Page 46 of Obsessed Heir

“Hello, James,” I reply, hiding my disappointment. “What have you got there?”

“It’s a delivery for Miss Holly,” he explains, holding up the bag.

“Wouldn’t it be better off in her suite?”

“She needs it for the photo shoot.” James smiles. “She said to bring it up to your spare room as soon as it was ready.”

“Fantastic.” Why did I assume this wouldn’t be such a big deal when she mentioned it? At this point, everybody’s taking residence here. It’s a private suite, yet I have more traffic through here than LAX.

“Yes,” he agrees politely. “It must be an exciting time for Miss Abby.”

My back stiffens.

“Abby?” I take another look at the garment bag he’s holding. “They’re doing the photo shoot with Abigail? Right now?”

My annoyance must have slipped into my voice because James immediately stands up straighter. “Yes, Mr. Barron. The message said it was for Miss Abby’s photo shoot.”

Of course, he’d be eager to bring something to Abigail. Then an unwelcome suspicion creeps into my head. Could he be the reason she’s decided to stay in that room at night?

I’ll be taking care of you personally, night and day.

“I’ll take it,” I state firmly, holding out a hand.

He hesitates. “Are-are you sure? I don’t want to?—”

“I’ve got it.” Reluctantly, he hands over the bag with something about the size of a shirt. Is it that I’m taking this over or that he was dead set on seeing Abigail? Either way, I’ll handle it from here. “Do you know where my mother might be?”

He nods quickly. “Mrs. McClelland is at the spa, sir. She will be having her hair done then taken for the photographs scheduled at the captain’s table.”

“All right.” So I won’t see her again until this evening at dinner.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, that’s all, James.”

I turn and retrace my steps down the hallway, passing my bedroom and the office before arriving at the last door. Muffled music filters from the room, along with a man’s voice calling out instructions.

Holding the bag at arm’s length, I knock at the door. Seconds later, Holly sticks her head out, her eyes widening as she sees it’s me. Or, more likely, it’s that I’m holding the bag she’s been waiting for.

“Oh. You’re up.” She steps out to join me in the hall, catching sight of the bag. “Is that for me?”

“You had James deliver this,” I state, handing her the bag.

Her eyes widen. “Oh yes.” She reaches for the hanger.

I take the opportunity to address the other bit of business I wanted to discuss with her.

“You were right about Bronwyn,” I begin, watching Holly’s expression. The report Dante’s people put together in a matter of hours proved to be an eye-opener.

Holly freezes, the garment bag dangling from her hand. “How bad is it?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

“Maidenis the last thing anyone would have called Sally Jo Mobley before she changed her name.”

“Sally Jo?”

“Small town, Midwest, alcoholic father, mother working two jobs. Sally started getting in trouble as a teenager.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” she says, sighing.

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