Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Abigail

H alf an hour later, after helping Miss Opal get settled in her room, we’re back in the elevator, on the way to the shopping area.

“I’m so glad you’re up to helping with this project,” Holly says, sounding rather proud of herself.

“You heard Miss Opal. I’m supposed to help you in any way I can.” I do my best to produce a smile, even though my tummy has a stampede of butterflies. Why didn’t I leave the cabin when I had the chance? Then I wouldn’t have ended up roped into Holly’s plan.

“This just came to me yesterday, so I’m still fleshing out all the details,” Holly explains as we move down the hall at a brisk pace. “But I’d say you’re absolutely perfect for it,” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Despite the early hour, the area is bustling with passengers milling about the various stores. We weave through the crowds until we reach the section where I was yesterday when Barron found me. With any luck, I’ll be able to browse without him stalking me like the villain out of a slasher movie.

“I believe you’ve already been through some of our shops,” Holly comments offhandedly. She smiles automatically as people greet her along the way.

“Only a bit,” I reply, hoping she doesn’t start asking questions that lead to yesterday’s awkward run-in with Barron. I couldn’t deal with explaining the complicated relationship I have with Miss Opal’s son.

“I’d love to pick your brain about the setup once we have a minute to sit and chat.”

What feedback could I possibly give her? I barely made it into the shop when Barron showed up. Then I ended up moving blindly through the stores until…

To my horror, Holly heads straight into the lingerie shop I unwittingly stumbled into yesterday. The scent of flowers, spices, and leather surrounds us, taking me back to that awkward moment.

“Good morning,” an attendant greets us. “Welcome ab-aboard.” The woman does a double take when we walk into the store.

“Good morning,” Holly replies.

“Good morning,” I echo, trailing in behind Holly at a slower pace.

“Oh, Miss Reed,” she says, rushing over to us. “May I help you?”

Holly glances across the store.

“Oh.” She holds a finger up in front of herself. “I found who I need.” Then she points to the lady who greeted me yesterday.

“Camille,” the saleslady calls out, “Miss Reed wants to talk to you.”

“Hi, Camille,” she says with a friendly smile, catching the other saleslady’s attention. “Would you help us?”

“Yes, of course,” Camille replies, sounding a little apprehensive. Her face lights up as she comes around the counter. “Oh, you decided to come back.”

“Um, kind of,” I hedge because implying I had any part in this decision would be a stretch. I curl my toes inside my shoes as she flashes an encouraging smile.

“We’re doing a photo shoot today, and I’d like to enlist your help,” Holly explains to Camille.

“Okay, I’m all yours. What are we aiming for?” Camille readily agrees.

“I’m thinking boudoir photos,” Holly says in a conspiratorial whisper.

Camille gasps in what can only be called delight.

Boudoir?

“That’s a fabulous idea,” she says enthusiastically. “I don’t think I’ve heard about that being available on any other cruise line.”

“That’s what I thought,” Holly agrees with a broad grin.

I glance uncertainly from one excited face to the other, not understanding what this means. Yet, somehow, I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.

“Two or three pieces came to mind when you were here yesterday,” Camille says eagerly.

“Oh?” A nervous chuckle escapes me as I hope Holly doesn’t ask what happened with Barron.

“I figured you’d look banging in this style.” She moves over to a display, flipping through different nighties in pink, purple, and blue.

“You don’t think she can pull off the bolder colors?” Holly asks, with a critical eye in my direction.

And suddenly that spotlight is pointing my way. Camille turns to me. She bites her lip, tilting her head as she considers the question. Stepping closer, she does a more critical inspection of my face, hair, shoulders, then down to my breasts before she walks behind me.

Ugh, she has to be checking out my butt.

I force myself not to clench, although every muscle is on the verge of doing so. I can’t believe I’m being scrutinized this closely. These women are literally dissecting everything about my appearance and body. Meanwhile, I’m standing here in yesterday’s clothes feeling like a troll.

Miss Opal’s words ring in my mind. Barron and Holly need you for this project.

“Yes,” Camille says thoughtfully. She comes around on my left side. “Yes, with the right hairstyle and makeup, we can definitely make bold colors work.”

“Excellent.” Holly taps her fingertips together, practically beaming. She reaches out for my hand, checking my nails before releasing it. “We’ll have you do hair, nails, and makeup while you’re at the spa.”

What’s next? Will she ask to see my teeth?

“I’m not going to the spa.” I jab my fingers against my slacks. While I keep my nails short and clean, I rarely add color or do anything fancy. “That’s just Miss Opal.”

“You are now. I’ll take care of setting it up.” She picks up her phone, scrolling through contacts.

This is getting a little out of control. I have no idea what Holly knows about me, but clearly it’s not anywhere near reality. Maybe she thinks I have McClelland money, but I don’t. I step closer, trying to keep the conversation private.

“Holly, I can’t spend the day at the spa,” I admit quietly.

“Miss Opal will be there,” she points out reasonably. “Think of it as keeping her company.”

Concern shoots through me. That’s even worse. How am I supposed to explain the spa expenses to Miss Opal?

“What I mean is”—I roll my bottom lip—“I can’t afford to pay for a day at the spa.” I shake my head again. “And I can’t let Miss Opal pay for me either.”

I nearly fainted when I saw the bill the one time she had me go with her. I can’t imagine how much it would be here.

Holly’s expression changes, offering a sympathetic smile. “The spa day was my treat to Miss Opal. And, for you, it’s part of what we’re calling a mini makeover,” she finishes, her eyes sparkling again. “Our new model needs to be at her best.”

It doesn’t make me feel much better. Somehow, I know I’ll end up paying for it in the long run. Hopefully it won’t be something I regret.

“All right,” I concede, stepping aside to give Holly some space and resigning myself to being a part of her plan. I’m just doing what Miss Opal wants, I remind myself because the swarm of butterflies in my tummy is ready to overwhelm me.

“This is Holly Reed,” she says into the phone. “Who am I speaking to?” She nods as if the person can see her. “Wonderful. I need to schedule a complete spa treatment but need it before noon today.”

So, I guess I’m going to the spa.

As Holly waits, her gaze strays to the wall. She brings the phone to her chest and turns, wide-eyed, toward Camille. “Do we have a seamstress on board?”

“I’m not sure. You’d probably need to check with the laundry manager,” she suggests.

Holly turns back to the wall.

“Can you grab one of those?” She indicates the sheer white nighties up on display. “Make it two…three instead.”

“Certainly.”

Holly returns to her call as Camille gets to work on the request. “Make it happen,” she says with authority. “Just get creative with the explanation, and throw in a bonus if you have to. This is top priority.”

Top priority… No pressure. No pressure at all.

“Let me help you with those, Camille,” I offer, trying to make myself useful.

“Thank you.” She hands off the three black velvet-covered hangers. All three pieces combined don’t use as much material as the T-shirt I liked.

I clutch the scanty nightgowns to my chest. I guess actual clothes will have to wait until later, when I can find some time to myself.

“Perfect. We’re on our way,” Holly states, ending the call with an air of finality.