Page 26 of His Obsession

Isolde’s voice broke the silence, soft but resolute. “What’s happening? Who’s here?”

Callum didn’t answer immediately. He walked to his desk, pulling a hidden lever to slide open the bookshelf on the far wall, revealing the secure compartment that would keep her safe. “Get inside. Now.”

“Callum, talk to me,” she pressed, but her voice wavered slightly.

Before he could respond, a voice echoed from the living room beyond the door—a voice that turned his blood to ice.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in,Callum?”

Deirdre.

Callum went still, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He could feel Isolde’s confusion behind him as she whispered, “Who is that?”

He ignored her question, reaching into his jacket to pocket the Glock. “Stay here,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Don’t come out until I say.”

“Callum—”

“Now,Isolde,” he snapped, turning toward her with a look that silenced her protests. He pointed to the open compartment. “In. Now. If I don’t return in the next half hour, follow the passageway to the right. You’ll find a set of stairs. At the top is a landline. Pick it up, one of our men will answer and will arrange to get you to safety.”

“I’m not leaving you…”

“Yes, you are. If I don’t come back, then everything I’ve done to keep you safe will have been in vain. Promise me you’ll stay alive, and let my people take care of you.”

Reluctantly, she moved toward the hidden space, her gaze lingering on him for one final moment before disappearing inside. Callum slid the bookshelf closed.

He turned, his shoulders tight as he strode to the office door and yanked it open, his expression dark as a thundercloud.

Deirdre Lynch stood at the center of his living room, dressed in black, her red hair swept back like a flame. She looked every bit as dangerous as he remembered, her sharp smile laced with the kind of malice that had once thrilled him—and now repulsed him.

“Callum,” she purred, her voice soft but cutting. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re no friend of mine,” he bit out, his tone cold. “What the hell are you doing here, Deirdre?”

Her eyes gleamed, and she tilted her head slightly, as if assessing him. “I’m here to warn you.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “Warn me? You’ve got some nerve, sweetheart.”

Deirdre’s smile faltered. “This isn’t a game, Callum. Eoin knows about the Fitzwilliam girl. He knows she’s important to you. Bradford’s been feeding him information, and they’re planning something big. You think tonight was just a coincidence?”

Callum’s blood ran cold. “What do you know?”

Deirdre stepped closer, her expression serious now. “They’re coming for her. For the Foundation. Bradford wants to position himself as a law-and-order candidate in the next election. Eoin has convinced him they can dismantle the O’Neill organization by exposing their connection to the Foundation. Bradford is willing to do whatever it takes as long as he gets the credit.

“And Eoin?”

“He hates O’Neill. He hates you. He hates Fitzwilliam and if he can destroy the Foundation, he can take his revenge and have Bradford in his pocket. Eoin likes having councilmen in his pocket.”

His fists curled at his sides. “And why the hell should I trust you?”

Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else—regret, maybe. “Because as much as I hate you, I hate Eoin more.”

Callum didn’t speak for the space of a heartbeat, his mind spinning with the implications of her words. The danger was real—and it was closing in faster than he’d anticipated.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a slight movement by the office door. Isolde stood just inside, her eyes wide, her gaze darting between him and Deirdre.

Callum’s voice was a low growl as he turned back to Deirdre. “Get out.”

“Callum—”

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