Page 43 of The Mood Board

Chapter 16

Bailey

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IT TOOK ME AN HOURand a half to make the call. I picked up the phone, put it down, picked it up again, and put it down. I would scroll to the number, then click out of it back to the home screen. I scrubbed the kitchen, put in a load of laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, and loaded it with the few dishes left in the sink from the night Liam had been arrested.

I even considered swimming, but as the late afternoon waned to evening, I knew I had to choose whether to call Russ.

Our situation felt like a jigsaw puzzle, and I had all the pieces on the table in front of me. But I couldn’t yet figure out how to fit them together. I was close but not there yet.

Except the only reason they looked like they should fit together was because of my intuition, and trusting my intuition was a step I wasn’t sure I was ready to take.

Of everything about myself that Russ had worn down or crushed, confidence in myself and my intuition had been the most difficult to bring back. Even after seeing what I had about Janelle, even with my intuition once more screaming that things weren’t right, I had difficulty trusting myself.

I knew deep down that something malevolent was going on—I had known it as soon as Liam had been arrested, and all the events since had only helped to add to my certainty. And after Janelle’s suspect behavior, I was more than sure she was involved.

And now Russ was suddenly trying to push his way back into my life. The timing was too perfect. For one, I knew he wouldn’t call me without a good reason. When Russ swore someone out of his life, he was done until he had a use for them again.

And I could guess my use, especially knowing he was now the CEO of Liam’s rival company—the one Janelle used to work for.

But even so, going forward with my plan to save Liam and his company was difficult. I was almost positive I was following the right path, hunting down the right leads. But I was an interior designer, not a detective or private investigator. What would happen if I was wrong? What if I was putting together clues that didn’t exist or didn’t, at least, go where I thought they were leading?

The possibility of blowing things up and making them so much worse kept me from dialing Russ’s number. I had conviction, but the fear that I was wrong, that my intuition was wrong, was keeping me from acting. I didn’t have enough practice following my gut to tell me whether I was right or simply imagining things because of my feelings toward Janelle and Russ.

I was also terrified of what would happen if I was right. What did I know about getting people to confess or getting information out of them to use in a court case? I was the only one who knew what I was doing—it seemed too dangerous to let anyone else in, though I desperately wanted to. I almost texted Bianca or even Kristen, hoping they could lend me some insight or help me plan what to do.

But this was my thing, my suspicion whether it was right or wrong. The last thing I should do was drag anyone else down with me. At least if I were wrong, I would be the only one facing the consequences, and everyone else could honestly say they had no idea what I was doing, that I had been acting alone.

I would do that and more to save Liam. Every day of the week and twice on Sunday. And in less than a heartbeat.

With that thought spurring me on, I picked up my phone and selected Russ’s number before I could start overthinking things again. It rang only twice before he picked up, telling me that whatever he wanted to talk to me about was important to him. Otherwise, he would have let it go to voicemail.

“Hey, Bailey. What’s up?”

My body instantly tensed at the sound of the voice at the other end of the line. But it was more than tension—my breathing grew shallow, my skin flushed cold and then hot, and anxiety squeezed my chest tight as the animal part of my brain froze like a deer in headlights.

“Hey. You called?”

It took everything I had to sound natural on the phone, as though my entire body weren’t one giant fear response. To sound like calling my horrible, narcissistic ex was an everyday occurrence.

“Yeah, I did.” Russ’s voice dripped molten honey, which I recognized as his most charismatic—and narcissistic. The sound sent a shiver up my back. It was how he had charmed me, but I had also heard him use it with other women while we were together. When I had been with him, in fact, right in front of my face, as though he were punishing me for not being enough, showing me what he could do if he wanted. All he had to do was flash that white smile, that wink, and he could have any girl he wanted, so I had to be careful. I had to be perfect. I had to be grateful.

“So, Bailey, what are you up to?”

I heard leather creak and imagined Russ shifting on his couch—he’d always loved his black leather couches as a weird status symbol.

“I’m calling you back. You called me, you remember?”

What I really wanted to do was to tell him off, scream at him over the phone and tell him to leave Liam and me alone. But I knew he would only grow angry at the show of defiance and double down on whatever evil he was hatching.

No, I had to take a page from his book and catch flies with honey instead of vinegar. I had to play his game, and this time, I had to play it better than he did. I only hoped I had what it took. Otherwise, I would be caught up in his web again before I even knew I was stuck.

“So what’s up?” I asked, taking silent, deep breaths to calm my racing pulse.

“I’ve missed you, Bailey. I’ve missed you so much.” The confession sounded sincere, with enough pain in his words to make me believe I had truly crushed his heart. Except Russ didn’t have a heart to destroy, and I knew it was all a show. He could have been an A-list star with acting chops like his.

“You have?” I asked, trying to sound surprised.