Page 35 of Obsessed Heir

“But—”

“I trust her implicitly. And I value the assistance she provides,” she continues in a softer tone. “I have absolutely no doubt that she has my very best interests at heart with everything she does.”

I open my mouth with the intent to argue, but my gut tells me it won’t do any good. Frustration wells up inside me. I can’t understand why she can’t see what’s in front of her.

I’ll let it go, but I’ll keep a closer eye on Abigail from now on. I just hope it isn’t already too late.

Chapter Thirteen

Barron

The insistent buzz from my phone distracts me from staring blankly at the print hanging across from my desk. It’s a shot taken inside an underground cave with a single ray of light cutting through the darkness from above.

Frowning, I glance at the screen, my pulse kicking up when I see Holly’s name.

We have a problem.

This can’t be good. I dial her number. What the hell could have gone wrong? She’s at the club, which has security.

“Hang on…” she says, without waiting for me to speak.

The loud music in the background would make it impossible to have a conversation without shouting. Seconds later, with the background noise muted, the tone for the keypad to the office comes through clearly.

I glance back at the print, rereading the quote that sits under it.We all make small decisions that together weigh on us by the gravity of the consequences.

Hopefully that isn’t an omen this time.

Holly gives an exaggerated sigh. “Sorry. Had to get out of there.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, preparing myself for whatever’s coming.

“You haven’t made Bronwyn any promises, have you?” she asks with concern.

“No. I left everything up to you.” I’m not about to jump into additional problems if I can avoid them.

She gives a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Curiosity gets the best of me. “What happened?”

“She’s doing…” Seconds tick by, the silence stretching out until I’m gripping my phone. “Well, she’s drunk,” she says, annoyed. “And she’s doing somequestion-able stuff.”

Of course she is. Questionable stuff is essentially why underground sex clubs exist. Jesus, why did I ever let Holly do this? “Holly, it’s a sex club, so?—”

“No. I-I get that,” she says, sounding unsure and really uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you let Elliot take over?” I suggest.

Sex clubs aren’t her scene, yet she offered so I could spend time with my mother. I should be grateful for that.

“Security stepped in to defuse the situation,” she rushes to assure me.

“Security?” I straighten. That sounds like a bigger problem than what I thought.

“She went after a guy with a bottle.”

What the bloody hell? “Bronwyn smashed a bottle on someone?” I ask, confused. She doesn’t strike me as a brawler, though alcohol can change someone’s personality.

“Nooo-oh,” she says, sounding embarrassed. The awkward pause ends with her clearing her throat. Something tells me I’mnot going to like what she says next. “That’s not…where she wanted to put it.”

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