Page 28 of The Mood Board

“I do?” I pushed to my feet, a surge of hope echoing through me.

Was it my lawyer, finally? Or maybe it was Bailey.

She had been the only one I had wanted sitting in that uncomfortable chair as the detective questioned me, and all I had wanted while trying and failing miserably through the endlessly long rest of the night to get some sleep on the thin cot that had me feeling every ache and pain. I had tried to imagine her next to me, her skin warm, her breathing light, her hair soft, her presence calming.

Imagining her like that had allowed me to nod off a few times, and seeing her now would fix everything.

But I knew instantly it wasn’t her when the sound of heels announced the new arrival—they weren’t Bailey’s footsteps, and my lawyer—a man—didn’t wear heels. More than that, Bailey would have been rushing to meet me. These footsteps were unhurried, deliberate.

The officer nodded to the woman just as she reached the door, his eyes flicking over her form before returning to her face—it was Janelle, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and, of course, heels.

“You have ten minutes,” the officer said and walked away.

“Janelle, what are you doing here?” I asked. There was no way Bailey would have sent her, not with the conversation the police had interrupted. She would have come herself, anyway, and so would Tom.

“I told them I was your lawyer’s assistant,” she replied, a conspiratorial smirk twisting one corner of her mouth up. “That was the only way I could get them to let me in to see you.”

“You told them you were my lawyer’s legal assistant?” I knew it was a stupid question, but I was still a little thrown off to see her.

“Yes.” Her mouth thinned at the word, and I caught her watching me, her green eyes narrowed slightly with... with what? Was it pity or repulsion? I couldn’t tell. I knew I looked rough, with stubble, my hair a mess, unwashed and rumpled, bags under my eyes from stress and lack of sleep. It was still an odd reaction when she knew I had spent the night in jail.

Did she believe I was guilty? It wasn’t like she knew me, and she’d only been with the company for a few weeks. It was entirely possible she thought I had done something illegal, and that’s what the look had been about.

“Look, I know this looks bad, but I swear I didn’t do anything. Even if you don’t believe me, ask the lawyers or the accountants. They’ve been going over everything and can’t find anything wrong. But if you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make sure Jordan gives you the severance you deserve—”

“I’m not here because I think you’re guilty.” The look had left Janelle’s eyes, replaced instead by sympathy. “I know you’re innocent. I came to see how you were holding up.”

“You did?” I felt my brow crease in confusion. Why would my company’s new hire come to jail to see me and lie to get in?

I watched Janelle’s red-painted lips sink into a worried frown. “Of course. This must be difficult for you.”

It felt good to hear the words, and my shoulders relaxed slightly. All I had gotten since I’d arrived was cold indifference at best, open hostility at worst. Yes, this was probably one of the worst nights of my life.

“You’re right,” I sighed, allowing my head to hang, my hair dropping into my eyes. “It’s awful, and I still don’t know why I’m here. I have no idea what they found, but it can’t be anything because there’s nothing to find.”

I just wanted to go home. I wanted out of this hellhole and nightmare to go home and hold Bailey.

“Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help,” Janelle offered.

“I don’t think—”

“Come on, Liam. I’ve been at this game for a long time.” Janelle cut me off, her mouth quirked into a sideways half-frown. “I’ve seen more shit than you know and steered businesses and CEOs through worse.”

“I’m not sure what would be worse than this,” I muttered, my gaze sliding around the cold, empty, concrete cell.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Janelle replied, something glittering in her eyes making me wonder what had been worse. And wondering, too, if I really wanted to know.

The answer was probably not.

Or maybe it would make me feel better knowing I wasn’t the only one going through this.

“So are you going to tell me?” she asked, eyebrows rising with the question.

Should I? The company’s lawyers had warned against telling anyone outside of our small circle of people—so far, the only ones who knew anything about what was going on beyond Bailey and myself, the lawyers, and the accountants were Tom and Jordan, of course.

Then again, Janelle was part of the executive team. More than that, she was the one who had been through situations like this and steered businesses through the worst of it before. She knew about the market, about the global market, and how to represent the company.

If anyone was going to know, it had to be Janelle.