Page 3 of Obsessed Heir

Yet she kept me anyway, feeding and housing me and making sure I had an education. Anyone else would have left me on the streets to fend for myself. Not Miss Opal.

Which is how I inherited a spot on Barron’s shit list.

“Oh.” She points out the window to my right.

I watch, wide-eyed, as we pass a dock with two enormous white ships. There’s a flurry of activity in the area between them. People and luggage are stacked tight and shuttles are zigzagging in and out of the parking area.

“Those are commercial ships, with costs average people can afford,” our driver explains.

“Are they leaving too?” Miss Opal takes in the side view of the nearest ship.

“They’re coming in from their route. They leave tomorrow.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes, they’re sister ships from the same cruise line.” He picks up speed a bit once we clear the area. “You’re a day ahead, which is better, so it’s not as crowded when you hit ports.”

Ugh. I can’t imagine having so many people descending on the city. Actually, on the town. The images from the website show small communities, which would only make it so much worse.

We continue on, heading to another ship docked by itself. There’s an orderly line of shuttles waiting to drop off passengers. Only our driver veers to the right, driving entirely too close to the edge of the water.

He eases off the gas as he approaches a gated entrance. Lowering his window, he prepares to speak with a security guard.

“Dropping off a passenger for Mr. McClelland,” he says with authority.

The guard skims his tablet then picks up the first page to continue reading. It’s enough to make me nervous. What if the steward forgot to leave her name? Will I have to reach out to Barron? There’s absolutely nothing that would make me want to come face-to-face with him.

My stomach is on the verge of lurching when the guard sets the clipboard away from him. He leans in, glancing from Miss Opal to me. “And the other passenger?” he asks our driver.

“She’s not staying,” he replies, tilting his head to indicate me.

I catch the guard’s attention. He narrows his eyes as he regards me, adding to my concern.

“I’m Mrs. McClelland’s personal assistant.” I swallow hard, somehow managing not to babble. “Just here to see her aboard,” I end with a weak smile.

Satisfied, he nods. “Go on in.” A second later, the barrier goes up. Our driver continues ahead.

Only a few more minutes. I take out my phone and open the screen to find the last message I sent James.

We’re passing the guard post. Can you meet us at the ramp so I can introduce you to Miss Opal?

I’m on my way.

My nerves settle a little. I might actually make it out without having to face Barron.

“Here we go.” The driver puts the shuttle in park. He opens the door while unclipping his seat belt in one well-practiced move. It shows how often he’s called up to help passengers.

Coming around the vehicle, he slides the door open. The breeze blows through my hair, surrounding me with the scent of the ocean. Putting my palm to the top button on my blouse, I grasp the handle with my free hand and hunch down to clear the door.

Once I step out of the shuttle, I glance up-up-up. The ship—er, luxury liner, looks massive, now that I’m standing next to it. It’s much bigger than I expected.

“An impressive sight,” he murmurs, keeping his focus on me.

“Quite impressive.” I choose to ignore the implication, keeping my attention on the vessel.

The ship is towering above us, a bustle of activity. Final preparations are underway for the week-long journey into the frigid waters of Alaska.

He may have taken the hint because he turns to study the ship.

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