Page 24 of His Obsession

“You think you have a right?” he asked softly, his voice laced with something dangerous. “That’s adorable,mo chroí. But let me remind you where you are. You’re here because someone tried to kill you, not because I enjoy your company.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he caught the flicker of hurt behind her defiance. “Oh, don’t worry, the feeling is mutual. I didn’t ask you to save me, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for this… this arrangement.”

Callum’s jaw ticked, the last word scraping against his temper like flint to steel. He set the glass down with a sharp click on the bar and stepped toward her, his movements deliberate.

“Careful, Isolde,” he warned, his voice a low growl. “You might not like where this conversation ends.”

Her chin tilted stubbornly upward as she held his gaze. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll have Walsh’s team see to my protection.”

A dark laugh escaped him, rough and bitter. “You think you can just decide to leave?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms, her breath coming faster. “I’ve put up with this long enough. I’m grateful you helped me, but I’m not your problem to solve. I don’t belong here, Callum, and you damn well know it.”

Callum stared at her, his mind a storm of irritation and something far more dangerous.Doesn’t belong here?The hell she didn’t. She belongedexactlywhere he put her—under hisprotection, in his care, in his bed, where no one else could touch her.

But instead of shouting, he let a cold, lethal calm settle over him. “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”

Isolde’s eyes flared and he thought she might throw something at him. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she snapped, turning on her heel. “I’m going to bed.”

“Do that,” he said flatly, though his gaze followed her until she disappeared up the stairs to her room.

As the sound of her door closing echoed through the penthouse, Callum exhaled sharply, his patience worn to shreds. He raked a hand through his hair and returned to the bar, pouring himself another drink before settling into the leather chair in front of the fire.

The whiskey burned less this time, but it didn’t quiet the storm inside him. Isolde was a complication he hadn’t seen coming—a fire he couldn’t extinguish no matter how hard he tried. When he’d told Con what was going on, the Devil of Galway had merely laughed, indicated his trust in Callum’s ability to handle it, and wished him well. Callum told himself it was about protecting Con’s interests, that keeping her close was the logical move, but logic didn’t explain the way she got under his skin. The way she invaded his dreams was further evidence she was his fated mate.

That was the last thing he needed. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

The flames crackled softly in the hearth, their glow dancing across the polished floors and illuminating the darker corners of the room. Callum leaned back in the chair, whiskey glass dangling from his fingers as he stared into the flames, trying to piece together his next move. Lynch was circling closer, Bradford was a thorn he’d yet to pluck, and now… Isolde.

The sound of breaking glass shattered his concentration.

9

CALLUM

Callum’s body tensed, every muscle coiling with instant readiness. He stood in one fluid motion, his senses sharp, his gaze darting toward the far end of the penthouse. The sound had come from the back.

Calm and deliberate, he strode to his desk, sliding open a drawer and retrieving the handgun he kept there. The familiar weight of the Glock settled into his palm as he checked the magazine and clicked it back into place.

His mind was already ahead of him, calculating possibilities. If Lynch’s men had found the penthouse, they’d underestimated him badly.

Callum slipped out of the office, moving silently up the stairs to Isolde’s room. He pocketed the gun before knocking once—sharp and firm.

“Isolde.”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he opened the door, finding her standing by the bed, barefoot and frowning. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

He cut her off, his tone calm but commanding. “We may have trouble. Lock the door behind me when I leave.”

Her face paled, but she straightened her spine. “What kind of trouble?”

“Not now.” He stepped farther into the room, his dark gaze pinning her in place. “Listen carefully. Lock the door. If anyone but me comes for you, you go to the back of the walk-in closet. There’s a hidden compartment in the wall. You’ll find the lever to get inside in the back, right corner. Once inside, close the door. It locks automatically. Get inside and don’t come out until I tell you.”

Her mouth opened in protest, but Callum wasn’t having it. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, his hands framing her face as he tilted her chin up sharply.

“You’re not arguing with me right now, Isolde,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You do exactly what I said. Do you understand me?”

Her lips parted, her breath catching at the dominance in his tone. “Callum, I?—”

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