Page 27 of Obsessed Heir

Several of the staff address me in passing.

“Another drink, sir?”

“I’m good. But I’ll leave you this empty.” I hand off what’s left of my champagne before continuing inside.

I head across the ship, toward the private elevator, intent on getting to my suite. I pull my phone out and send James a message.

Send lunch for two to my suite.

Abigail can go to the dining room if she’s hungry. Then I reconsider. While I may not want the girl around, excluding her would be purposefully rude. My very Southern mother would give me an earful.

The ladies have already had their meal. Would you like me to arrange for something for you?

And here I am thinking of manners.

Yes.

Annoyed, I shove the phone into my pocket. Glancing across the ship’s atrium, I spot a familiar figure one floor down. And, this time, I’m not the only one watching those hips sway.

My hand tightens into a fist.

Chapter Nine

Abigail

Are they out of their ever-loving minds? There isno wayI’m paying this much money for a freaking T-shirt.

With a regretful sigh, I hold the top in front of me, taking one last longing look at the fuzzy polar bear cubs printed on the soft fabric.

Those furry little bears are so cute, they’re nearly irresistible. Why do they have to be so adorable? But I can’t, I just can’t justify the steep cost, no matter how much I might want this T-shirt.

I’ve bought evening wear for less than the price tag on this piece of cotton.

“Remember,” Barron’s deep voice suddenly rumbles in my ear, that single gruff word making my spine stiffen in an instant. “You have to pay for that if you plan to take it.”

A hot flush of shame rushes to my face as his words trigger an onslaught of memories I’ve desperately tried to bury deep.

I’m transported back eight years to that mortifying moment of being caught red-handed and handcuffed, completely at the mercy of the authorities. The sound of the cold metal handcuffs locking fills my mind.

A wave of nausea washes over me as I’m overwhelmed by vulnerability, making me feel small and worthless. To this day, I still don’t know if that’s because of what I did or because he was there to witness it.

I force myself to push those painful memories aside and ground myself in the present. Swallowing hard, I gather my courage and glance over my shoulder at Barron’s intimidating figure towering behind me. He casually shoves his hands in his pockets as he regards me with an air of superiority.

I school my expression, trying to stay as neutral as possible. If it was anyone else, I’d whip around boldly and tell him to back the fuck off. Lord knows I’ve had to do that often enough. But not with him…

Barron has an uncanny way of stripping me of my power. It’s like getting caught all over again. The shame I felt that day when he walked in to find me at my lowest point comes roaring back whenever he’s involved.

“I’m well aware,” I manage to croak out, my throat tightening as I fail to come up with a proper retort. Damnit, why does he have this effect on me?

My fingers tremble slightly as I do my best to fold the ridiculously overpriced T-shirt the way it was.

There was a time when I looked up to Barron with awe and admiration. How could I not? Tall, ruggedly handsome, and his mother’s whole life. How naïve I was to ever think he deserved to be on a pedestal.

How I wish Miss Opal hadn’t called Barron when I was in trouble. The moment I saw him, I knew the incident would haunt me, becoming my own scarlet letter for years to come.

And now, here we are, still playing out that same awful script. With just a few simple words and his overwhelming presence, he stripped me of my composure without a single bit of effort.

Unfortunately, Barron, being his typical arrogant self, destroys any possible sense of peace or control. The weight of his imposing presence is like the looming threat of a brick wall about to collapse over me. As much as I struggle to hold my ground, it’s increasingly difficult not to crumble.

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