Page 74 of Obsessed Heir

Austin agrees, and with a final nod, he steps out. I’m left with my own thoughts on family and how they’re a part of us. Mother’s words echo in my mind.

You’re just like your father.

A rush of annoyance has me pushing away from my desk.Time to go.

I leave my office, stopping to make sure the lock clicks in place. The first thing I see is a couple in a nearby alcove. The dim light casts a shadow over the entwined bodies.

The woman, wearing a slinky red dress that hugs her curves, is sitting across a guy’s lap. Her long legs are draped over his thighs, her hips moving as she grinds on him. He’s bringing down a thin strap on her dress, his fingers grazing her bare shoulder.

I look away, concentrating on reaching the exit. I purposely avoid eye contact, not wanting to engage in any conversation.

The intimate scene in the alcove hit too close to home, stirring up memories I’d rather not dwell on. Yet, desire rushes through me, bringing Abigail to mind. The waterfall of hair, her eyes still damp with tears, the soft lips I didn’t get to taste.

I clench my jaw, shoving the thoughts away. I can’t let myself be swayed by a pretty face and a luscious body. No matter how bad I want it.

Fuck.

“Barron.” Someone calls my name. The woman’s voice cuts through the haze. “Come have a drink.”

It’s a friendly invitation, but I continue through, finally reaching the entrance. I shove the door open, intent on getting the hell away from the club and everyone in it. Only I nearly collide with the very person I wanted to avoid.

“Barron.” She pouts, batting her lashes at me. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

“Bronwyn,” I reply with a curt tone, keeping my greeting short and noncommittal.

“I was hoping I’d find you here tonight,” she purrs, her tone heavy with suggestion as she runs a finger along my arm. “Are you sure you can’t come play for a little while?”

“I have somewhere to be,” I state firmly, brushing past her without letting her slow me down. I’m in no mood to entertain Bronwyn’s games at the moment.

“Miss O’Neal,” Austin says from directly behind me. “I’d like to talk to you.”

I make my way down the corridor. The club attendants and staff I pass give me a wide berth, likely picking up on my foul mood and body language.

Yesterday, I was unaffected, unfazed by it all. But today, after my heated encounter with Abigail, everything is different. That woman I just saw was too close to what I’ve been picturing in my head. What I was doing with Abigail. What I wanted to continue doing with Abigail.

I had to escape the charged atmosphere and get my dick under control, to erase the images of her from my mind.

I don’t want to think about the way that dress let me count the tiny freckles on her shoulders.

The dress that had me imagining the taste of her nipples.

The sorry excuse for underwear that made me wonder what it would be like if I replaced the fingers I had probing her pussy with my aching cock.

I reach the elevator and shove my hand in my pocket, retrieving the key card I need. One swipe and the doors open, letting me step inside the waiting car. A jab of my thumb on the button sends me shooting up to my suite.

I’m in a foul mood. I don’t want anyone around right now. Not Holly, not the people at the club, and certainly not Bronwyn and her repeated attempts to lure me in. I thought it would be interesting to see how far she’d go to try to dig her talons into me, but that was short-lived.

The numbers light up as I get closer to my floor. By this hour, everyone should be asleep. It’s past two o’clock back in Texas,and, according to what Mother said yesterday, she’s normally falling asleep by ten.

The doors slide open. I exit the elevator and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror lining the wall ahead. No wonder people shrank away. I look pissed, and ready to take it out on the first person to get in the way.

How can I be so distracted, so consumed, over a woman who’s quite possibly taking advantage of my mother’s generosity? I should leave her at the next port. That’s close enough to an airport that she could fly home without a problem. At this point, anywhere away from my family will do.

Needing a diversion from my spiraling thoughts, I snag a book off the shelf at random. I had the shelves stocked with titles I’ve read or I’m interested in reading, so it hardly matters which one I grab.

I let myself into the suite, catching the heavy door before it can slam shut and disturb anyone inside. Even though I could do with yelling at at least one of them. Abigail for the role she’s playing, and Mother for allowing herself to be so easily manipulated.

I stride through the darkened living area and past the kitchenette without making too much noise. But, once I’m inside my bedroom, I still feel like a caged animal, the spacious quarters doing little to alleviate the building pressure inside me.

---