Katrina wished Doodle were in the bedroom. “What do you want in exchange for your silence?”
“I would never demand anything.” Her father clucked his tongue. “If you’d like to give me a gift, I’d consider accepting, but this isn’t blackmail, love.”
Bull. Shit. She swallowed. “Your minute is up.”
“Why don’t you think about how much your privacy is worth to you?” her dad said in a rush. “And call me back tomorrow for negotiations. I’m in driving distance to Santa Barbara right now. Perhaps we can meet in that charming café?”
The café that had once been her refuge, that she wouldn’t be able to return to for a while, barring a better disguise than her baseball cap? This huge asshole.
“Don’t wait too long, though. You know how quickly people dig up dirt on the internet.”
She hung up without saying goodbye, his threat lingering in her ears.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. What would her friends do? Rhiannon would blow up his threat by exposing her face and name herself. Jia would do something similar, and leverage every contact she had in the influencer world for the biggest impact.
Katrina wasn’t Jia or Rhiannon, so she couldn’t handle it like they could. That was okay.
She inhaled and exhaled, until enough of her panic dissipated that she could think clearly.
She had to keep her privacy.
She had to neutralize the immediate threat of her father.
She had to try to address this media circus once and for all.
Okay. Katrina nodded. This was doable. Time to get to work.
She texted the group chat, blunt and to the point. My dad saw the story. He’s blackmailing me. I’m coming back home. Will keep you posted on when.
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