Page 104 of Obsessed Heir

I exhale, disappointed. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so annoyed with Holly, and that’s saying a lot. “Yeah. Be right there.”

“Great! I have pictures for you to review. Come to the office.”

Detouring to the dresser, I grab a white undershirt and pull it over me. I shove my wallet in my pocket before leaving my bedroom.

I find Holly spreading the images out on the conference room table.

“Your mom looks fantastic,” she says over her shoulder.

Pausing at the small refrigerator, I reach for a bottled water. “She always does.” Petite and stylish, she’s the ideal model. Likely why Holly decided to use her for the layout.

The three women she’s using represent the generations who will travel with us. The only one missing is a child…

Once again, the image of Abigail, her belly nicely rounded, fills my mind. My cock stirs at the thought of putting that baby in her.

“Steven did an excellent job.” She opens a manila folder, spreading a second batch of photographs across the table.

I twist off the top of my water and take a long drink as I eye the images. Mom having dinner with a man in a tux. A chef serving an elegant meal. Her choosing from an array of mouthwatering desserts. The waitstaff arranged in a V, each one of them holding a different wine bottle.

Next is Bronwyn, stretched out in a minuscule red bikini by the pool, a waiter delivering her a tropical cocktail with an umbrella. Her face is obscured by oversized dark sunglasses.

I’m surprised. I expected Holly would want to make the most of Bronwyn’s popularity. It’s counter-intuitive to cover her face.

Finally, Abigail’s pictures come up. It’s the Maiden shots, with us greeting people strolling around the deck. Others where she and I are at The Martini Bar. Abigail is sipping her virgin drink while selecting a piece of artisan cheese.

Holly holds one last envelope to her chest, a self-satisfied smile playing across her lips.

“Mine turned out pretty good also,” she states, opening the clasp.

I know exactly what she’s got in there—the shots of Abigail in the barely there lingerie. I can still see her sitting across my lap, gazing at me with those big brown eyes, her full breasts about to spill over into my hands.

“You have to see these.” Holly turns up the flap. “This is a quick and dirty view of what I plan to use for the boudoir package.”

My throat goes dry as she sets the images down, one by one.

Abigail on the chaise lounge, her toned legs exposed. Her in a sheer black teddy, nipples visible through the lace. More intimate shots that show her long hair tousled, lips parted. Each one more enticing than the last.

Has she looked at these pictures? Actuallylookedat them?

“And…” Holly’s eyes are wide with excitement. “For the cover…”

She holds up the final picture, and I freeze.

That flimsy scrap that passes for underwear is a triangle the width of two fingers at the bottom of thin strings. The material is barely covering the center of her pussy.

The toned muscles at her abdomen lead the eye up to her chest. Her breasts only hidden by my forearm and my hand, a hint still visible underneath.

“No.” I tear the photo from Holly’s fingertips, bile rising in my throat.

“Barron?” Her eyes shoot open.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I snarl, crumpling the photo as I tighten my grip.

The thought of her picture out there for any guy to see is enough to push my temper to the limit. How many fuckers out there will be wishing they had their palm on her tits?

I glare at Holly as if she’s lost her mind.

“She’s perfect. And the Maiden belongs on the cover,” she says defensively, obviously proud of her work.

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