Page 53 of Obsessed Heir

“I still think you’re making a huge mistake,” Steven says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You need a professional. Someone who knows what they’re doing and canfollow directionsproperly.” He pauses, his gaze cutting to me. “Someone who can bring recognition to the line.”

Holly arches one delicate brow, her lips thinning into a tight line of disapproval at his insolence. “Duly noted. I’ll give your suggestions all the consideration they require.”

To my surprise, Steven’s demeanor shifts, and he actually claps his hands together, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Good. Good. Good.” He reaches for his back pocket, satisfaction in his eyes. “We can get Bronwyn here in minutes to take over.”

The bastard actually thinks he got Holly to agree with him.

“Oh, we’re not getting Bronwyn,” Holly cuts him off, her tone surprisingly patient. “Abby will finish this photo shoot for us, just as we planned. She’s been the epitome of professional, despite the conditions.”

“I wouldn’t call—” Steven begins condescendingly, but Holly silences him with a raised hand.

“You seem to forget,” she says, the veneer of professionalism slipping away to reveal her steely determination, “I’m the onewho has final approval over what photos make the cut. Not. You.”

I know enough to keep my mouth shut and let Holly handle this her own way. She doesn’t need me to come rushing to her defense. She’s more than capable of handling the arrogant prick and asserting her authority.

Steven switches back to the disgruntled, annoyed prick he was earlier.

“Fine, let’s get you situated on the couch for this final set,” he mutters.

Chapter Twenty

Abigail

Istep into the bathroom then lock myself in. Standing on tippy-toes, I hang the new outfit on the hook behind the door.

A peek into the mirror confirms I don’t appear as put together as I did a few minutes ago. While my stomach is fairly flat, I have a bit of a bubble butt. According to Steven, he could makeeven melook good, if he caught the right angle.

Ugh, the guy really knows how to break a person’s confidence.

I’m a ball of nerves, about to show most everything to anyone who wants to sign up for pictures. Of course, as Miss Opal said, this is modeling. So it’s not like this shoot will come back as anything other than a job.

I don’t plan to put modeling on my résumé. But I suppose someone could still find me if they saw a picture. It’s not as if I run in the same circles as the people who can afford this cruise.Except for a twist of fate, and Miss Opal’s ankle, I wouldn’t be here at all.

I slip out of the purple one-piece, folding it in half before placing it on the counter with the other two. I’m left standing here, completely naked, as I reach up and grab the hanger.

All the while, I try to ignore the fact the color of the wall shows through the thin fabric.

I pick up a narrow strap from the notch on the hanger, and it comes loose in my hand. The strap is attached to a tiny triangle and three beads. Curious, I go back at the outfit, trying to figure out where this goes.

Several seconds later, it dawns on me. This is the underwear that goes under the nightie. “What the…”

I pull the ends of the triangle that barely stretches across my palm. What the heck is it supposed to cover? I’ve seen string bikini bottoms with more material than this. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I can do it. Not if I’ll be wearing next to nothing.

“I still think you’re making a huge mistake,” Steven’s snotty comment filters through the door. “You need a professional. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing and canfollow directionsproperly,” he says with enough emphasis to make me cringe. “Someone who can bring recognition to the line.”

“Duly noted,” Holly replies. “I’ll give your suggestions all the consideration they require.”

I assume he’s the one clapping. “Good. Good. Good.” Steven’s voice sounds much more cheerful. “We can get Bronwyn here in minutes to take over.”

My shoulders relax. I’m off the hook, and I’ve never been so relieved.

“Oh, we’re not getting Bronwyn,” Holly replies. “Abby will finish this photo shoot for us, just as we planned. She’s been the epitome of professional, despite the conditions.”

What little hope of freedom shrivels up and dies inside me.

“I wouldn’t call?—”

---