Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Abigail

A re they out of their ever-loving minds? There is no way I’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 na?ve 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.

Anxiety surges inside me, leaving me fidgety and on edge. Unable to stand his silent judgment, I stride away, leaving him behind as I move through the store.

My heart’s racing. I go from one rack to another, knowing I won’t be purchasing anything, even if I find something affordable. Not with Barron casting a shadow over me at every step.

The tension inside me grows. I make my way through the aisles of the interconnected stores blindly, needing to put some distance between us.

The shopping area’s open concept is designed to keep customers flowing from one store to the next during business hours.

My palms are sweating as I sidestep the other casual shoppers milling about. The area seems smaller somehow, and it’s fast becoming claustrophobic.

Tables on either side of me display all manner of merchandise. Glossy advertisements with models and celebrities hang on the walls, but I can’t focus on any of them.

The urge to simply break free and run is overwhelming, a primal impulse to flee from the threat. But I can’t show Barron any outward sign of weakness. Feeling utterly flustered, I pivot, desperate to put more distance between us.

Someone approaching from the opposite direction cuts off to the left to avoid me. I’m not foolish enough to think they’re moving for my sake. They’re clearing a path for the six-foot-tall Neanderthal coming up behind me.

Another tremor cuts through me as Barron continues to unsettle me. He could have been someone I’d see as a mentor, or even a savior of sorts—with a touch of youthful hero worship added to the list. But when we finally came face-to-face, the only thing in his cold eyes was disdain and judgment.

Something inside me shriveled up and withered at that moment. After that, all I could only envision Barron as a harsh taskmaster, wielding a menacing whip to snap at my heels.

I navigate through the next interconnected store. My attention is split between frantically scanning my surroundings for an exit and the imposing man behind me. Barron’s unwavering gaze bores into me like a heavy yoke across my shoulders.

My arm bumps against a carousel filled with trinkets and knick-knacks, sending the hanging items swinging wildly.

I spin around, eyes wide, holding out both hands instinctively to stop the motion. Losing a second to ensure the carousel won’t topple over, I quickly move on without a backward glance.

My heart is pounding so loudly, blood rushes in my ears as my innate fight-or-flight response has well and truly kicked in.

Adrenaline is screaming at me to keep moving. The world around me blurs into peripheral shadows and shapes as I get tunnel vision.

A sudden, unexpected scent breaks through the haze and brings me to a screeching halt.

Instead of the clean, generic fragrance of fabric from the clothing stores, I’m hit with a heady floral aroma—something sweet yet spicy, layered with hints of leather and musk. Even the lighting changed, and the temperature ticked up a few degrees.

I blink and look around, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment washing over me. Somehow, I’ve wandered into a high-end lingerie boutique. I’ve been in stores that sell intimate apparel before, but this place is at a whole other level.

I’m left momentarily speechless. The racks hold delicate lace and satin lingerie in pale feminine hues—soft pinks and creamy ivory to metallic and gem studded. Sheer cotton I can see through, and racks of shockingly risqué pieces with hardly any substance to them.

My cheeks flush hot as my gaze moves to the far wall. It’s entirely devoted to vinyl and leather, studded or otherwise. I’m caught by a particularly daring leather bustier with gleaming metallic studs.

I’m struck by curiosity, wondering how I might look wrapped in something like that…and who I’d wear it for.

I’m so distracted by the opulent, sensual atmosphere of the place that at first, I don’t notice the slender saleswoman approaching me. It isn’t until she politely clears her throat that I turn to face the expectant blonde woman wearing a pleasant smile.

“Hi there,” she greets me in a warm, yet professional tone. “Welcome aboard. Can I help you find anything in particular today?”

I’m rendered speechless for a long moment, completely unsure how to respond. I’ve wandered far off track in my panicked attempt to escape Barron’s presence. Now I’m feeling thoroughly out of my depth.

“Um...no.” I shake my head awkwardly as I glance around again at the provocative lingerie. “I’m sorry, I-I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

I turn on my heel, ready to retrace my steps and exit the way I came. But after just two strides, I walk directly into a solid wall of muscle. Strong hands grip my upper arms, stopping me dead in my tracks.