Page 65 of Obsessed Heir

Embarrassment burns at my cheeks as I relive the moment Holly walked in. Just a few seconds before…

Miss Opal’s door is closed. She won’t be back until at least after dinner. Which means I can stay locked in my room.

Hurrying inside, I close the door firmly behind me and lean against it the way I’ve seen in so many of the old movies Miss Opal enjoys watching. The tension coiled inside me starts to fade away.

Somehow, I made it through all that without falling apart.

I cross the room and sink into bed, where I burrow under the covers. Even here, I feel like I’m surrounded by Barron. I’d swear I can smell his scent lingering in the air.

Reaching out, I get the robe I left at the foot of the bed this morning. I jam my arms into the sleeves and tighten the belt around my waist. With my height, it’s nearly down to my ankles, yet I still feel naked. It’s the underwear, or lack of underwear, that has me squirming. No, not really…

Reality comes crashing down on me.

Oh my God. I just let Barron McClelland, a man I hate, finger me to orgasm.

And I loved it.

I bring my hands up and bury my face in the fluffy sleeves. How am I ever going to face him after this?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Barron

“Pour more champagne for her, slowly,” Steven directs the waiter.

My mother nods regally, the picture of poise and grace as always. Steven snaps photo after photo during this elaborate setup for dinner.

The distaste must show on my face because Holly sidles up beside me.

“We’re almost done,” she murmurs under her breath as she checks her phone screen for the time.

I shoot her a look loaded with meaning. I’ve been standing off to one side, watching with barely contained irritation.

“And that’s a wrap.” Steven lowers the camera. “You were an absolute delight.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Mother gives him a brilliant smile as Holly heads in their direction.

Though the little prick has been behaving now that he’s photographing someone who wouldn’t have been Bronwyn.

My jaw ticks at the memory of him harassing Abigail earlier.

Much the way I did…

All she did was browse through the T-shirts. I didn’t let her get past that.

Then there’s the image of her shattering in my arms…

I snap back to reality, my fists clenching at my sides. I can’t keep letting that go through my head.

“James,” I call out.

He steps away from where he’s supervising the two attendants who are waiting to clear the area. “Yes, Mr. McClelland.”

“Once we’re done with dinner, I’ll need you to run my mother back to the suite.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get her home right away,” he responds with a quick gesture of acknowledgment.

I rethink the statement, since James may take it as a direct order.

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