man kidnapped me. And I had something else to fear.”
His heart clenched, hard. He often forgot about the scar that ran down Katrina’s cheek. It was simply a part of her now, the same as her hair or legs. But right now it seemed like it was pronounced and white, more obvious than ever.
Her voice dropped so low, he had to lean forward to hear. “If I’m . . . nobody, then no one will want to hurt me, no one can capitalize off me, no one can use me, do you understand? I have to stay nobody.”
Oh, he understood. He understood perfectly what it was like to want to go someplace where no one knew who you were, to want to run from attention and the spotlight.
He didn’t fully realize what he was doing until her soft, smooth hand was in his. A part of him was aghast at the liberty he’d taken.
Another part of him was dying at the warmth that simple touch filled him with.
He tightened his grip when she looked up at him, her eyes pools of worry and fear. She wasn’t a small woman, but she felt fragile and delicate, and if he hadn’t already felt protective of her . . . well, it was all over now. “When you were kidnapped, I wasn’t with you.” She’d been shopping on crowded Oxford Street in London. He’d been with Hardeep when he’d gotten the panicked call from her security detail. “I’m with you now. I promise you. Anyone who wants to hurt you will have to get through me first.”
Chapter Six
KATRINA LOOKED DOWN at Jas’s hand. He’d never touched her before. Not like this, not bare palm to bare palm, for no other purpose but to touch her.
The kicker? She couldn’t even properly enjoy it!
Thanks a fucking lot, Becca.
Katrina
had watched with an ever-growing knot in her belly as the metrics for that god-awful Twitter thread climbed ever higher. She’d watched as the woman who had photographed her and narrated a made-up encounter batted her lashes at her new followers and watched hashtags be born and trend in real time: #CafeBae and #CuteCafeGirl.
They weren’t even good hashtags.
“Katrina?” Jas squeezed her fingers, grounding her better than any fidget stone.
She gathered herself and put on the hat that allowed her to eyeball start-ups and pick apart any BS to find their core. “To summarize, no one will be able to identify me from these photos. Even if they do, it would be almost impossible to track me to this house. Even if that somehow happens, there’s an even smaller chance there’s a bogeyman lurking out there to hurt me.” Her kidnapper had been arrested during the ransom handoff when she’d been recovered. He’d been wanted for a laundry list of crimes, and would be in prison for a long, long time. Her father was the only other person who might hold a grudge against her, and he’d been quiet since Hardeep had paid him off. Katrina kept tabs on him, and had checked in today to make sure he was still tucked away in Vancouver.
Jas’s beautiful eyebrows came together. “Right.”
She lifted her shoulder. So logical. So rational. “Right. Thank you.”
A knock came at the door, and Jas slipped his hand away from hers. Katrina had to swallow twice at the loss before she could speak. “Come in.”
Jia poked her head around the door, her forehead creased with worry. A rush of affection coursed through Katrina. While she’d been consumed by this viral phenomenon, Katrina had neglected everything else, including work and food. At some point, a messy sandwich had appeared at her elbow, and her water bottle had kept getting refilled. She had some vague recollection of Jia trying to distract her with chatty conversation. “Come in, Jia.”
“How’s everything going?” Jia asked.
“It’s . . . fine.” She shoved back from the desk. She had to . . . do something. What could she do?
Pain ran through her legs when she got up, and she wondered how long she’d been sitting in the same position. At the very least, she could move. Make something. “Gosh, look at the time. Nearly ten. Are either of you hungry? Did you eat dinner?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
Jas shook his head. “Katrina . . .”
“Let me put something together.”
“That’s not necessary.”
It was necessary. Katrina placed her hand in her pocket, but there was no rock, because she hadn’t gotten dressed today either. No shower, no perusal of her wardrobe to decide what she felt like. No rock. Nothing to hold on to.
“I’m hungry.” Katrina scooted past Jas. Her head was a jumble of thoughts and feelings, her stomach in turmoil.
Katrina rubbed her arms as she power walked through the hallway to the kitchen, Jia and Jasvinder trailing behind her, murmuring to each other.
She opened the fridge and stared inside. Oh shoot. She’d forgotten to place a grocery order. What on earth would she make?
She swiped the back of her hand over her cheeks, though there was no wetness there. She was anxious, but that numbness from the morning continued to protect her. “How do you feel about sandwiches?”
Without waiting for an answer, she gathered up sandwich fixings and brought the goods to the counter.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a movement outside the window and jumped and whirled.
“What’s wrong?” Jas crossed to the window and peered outside.
She relaxed once she realized it was a tree branch knocking against the glass. “Nothing. Sorry.”
It was awfully dark outside. And light inside. She placed her knife on the counter, then walked briskly over to the window and snapped the blinds shut. She glanced behind her with a frown. There was the sliding glass door, and she’d never put blinds over it, since it faced the backyard. Why had she bought a place with so much glass?
She’d hang a blanket there tonight. Tomorrow she’d rig up proper curtains.
By tomorrow her name might be all over the internet.
She spun around. “Jas, I yelled at Richard,” she blurted out.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” She stalked back to the counter. “He startled me while he was doing his rounds, but that’s no excuse for my short temper. Is he here? I’d like to apologize. Does he have any dietary restrictions? I’ll make him a sandwich too.”
“He’s already left. You can talk to him when he’s back on shift.”
“Do you have his number? I can call him. It’s not kind to be so short-tempered. I wouldn’t want him to worry about it.”
“He won’t. Trust me, he’s fine.”
She applied mayo to a slice of bread like her life depended on it. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Why don’t you let me make the sandwiches?” Jia asked. “It’s basically the one meal I can handle.”
She gave Jia a halfhearted smile. “No, it’s fine. Jas, is grilled cheese okay?”
“I— Fine.”
“I make it with mayo, you know. That’s the secret.” She pulled out a pan and placed it on the stove. “The mayo has a high fat content and crisps the bread. It works better than butter.”
A small meow distracted her and she glanced at her feet, startled. “Zeus.” She pressed her fingers against her lips. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about you today.” She bent over and petted the cat. “How could I do that?”
“She’s a cat,” Jia said. “She’s probably thrilled you forgot her for a day.”
She smoothed her hand along her kitten’s back. “What a terrible cat stereotype. Zeus loves me.” Ah, there it was. A thawing of the numbness, the prickle of tears behind her eyes.
I love you, Katrina. This is all for your own good.
Katrina straightened. Her breath was coming faster, the floor wavering in her vision, her head aching.
This is your kitchen. You are safe.
“I need some air,” she managed, and the next thing she knew, she was outside, damp grass under her butt, sucking in great gulps of precious oxygen.
Jas crouched in front of her, his no-nonsense voice cutting through her panic. “Name five things.”
She closed her eyes, and opened them again. This was one of her handiest coping mechanisms. Five things she could see or hear or touch. “The grass.” It was cold.
“What else?”
“The moon. The flowers.” Jas took care of her garden, he had since they’d moved in. It was a work of art, filled with dark greenery and bright flowers, a colorful paradise. She’d told him he didn’t need to do that, it wasn’t in his job description, but he hadn’t listened. So she’d quietly increased his retirement plan contribution.
“Two more.”
She swallowed, tasting the ash of fear, but her heartbeat was returning to normal. She came to her knees. “Smoke. Trees.”
“Good.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, and she matched his breathing without thinking.
Jia knelt next to her. “Here, drink this.”
Katrina accepted the water. “The stove—”
“You never turned it on.” Jia sat cross-legged. A flash of embarrassment ran through Katrina at Jia witnessing this, but she swallowed it. Though she wasn’t prepared to share her issues with everyone, when Jia had come to live with her Katrina had told her what to expect. This had, frankly, been nothing.
She shuddered, though the cool air was nice. She took a sip of the water, letting it wet her parched throat.
Jia leaned against her side, giving her comfort. “Do you want to go back inside?”
Katrina looked at the house. It had been her haven for so long, the place where she’d felt safe and sound.
This wasn’t about the house. This was about her identity. She’d had no idea how much safety she’d derived in staying anonymous. “I’ll stay out here for a moment, thanks.”
Jas also joined the
m on the ground. He was dressed in crisp dark jeans and a gray Henley, the lines of his beard extra sharp. Had he gone somewhere today? She vaguely recalled Gerald delivering a message in the afternoon that Jas would be absent until later in the evening, but she’d been too preoccupied to pay attention, even to news about Jas.
He linked his arms around his knees like he had all the time in the world. “What do you want, Katrina?”
Wow, what a question. Where to start?
I want to not have been under my father’s thumb until I was twenty-four.
I want him to have not used my condition against me.
I want to not have been kidnapped all those years ago.
She bit back the bitter answers and answered him honestly. “I want to run away.”
Jas nodded. “Where can you go where you will feel safe?”
The words didn’t have a single ounce of mockery in them. It was a simple, soft query.
Still, she inhaled. Where could she go? This was the only property she owned, the only one she’d bothered to buy. Hardeep had left her with substantial cash, but he’d deeded all his other properties to his extended family and charity and she hadn’t quibbled with that. He’d been more than generous to a girl he’d married out of kindness.
Ten places.
Her goal for a while now. She thought of the ten places she felt comfortable going to, all eating or working establishments in the city. She couldn’t very well go sleep at the pho place. A hotel would mean strangers all around her, and that wouldn’t help.
She accessed her mental fear ladder, her hierarchy of things that scared her. Getting on a plane? Ugh. No, that was outside of her abilities.
She looked to the east, where her house hid her driveway. She could get in her car, though.
“What are you thinking?”
