Page 50 of Obsessed Heir

“Shift your hips.”

I follow his instructions to the best of my ability. The camera clicks once then stops. I cringe inwardly, waiting for one of his grumpy comments.

“No!” He blows out a breath and says something I should probably be grateful I can’t hear. “Dig your hip into the couch so your waist dips.”

Click, click, click.

“It’ll be perfect,” Holly assures the model. “Just look at her. She’s beautiful.”

“Knee forward, touching the cushion, and hand up under your cheek so we can see that ass.”

Is it Bronwyn? A blush crawls up my cheeks. I don’t want to think about the fact that someone with her thin, classy figure is watching me while the camera’s going.

Please let it be anyone but her.

“Okay,” Steven says, exhaling. “We’re good.”

“Yay.” Holly gives an encouraging little cheer as she heads in my direction. “Just one more outfit.”

I relax, putting my hand under my breasts to keep myself decent as I sit up. I turn to face her, but the first thing I see isn’t Holly. It’s Barron McClelland filling the doorway. He’s focused on me, his eyes dark and unforgiving.

I swallow my trepidation. I should have been clearer when I asked for it to beanyone but her.

I push myself up to stand, still holding the lace below the cups of this one-piece. The pressure between my legs assures me the crotch on this thing covers me as well as it can, considering it’s mostly lace. And telling someone who doesn’t swim that this is like wearing a bathing suit isn’t helpful.

I’m sure there are millions of confident women who would feel comfortable wearing something so revealing. They have the confidence to walk up to a man while the thin straps on thelingerie slip down until the lace is barely hanging on by a nipple. I am not one of those women.

I have the urge to turn around for a bit of privacy while I adjust my clothes to ensure all the important bits are properly covered. However, giving them my back will only show more of me.

The only way I got through the earlier scene where I was kneeling in front of the mirror was because Holly got creative. I had to wear the robe that came with that outfit. She had me slip it off a little at a time. By the time we finished, my butt was fully uncovered.

Holly heads straight for me, bringing a dry-cleaning bag with her. Heat comes off my cheeks as I move across the room to meet her. I only take a few steps before I stop, letting her come the rest of the way. My legs aren’t cooperating. At the moment, they feel like they’re made of jelly.

It can’t be because Barron is standing there, like a whole mountain range in the background, right? It’s like my senses are suddenly turning on me. Having wobbly legs only makes the experience of being on board a ship that much worse.

I still have to figure out how Miss Opal talked me into this so easily. Did she know I’d be here, in the middle of a room, barely dressed, while people took pictures of me?

Maybe it’s blind faith in the woman. Maybe I just want to earn my keep. Either way, I never expected to be the main focus of people’s attention when I’m practically spilling out of this outfit.

I’m fighting the need to fidget with the lace on what I’m wearing. If this was a skirt or shorts, I’d be yanking down on the hem to make sure I was decent. But I left decent in the rearview mirror a long time ago. If only this piece came with a robe too.

Holly pulls the plastic bag over the hanger and tosses it over her shoulder. Bringing her hand under the sheer white cotton, she holds it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.

It’s the nightie she chose at the end. Only she found a seamstress on board who could tailor the piece the way she wanted it.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” she whispers.

I swallow hard. “Yes, it is beautiful.” I run my fingers under the material. Each finger is clearly visible through the delicate cotton. “It’s a little…thin,” I murmur, curling my toes into the carpet. “Don’t you think?” My voice trembles a bit on that last part.

Steven is right. They should have gone with a professional model. Someone tall and sleek, sophisticated and worldly. All the things I’m not.

I try my best not to glance past her, to where Barron is looking down his nose at me. Why does he disapprove of me? It could be because I’m the help, or because of my age. Then again, he knows I’m my father’s daughter. Not that I can do anything about any of those things.

“I realize it is a little revealing,” Holly begins with a patient smile.

The understatement of the year. They’ll be able to see my DNA in this.

“These pictures will only be available in the studio.” She turns thoughtful. “I want to create something with a power dynamic to it. It’s the innocent maiden at the mercy of the big, bad billionaire,” she says, gesturing toward Barron.

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