Page 30 of His Obsession

Isolde froze, her breath catching in her throat. Light danced across his features, throwing shadows over the sharp lines of hisjaw and the dark scruff dusting his skin. His gaze pinned her to the couch, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away.

The room crackled with something she didn’t want to name. Something dangerous and hot and far too consuming.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Callum’s gaze tracked the movement, his eyes darkening.

“You’re scaring me,” she said finally, though her voice wavered for a different reason entirely.

Callum’s expression shifted, softening just a fraction as he stepped closer to the couch. “Good,” he murmured. “If you’re scared, maybe you’ll listen to me.”

“I’m not some puppet you can control,” she shot back, lifting her chin stubbornly.

“No,” he said quietly, his gaze locked on hers as he loomed over her. “You’re not. But youaremine to protect.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver racing through her, her body betraying her again with that unwanted, traitorous heat.

She pressed back against the couch, trying to ignore the way his nearness made her pulse flutter. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

Callum smiled faintly, though the darkness in his eyes didn’t waver. “Try me.”

Neither of them moved as the atmosphere between them grew heavy, cloying and almost suffocating. Finally, Callum let out a slow breath and ran a hand down his face. “I need you to trust me, Isolde.”

She blinked, surprised by the rough honesty in his tone. “Trust you? You’ve kidnapped me, locked me in your house, and dragged me into some criminal nightmare?—”

“No, you stumbled into that when you witnessed the murder at the gala.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about that in the news?”

“Because the cops are smart enough to keep their noses out of things that don’t concern them.”

“Murder doesn’t concern them?”

“Some murders do, and some don’t. Keep in mind, I saved your life,” he answered, his voice a low, gravelly promise.

Her throat tightened as she looked up at him. “Why?” she whispered.

Callum didn’t answer immediately. Then he crouched down in front of her, his broad hands resting on his knees as he looked her dead in the eyes. “Because losing you isn’t an option,mo chroí. Whether you like it or not, you’re under my protection now. And I don’t fail.”

Her chest rose and fell with her uneven breath, her heart hammering at the intensity in his voice. He wasn’t just speaking words—he was making a promise, one carved in stone.

Before she could respond, his phone buzzed again. Callum stood, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer before he answered it, turning away as he walked toward the windows.

Isolde stayed where she was, watching him as he spoke, his voice low and controlled. The predator was back, pacing slowly, his hand curled into a fist at his side as he listened to whoever was on the other end.

What have I gotten myself into?

11

ISOLDE

But even as fear gripped her chest, her gaze stayed fixed on him—on the dangerous man who’d turned her world upside down.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow flickering over the luxurious sitting room. Isolde sat perched on the edge of the couch, her spine stiff and her hands clenched together as she glared at Callum. He loomed nearby, one broad shoulder leaning against the mantle, his gaze pinned to her like a predator studying its prey.

“You’re impossible,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut. “You have no right—no right—to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Callum tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that infuriating, arrogant smile. “I don’t need a right, Isolde. I have a responsibility.”

“A responsibility?” she shot back, rising to her feet. Anger bubbled in her chest, hot and uncontrollable. “To who? To me? I never asked for this, Callum. I never asked foryou.”

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