Page 31 of The Mood Board

“How did you know what was going on?” I asked, opening the fridge to look for the cream cheese.

“Tom called me early this morning to fill me in,” Janelle replied.

I guess he did have to tell her, didn’t he? She was part of the executive team. And everyone would know by now, anyway, because Liam’s arrest had to have been on the morning news, broadcast across Sacramento and probably the whole Bay Area—who knew? It was a miracle we didn’t have reporters banging down the door and camping outside.

Yet, anyway.

Tom had warned me that was probably still to come.

“The pans are in here—” I said, opening the cabinet.

“Why don’t you go sit down, okay?” Janelle cut me off. “You need to rest. It’s a kitchen—I can root around and figure things out.”

Something in me screamed not to let Janelle loose in our kitchen alone, but again, she had been nothing but pleasant to me. I had no reason to distrust her.

“Okay, yeah. Sure.” I waved vaguely toward the living room. “I’ll be in there if you need anything.”

“Just go relax.” She made a shooing motion. “You need rest so you can support Liam. He’s going to need it.”

I walked away, the last part of her sentence ringing in my head. It was an odd thing to say. But then again, maybe not so odd. We all knew what the future might hold, and it was grim.

Turning on the TV as I sank back onto the couch, I tried to ignore the fact that Liam had been sitting with me here not even a full twenty-four hours ago. And now Janelle was making me breakfast while he was in jail, awaiting his lawyer and arraignment. How had I traded the redhead for my fiancé? She still made the hackles on the back of my neck rise, and I had no idea why.

Was that letter and my insecurities around Janelle messing with my head that much? I had never had the kind of reaction to somebody as I had with her. Sure, I’d disliked people before, but never to this extent. It was a physical and mental reaction—I could barely go near her, and it was difficult to drag my face into a smile and even harder to pretend nothing at all was wrong.

I couldn’t understand it—what was wrong with me? Was I so insecure about myself and my relationship that I turned almost primal when she was around? No one else seemed to have that reaction—even Bianca had been raving about her the other day.

My assistant Kristen was the only one who wasn’t sure about her, but I feared that was because she was the only one I could vent to. She hadn’t even met Janelle, but she was fiercely loyal to me. Hearing my tirades, she had declared the woman suspicious, and it would take moving heaven and earth to get her to change her mind.

Well, if one more person in the world didn’t like Janelle, whether they had met her or not, I wouldn’t cry about it.

But I would have to figure out what I could do to change my mindset. She would be in my life, and Liam’s, for the foreseeable future. She was good for the company, and I couldn’t let my insecurities get in the way. I just didn’t know what that thing was that would change my view of Janelle or my reaction.

Well, a bagel from my favorite bakery was a good start, at least.

I tried to focus on whatever was happening on TV, one of those chatty morning shows with hosts who had to drink way too much caffeine in the morning. But before long, my eyes were closing no matter how valiantly I tried to keep them open.

The next thing I knew, my eyes flew open thanks to a spike in my anxiety. For a moment, I had to figure out where I was and how I had gotten there—I had fallen asleep on the couch without meaning to.

How long had I been asleep? It couldn’t have been long—my anxiety about the situation wouldn’t let me sleep for large amounts of time, apparently.

The morning show was still on TV, the same bubbly hosts still talking. A tray of food sat on the coffee table in front of me, a pile of fluffy eggs beside cut strawberries and my bagel, toasted and covered with cream cheese. The presentation was, of course, perfect, and my stomach started rumbling.

I reached for the fork, ready to shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth when I paused.

Where was Janelle?

I listened, expecting to hear her moving around in the kitchen, maybe cleaning up. But I heard nothing. Getting up to check only confirmed it—she wasn’t there. Had she left? Made breakfast and slipped out while I was sleeping? But her car was still sitting in front of the house.

Something in me tightened, something that had been a feeling becoming more solid as I slipped quietly through the house, avoiding the floorboards I knew were squeaky. Quiet noise from Liam’s office told me exactly where Janelle was, and I crept forward, my heartbeat increasing, my anxiety spiking again.

When I looked through the door, she was there, rifling through his desk. I wondered what she thought she would find—the police and FBI had probably taken anything important.

“What are you doing in here?”

Janelle jumped at my question and spun around, hand on her heart.

“Bailey, you scared the hell out of me,” she breathed, sagging back against Liam’s desk.