Page 8 of Obsessed Heir

Oh hell.

“James.” Holly stands. “Let’s find a place to talk.”

“What is it, man?” It’s not like I’ll be able to sit here waiting. The passengers are from all over the globe. This could range from an elevator jamming to having the crane drop an entire load of foodstuff into the drink, and caviar ain’t cheap. Worse yet, we had a terrorist attack.

“It’s…” His gaze slides to Bronwyn. “It’s Mrs. McClelland.”

“What?” My reaction is to turn to Holly. How did my mother end up pulled into this conversation?

Holly turns to me with a pained expression. “Surprise,” she says weakly.

“She’s here?” Instantly, I pull my arm out of the woman’s grasp.

“Mrs. McClelland?” Bronwyn says, shocked at the announcement. She cranes her neck, watching in astonishment as I kick my chair back and stride past her, James following close behind.

James takes the lead. “She’s twisted her ankle, sir.”

“Damn it.” I haven’t been face-to-face with my mother in years. This is a hell of a way to have the visit start. “How bad is it?”

“I’ve sent Doctor Stein to meet her.” I follow as he cuts around the passengers waiting for the elevator and goes bounding down the stairs.

“Barron. Ba-rron,” someone calls out, but I don’t miss a step. They can’t be my priority right now.

“We’ll take the gangway through the loading area so we avoid the people at immigration.”

Anger rips through me as James deftly weaves through the crowd. The closer we get to the lower deck, the more dread pools in my stomach.

Holly dragged my mother halfway across the country, likely with several attempts to put off the trip. Her insistence that she’s too old for extended travel is bullshit, though the way she ended up hurting herself validates her point.

Fuck.A layer of guilt pushes me for more. What will she need? Rhys Davenport purchased a helicopter he’s moving up to his island aboard the ship. I’d have no problem pulling him into service.

I should have made it a point to visit, but I’ve been tied up with launching Maiden Cruise Line. My investors know I’m involved in every aspect of the project. And I won’t walk away until I’ve verified every item has been completed.

I take part in everything from the concept to the design and blueprint then the actual construction. I thought that was the worst of it. Turns out, there were thousands of decisions to bemade, from safety and reinforcement all the way down to the cocktail napkins.

So, I wasn’t there.

“Is she in pain?”

“I spoke to her assistant, Abigail.” He shakes his head. “So I’m afraid I don’t know,” he says with regret. “Though Abigail did sound like she was in a panic. That’s why I contacted the doctor first.”

“Good call.”

Abigail. The image of the girl, when she turned fifteen, fills my mind, souring my mood even more. We agreed she would only be around until she turned eighteen. The girl turned twenty this year, and yet, here she is, at my mother’s side, a dutifulassistant.

The morning sun hits my face, the warmth failing to penetrate my skin as I make it onto the dock. Now that we’re in an open area, I widen my stride, easily passing James.

“They should be by the gate,” he calls out.

A few steps farther, and I can see past the gate. Stein already reached them and has her sitting in a wheelchair. A goddamn wheelchair.

Abigail looks up as I approach, apprehension in her features. The girl has grown in the last eight years. She has an arm around Mother’s shoulder, offering comfort.

“Barron.” Mother manages a welcoming smile despite her ashen face and pained expression.

I reach her side, my gaze drinking in every change that’s happened since I last saw her. The vulnerability in her eyes is heart-wrenching, sparking my protective instincts. I’m an ass for setting her in second place.

Abigail takes a step back. I’m not sure if she’s giving me a moment with Mother or putting space between us.

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