Page 49 of Obsessed Heir

Honestly, I’m with Steven for once. I’d be up for ending this now. However, I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut. On top of that, Miss Opal gave me a task to do…for her son. I’m not about to disappoint her, regardless of how I feel about this photo shoot, or her son.

Which makes me wonder what he’ll think of the pictures. Will he even care? I don’t care for him—I don’t, but there’s a part of me that wants to know.

Steven holds his hands out to his sides, palms up, then throws his head back. “Give me patience,” he pleads, loud enough for me to hear over the music playing in the background.

I bite the inside of my lip, trying to keep from saying anything. Maybe I should be the one to call it quits. I’ve done everything he’s asked, as best I can. No matter how careful I am, he’s not happy with me. That, in itself, is becoming a common trait with me.

“Point your toes, Abby,” Holly instructs. “With the high cut on that piece, it’ll give the appearance of added length to your legs.”

Short girl problems. I should get a T-shirt with that phrase across the front and a stepladder on the back.

There’s a knock at the door, and Holly turns away to get it.

I point my toes as instructed, making sure they’re toward the camera so the French pedicure will be visible in the picture.

Click, click, click, click.

Would anyone actually be checking my toes? I can’t imagine that’s the first thing a man would see if his wife or girlfriend is wearing this outfit.

“Focus on the mirror.” Steven’s annoyed voice cuts into my thoughts.

I lean my head back to the antique floor-length mirror they set up behind my chair. I can’t get over the makeup job. Holly requested sexy and sultry. Neither are terms I ever would have used to describe myself.

I’ve swapped out to the third piece Holly selected. It’s a purple negligee that mimics a corset on the front, with lacy cups that don’t quite hold me in. A thin line of the same lace goes down my lower back to disappear into nothing at the underside of my butt. I’m surprised it didn’t tear right off with all the moving around they’ve had me do.

Steven blows out a frustrated breath.

“You look cross-eyed in the mirror.” The exasperation in his voice leaves me ready to cry. Why can’t I get this right? Why? We’ve been at this for hours. Through each round, I try to do what he wanted before, and I miss the mark.

Taking a calming breath, I switch from my reflection to another spot on the mirror. I find the king-sized bed behind me. It’s covered in stacks of big fluffy pillows and pristine white lace against a blue background. Nothing like the bedding in our rooms.

But then, we’re on the opposite side of the suite. At most, one room between us and Barron’s bedroom.

Why did that have to pop into my head right now? I don’t even like Barron. Still, the image of him in that bed comes to mind. The covers thrown aside to show his bare back as he sleeps.

“You’ve got it,” Steven says with relief.

Click, click, click.

I lower my eyelids in sheer disgust. Of course, Steven would choose the moment I’m thinking about Barron to say I’m doing okay. I hold on to the feelings rippling inside until we’re done.

“We’ve got the next outfit,” Holly says.

“Don’t you dare move,” Steven snaps.

Click, click, click.

“Slowly…move your hand down your hip to your thigh.”

Click, click, click, click, click.

“That’s it. Relax your shoulders.”

Click, click, click.

“You’ve got it, baby,” he says with enthusiasm.

“You see? You’ll fit in great as part of this shoot,” Holly says, out of my line of sight. I don’t dare glance away now that things are finally going right. This must be the third model Holly mentioned. I’d thought she meant Miss Opal, who had to be rescheduled due to the ankle.

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