Crude Heir (Billionaire Heirs #3)

Excerpt from Ruthless Heir

Excerpt from Obsessed Heir

Abigail

My first glimpse of the Ice Maiden brings snippets from history class flashing before my eyes. Luxury liner. Maiden voyage. Iceberg. The inevitable end does a replay, the waves splashing against the ship as it sinks to the bottom of the ocean.

I shrink against the backrest, blinking away the terrifying image. What’s left of my breakfast is sloshing inside my stomach making things worse.

Ms. Opal, my boss, follows my line of sight, studying the massive ship as our driver maneuvers through dense Seattle traffic. “She’s a sight, isn’t she.” The jitter in her voice makes me second-guess sending her out on her own.

“Yes, she certainly is a sight,” I agree, doing my best to keep it cheerful. Of course, if I was heading on that Alaskan cruise with her, I’d be dreading every mile taking us closer to the ship.

“We’re almost there, ladies.” The driver smiles, though the rearview mirror shows he keeps his attention on the road ahead of us.

“I can hardly wait,” she adds, as if she hadn’t resigned herself to this trip. She puts up a brave front, but she’s nervous about a much overdue visit with her estranged son, Barron.

The memory I have of him from seven years ago is still fresh in my mind. Tall, imposing, with his face set in a perpetual scowl. The total opposite of his petite, older mother.

He’s the spitting image of his father. The words were clearly spoken and full of pride. I had to let them sink in. To this day, it still blows my mind when I try to picture her with an older version of Barron.

The click of the turn signal startles me. Each tick echoes in my head, making something in my tummy do a backflip.

“You alright, miss?” our driver asks, glancing in the mirrors as he starts to inch into the right-hand lane. The steady roll of the tires makes a distinct thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk as he maneuvers into a gap in traffic so we can take the exit ramp.

Ms. Opal turns to me, her eyebrows steepled in concern.

“Yes,” I reply, painting on a smile for her benefit. “I’ll be fine.” Of course I’ll be fine. I’m going back to the hotel with him, not going out onto the ocean, sidestepping icebergs for the next week.

Ms. Opal leans toward me. “You really should reconsider coming along, my dear. You’d hardly take up any room in my cabin,” she adds with a kind smile.

I coordinated the flight from Texas to Seattle, the hotel where we stayed last night, and this morning’s shuttle service to the dock. But there’s no way I’m stepping foot on that ship, much less going to Alaska with her.

Apart from my thing about open water, the trip would be thousands upon thousands of dollars. An expense she shouldn’t be making, least of all for me.

Then there’s Barron…

I shake off my unease as best as I can. “I’m just along to see you off safely,” I remind her. “I can only go as far as visitors are allowed.”

“But you’re going to be all alone, in a strange city.”

“I’ll be just fine waiting at the hotel until you get back.” Technically, I’ll be waiting at a different hotel. She insisted on paying for the room and meals since I’m waiting for her. The least I can do is find a cheaper place so she doesn’t have to spend more than she should. Though she won’t know that I relocated until she gets back. Otherwise, she’ll spend the time worrying about my safety.

We come to a standstill and there’s no traffic light in sight. Ms. Opal cranes her neck to look past the headrest in front of her. “Is everything alright?” she asks, clutching the handles on her overstuffed purse.

“Yes.” The driver nods. “Just morning traffic doing its thing. You don’t need to worry. You scheduled the drop-off with plenty of time to get to the dock.”

She gives him a genuine smile. “That’s all Abby’s doing.”

His gaze flips to the rearview mirror, focusing squarely on me, and stays there. “Great job, Abby,” he says in a more personal tone before he slowly turns back to the car in front of us.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my cheeks a little warm. “Is all this traffic going out there?” I ask, changing the subject back to the line of cars and SUVs stretching out into the distance. I still can’t get over how few trucks they have out here. It’s nothing like back home.

“These drivers go to a parking lot where they’ll leave their cars during the trip.” He points into the distance, but all I can see are buildings. Maybe one of those is a parking structure. “The passengers are loaded into shuttles and driven to the cruise ships.”

Traffic finally moves along, so I do another check with Ms. Opal. “You have your passport and boarding pass?”

“Yes.” She opens her purse, which she’s stuffed with a dozen extra things she insists she can’t do without. Rummaging through the wipes, tissue, pill box, she finally pulls out the dark blue booklet to show me.

“Good. You need to keep it handy, Ms. Opal. You can’t hold up the line.”

“I will,” she assures me, tightening her hold.

“And your boarding pass?”

“Right here.” She pulls the bright pink, plastic sleeve I got her to keep her documents together.

As much as she claims to be at the point of missing a step, she’s still got it together. Though she does have the occasional moment of being scatterbrained, which she claims comes from having blonde roots.

“Your pen is in there?”

“Yes.” She angles her shoulders. “And I’m dressed properly?”

I’m not sure what cruise-wear should look like, but she insisted on designer navy slacks and a blue-and-white silk top. Navy, because she’s sailing. “You look lovely as usual.”

The brakes squeal, the horn blares, and we’re thrust forward then to the left. “What are you doing?” the driver mutters, jumping on the horn.

I immediately reach out to brace myself, only to be yanked back by the seat belt. Ms. Opal goes through the same steps, her purse flipping in the process. “Oh dear.” She reaches out, clutching at the handles, but the bag tumbles off her lap, spilling documents, pens, and makeup onto the floorboard.

“It’s okay, Ms. Opal. I’ll grab everything in a minute.” I glance through the back window at a pale orange SUV that ignored the light and tried to cut into the line of traffic.

“Sorry, ladies.” He chances a quick glance in our direction. “You okay back there?”

“Yes. Who let that idiot behind the wheel?” she grumbles. I hold back a smile while she struggles to pull the seat belt away from her silk blouse. From Ms. Opal, who tries her best to be a proper lady, that’s as good as getting blasted.

“Yes.” I pull on the seat belt a couple of times to loosen its hold then turn to her. “I’ll get your things,” I assure her, so she settles back.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Abby.”

“You’ll do just fine. I promise.” I hand her the purse. “Just enjoy your time in such a beautiful place.” Reaching under our seat, I collect the travel-sized wipes she insisted she needed as a backup.

For all that she refers to me as her personal assistant, I know I started out as little more than a charity case. The daughter of a man who tried to con her out of an exorbitant amount of money. 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. Which is how I inherited a spot on Barron’s shit list.

“Oh look.” 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 lines,” our driver explains.

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

“They’re just 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 that 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 alone. 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 slows down, stopping at a gate with a security guard. His window goes down. “Dropping off a passenger for Mr. McClelland.”

The guard checks his tablet then leans in, glancing from Ms. Opal to me. “And the other passenger?” he asks, turning to our driver.

He tilts his head to the right. “She’s not staying.”

I catch the guard’s attention. “I’m Mrs. McClelland’s personal assistant, just here to see her on board.”

He nods. “Go on in.” A second later, the barrier goes up and we continue on.

Only a few more minutes. I pull my phone and shoot off a quick text letting the steward know to meet us at the ramp. I’m going to make it out without having to face Barron.

“Here we go.” The driver parks. “Let me get the door for you.” He goes around then 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 hunch down to clear the door. Once I step out of the shuttle, I glance up-up-up. The ship is even bigger when you’re next to it.

“This way, Ms. Opal.” I wave her over. She scoots across the seat, reaching out for my hand to support herself as she takes a careful step down.

The driver appears with one of her suitcases and my backpack. The ring at the end of the long strap makes a hollow sound as it drags along. “Ooop.” He holds the pack higher then sets both items on the ground. “Be sure to have your documents. You’ll hit immigration as soon as you go in.” He goes back to grab her second case.

Ms. Opal glances in her purse then brings her hand to her chest. “I had the passport in my hand.” She turns to check the seat.

I should have had her put it with the paperwork. “Let me go check. You probably dropped it when we went around that SUV.”

“Thank you, dear.” I head to the shuttle as she tilts her head back to look up at the ship. Will she feel as tiny as I do in the shadow of the Ice Maiden ?

The driver shuts the doors and comes around from behind the shuttle. “Crap.” The suitcase drops from his hand with a thud. He takes off at a run, his eyes wide.

“Ohh.” The sound of surprise comes from behind me. Ms. Opal is halfway to the ground when he reaches her.

“Oh my God.” I rush back, my stomach in a knot as he sets her down on one knee. “What happened?”

Her face turns red with embarrassment despite the grimace. “I looked up and it made me a little dizzy.” She tightens her hold on the driver’s arm.

“I’ve got you,” he assures her.

I loop an arm around her so she can brace herself against both of us as she rights herself. “I must have caught my heel on something.”

I look down at the offending piece of plastic on my backpack. “Oh, Ms. Opal. I’m so sorry.” Guilt washes over me. Despite the fact we’re at a nice hotel, my trust issues kicked in. I couldn’t bring myself to leave my laptop in the empty room for the few hours it would take to drop her off.

Ms. Opal flexes her foot, her grimace worrying me instantly. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Of course.” We turn, heading back to the shuttle.

“You should call Barron,” she says, limping along. “I may need some help getting on board.”

Oh hell. Now I’m going from avoiding him to having to explain how I crippled his mother.

Read Obsessed Heir today!