Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Abigail

M y first glimpse of the Ice Maiden triggers flashbacks to history class. Luxury liner. Maiden voyage. Iceberg. Watery grave.

The inevitable end does a replay, the waves splashing against the Titanic as it sinks into the depths of the ocean. Much the same way what’s left of the scrambled eggs and toast I had for breakfast slosh in my stomach.

I collapse against the backrest, blinking away the terrifying image. Miss Opal 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 my boss’s voice makes me second-guess sending her out on her own.

“Yes, she certainly is a sight,” I agree, doing my best to act cheerful.

If I was heading on the Alaskan cruise with her, this would be a different conversation. 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.

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

I have a vivid memory of him from eight years ago. 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 to picture her with an older, gruffer version of Barron.

The click of the turn signal startles me. Each tick echoes in my head, making my tummy somersault.

“You all right, miss?” our driver asks, glancing in the mirrors as he starts to inch into the next 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.

Miss Opal turns to me, her eyebrows steepled in concern as she waits for me to answer.

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

“You really should reconsider coming along, my dear.” She leans toward me. “You’d hardly take up any room in my cabin.”

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 setting foot on that ship, much less sailing to Alaska with her.

Apart from my thing about open water, the trip would be thousands upon thousands of dollars.

Then there’s Barron…

“I’m only here to see you off safely,” I remind her, trying to shake off my unease. “I can only go with you as far as the area where visitors are allowed.”

“But you’ll be all alone, in a strange city.”

“I’ll be waiting at a safe, well-equipped hotel on dry land.”

Technically, I’ll be 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 until she gets back. Otherwise, she’ll worry about my safety.

We come to a standstill and there’s no traffic light in sight. Miss Opal cranes her neck to look past the headrest in front of her.

“Is everything all right?” she asks, clutching the handles on her overstuffed purse.

“Morning traffic doing its thing. You don’t need to worry,” he adds. “You scheduled the drop-off with plenty of time to board.”

She gives him a genuine smile. “Abby planned everything herself.”

His gaze flips to the mirror, focusing squarely on me, and stays there.

“Great job, Abby,” he says in a more personal tone before turning to the car ahead of us.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my cheeks warming. “Is all this traffic going there?” I ask, refocusing the conversation on the cars and SUVs stretching for miles.

I still can’t get over how few trucks they have in this area. It’s nothing like Texas.

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

Traffic finally moves along, so I do another check with Miss 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, and pillbox, she finally pulls out the dark-blue booklet to show me.

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

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

“And your boarding pass?”

“Right here.” She pulls out 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 appropriately?”

I’m not sure what’s appropriate for cruise-wear, but she’s as classy as always. 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. Miss 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. Documents, pens, and makeup clatter as they spill onto the floorboard.

“It’s okay, Miss Opal. I’ll grab everything in a minute.” I glance through the rear window at the traffic jam. The mauve SUV that ignored the light and tried to cut in line is in the middle of it all.

“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 Miss 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 into her seat.

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

“You’ll be fine. I promise.” I hand her the purse. “You’re going to 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.

While she refers to me as her personal assistant, 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. 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.

“Must be something to be on a ship like this. Out in the middle of nowhere, with only water as far as the eye can see, for an entire week.”

Oh goodness. I did not need to hear that.

“And ice.”

“Yeah, can’t forget about the ice.” He chuckles. “Let me get the luggage so she doesn’t run late.” With that, he disappears to the back of the shuttle.

I pivot on a heel. “This way, Miss Opal.” I wave her over.

This should be a simple drop-off. I just need to wait for James to arrive. Once he’s collected her, I’ll hop in the shuttle and return to the city. Ten, fifteen minutes at most.

Miss Opal clutches her purse and the folder as she scoots across the seat. Reaching out, she holds on to me for support 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.

“Oops.” 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 to grab her second case.

Miss Opal glances in her purse then brings her fingers to her lips.

“I had the passport in my hand.” She turns to check the seat, her expression a mix of both concern and insecurity.

I should have had her put the passport with the paperwork. “I’ll go check. You probably dropped it when we went around the SUV.”

“Thank you, dear.” I move away as she tilts her head to admire 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 lands with a thud, and he takes off at a run, his eyes wide.

“Ooh.”

The sound of surprise comes from behind me. I swing around to find Miss 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?”

Miss Opal’s normally fair cheeks turn red, despite the grimace.

“I looked up, and it made me a bit 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 glare at the offending piece of plastic on my backpack.

“Oh, Miss Opal. I’m so sorry.” Guilt washes over me.

I’d planned on visiting the original Starbucks and grabbing a cup of coffee. I figured I could do some homework while I waited for check-in time at the new hotel.

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

The area around her ankle is swelling and taking on an angry color.

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

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

If there was ever a time for the earth to open up and swallow me whole, it would be now.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Resigned, I pull out my cell phone and press the button to call James. Each time the phone rings, I want to hurl.

How did I go from avoiding Barron McClelland to having to explain how I practically crippled his mother?