Page 28 of His Obsession

His jaw ticked. “No one you need to worry about.”

“That’s not good enough!”

Callum’s gaze cut to her, the sheer intensity he found there stealing the air from his lungs. “It’ll have to be,” he said.

The SUV took a sharp turn onto a narrow road, rainwater splashing up like waves from the tires. Beyond the city, the streets stretched into darkness flanked by tall hedges and the distant silhouettes of trees. Isolde’s pulse pounded harder as she realized they weren’t heading for her home. They were leaving the city entirely.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Someplace safer,” Callum said, and that was all.

Callum backed his foot off the accelerator as he approached a massive set of iron gates looming ahead, their wrought-iron spires rising like the teeth of a beast. Isolde opened her mouth to tell him to stop—surely they couldn’t just barge in—but the gates creaked, splitting open as if they’d been expecting him.

“What is this place?” she breathed, craning her neck to see the sprawling neighborhood beyond the gates.

“Private,” was all Callum offered as he pressed down on the accelerator again, speeding through winding lanes that curved like serpents between massive estates. Through the sheets of rain, Isolde caught glimpses of sprawling lawns, hedges manicured to perfection, and stone mansions that seemed to loom in the shadows like sentinels.

As they approached a second set of gates—these even taller and heavier than the first—Isolde’s hands curled into fists.He’s not going to stop.

“Callum—”

Before she could finish, the gates swung open, and the SUV shot through. The driveway ahead was long and sweeping, flanked by rows of massive trees that swayed violently in the wind. At the end of the lane, an imposing mansion came into view—a monolith of stone and glass, its wide windows glowing faintly with light.

Callum drove straight up to the entrance, the SUV skidding to a halt in the circular drive.

All Isolde could hear was the hammering of her heart and the steady rhythm of the rain. She turned to Callum, her mouth opening to demand an explanation—but before she could speak, movement caught her eye.

The house was surrounded.

Armed men emerged from the shadows, their weapons held close to their chests, their eyes scanning the area with ruthless efficiency. One of them approached Callum’s door and knocked twice.

Callum didn’t flinch. He turned to Isolde, his expression unreadable. “Stay close to me. Don’t say a word unless I tell you to.”

Her chest tightened as he stepped out into the rain, walking around to open her door. The storm swallowed her whole as she stepped out, her coat plastered to her skin. Callum’s hand came to rest on the small of her back, steady and possessive, as he guided her toward the house.

“What is this place?” she asked again, her voice all but drowned out by the downpour.

“Sanctuary,” he said simply.

The men parted as they approached the massive double doors. One of them nodded to Callum, his voice barely audible over the storm. “All clear, sir.”

Callum didn’t respond. He pushed the doors open, ushering Isolde inside.

The mansion’s interior was even more intimidating than the exterior—polished marble floors gleamed beneath chandeliers, and wide staircases stretched up toward shadowed halls. Isolde turned to Callum, shivering slightly as she hugged her coat tighter around herself. He halted their progression as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What is thisreally?” she demanded. “Why are there men with guns outside? Who are you calling, Callum? Who are you hiding me from?”

Callum turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. The storm outside had followed him in—it radiated from him, alive and crackling. “You’ll get answers when it’s safe,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Until then, you listen to me. You stay close, and you don’t argue.”

Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breath, frustration warring with fear. “And if I don’t?”

Callum stepped closer, his gaze dropping to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Then I’ll make you.”

He removed her coat and handed her a towel with which she could dry. He led her into an enormous sitting room with a roaring fire and had her sit on a lovely Chesterfield couch.

Her pulse leapt at his words, at the absolute certainty in them. She should have been furious—outraged at his arrogance—but instead, all she could feel was the heat rolling off him, the storm between them building until it threatened to consume her. There was something about the way he looked at her that sent a thrill through her system. And although she would never admit it, every time he threatened to spank her, she could feel the words in her pussy.

She’d seen the couples in Baker Street who didn’t just play at the D/s lifestyle but lived it. At first, she’d found the idea of submitting to any man abhorrent, but the more she visited Baker Street and got to know the submissives there, the more shelonged to find a dominant man to whom she could truly submit. The strength of the women she’d met—JJ, Olivia, Rhiannon, and the rest—had made her re-evaluate her ideas around dominance and submission.

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