Page 17 of His Obsession

Later that evening, the rain continued to batter the windows with relentless fury, each drop a staccato drumbeat against the glass that mirrored the chaos in Callum’s mind. He stood in his office, leaning heavily on the edges of the massive oak desk, hisfingers curling around its worn edges. The wood creaked under the pressure, as if it, too, could sense the storm brewing inside him.

The report Padraig had delivered lay open before him, its contents a brutal reality check. Deirdre Lynch’s betrayal wasn’t surprising, but it complicated everything. Her alliance with Councilman Bradford, his boss’ dangerous rival and Deidre’s husband, Eoin Lynch, and her willingness to use the Fitzwilliam Foundation as leverage—it was a powder keg waiting to explode.

And Isolde was right in the center of it.

His jaw muscles clenched as he ground his teeth. Every instinct told him to focus solely on protecting the O’Neill organization. Con’s empire was his life’s work, a legacy he’d fought to secure and expand, and it was his responsibility to safeguard it at all costs.

But then there was her.

Her fire. Her defiance. The way she looked at him with those amber eyes that held equal measures of challenge and vulnerability. Isolde Fitzwilliam had become more than a complication, more than a liability. She’d become a choice he didn’t want to make.

Protecting Isolde meant putting her closer to the line of fire, tying her more firmly to him and his world. Yet if he left her vulnerable, if he didn’t keep her under his control, Lynch or Bradford—or both—would use her as a pawn.

He wasn’t about to let that happen.

The door creaked open, and Padraig stepped inside, his sharp eyes taking in Callum’s tense posture. “You back again?” snarled Callum.

“Well, I do have other things to do than to watch you swoon over your obsession.”

“She’s not my obsession,” he snapped.

“Oh sure, she isn’t,” laughed Padraig.

“Knock it off and tell me why you are here,” Callum replied flatly, not looking up.

Padraig approached cautiously, a man who recognized the magnitude of the approaching storm. “I’ve run a deeper trace on Bradford’s connections. He’s building his case on three angles: political posturing, public outcry over supposed charity fraud, and some whispers about wanting a private revenge for an O’Neill-connected death in his family. He’s not bluffing. If we don’t stop him soon, he’ll make it all public.”

Callum straightened, his dark eyes locking onto Padraig with predatory intensity. “We can’t let it go that far.”

“We won’t,” Padraig assured him. “But Deirdre’s involvement adds a wild card. She’s not just feeding Bradford information—she’s amplifying it. If she makes this personal, there’s no telling how far she’ll go.”

Callum’s lips curved into a cold, humorless smile. “She always did enjoy stirring the pot. She’ll do anything to settle old scores.”

Padraig tilted his head. “The real question is, what are you going to do about the Fitzwilliam girl? She’s the key to Bradford’s leverage. She might not know it yet, but she’s sitting on a ticking bomb.”

Callum crossed his arms, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the desk as he considered Padraig’s words. “She’s under my protection.”

Padraig raised an eyebrow. “And the organization? You’re not seriously considering prioritizing her over Con’s empire, are you?”

Callum’s glare was icy. “I’m considering the fact that protecting her might be the best way to protect the organization. If we lose her—and the foundation—we hand Bradford and Lynch exactly what they need to dismantle everything we’ve built here in Dublin.”

Padraig hesitated, then nodded. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“One I don’t intend to lose,” Callum said simply, his voice a low growl.

The rain outside intensified, the rhythmic pounding against the windows like war drums. Callum moved to the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the storm-lit city. He could see the faint glow of the Fitzwilliam Foundation’s building in the distance, a beacon in the night that felt more fragile than ever.

He could feel the gravity of the decision pressing down on him. If he focused solely on the O’Neill organization, Isolde might become collateral damage. But if he poured too many resources into protecting her, he risked leaving Con’s empire vulnerable.

Unless…

His mind sharpened, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Protecting Isolde and protecting the organization weren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, if he played it right, securing her might be the most effective way to secure everything else.

He turned back to Padraig, his voice calm but firm. “Double the surveillance on Isolde. I want her watched at all times—at home, at the foundation, everywhere. Lynch won’t get near her without me knowing.”

Padraig nodded. “And Bradford?”

Callum’s smile was dark, his eyes gleaming with purpose. “We’ll deal with him. Quietly. I want every bit of leverage we can find on him, and I want it fast.”

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