Page 7 of His Obsession

Isolde bristled, her eyes narrowing. “Are you suggesting the foundation would mismanage them?”

“Not at all,” he said smoothly, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees. The movement drew him closer, close enough that she caught the faint scent of cedarwood and smoke. His voice dropped, low and intimate. “I’m simply reminding you that trust is earned, not given.”

The sound of her assistant’s heels clicking down the hallway outside echoed through the office, each sharp tap a counterpoint to the erratic rhythm of her pulse. She focused on the noise, willing herself to find some semblance of control.

“You’ve made your point, Mr. Kavanagh,” she said, her voice clipped as she tried to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “The funds are secure, and you can rest assured they’ll be put to good use.”

He leaned back again, his eyes never leaving hers, the weight of his gaze as tangible as a hand on her skin. “Good use, indeed. But let’s not pretend you don’t understand why I’m here, Isolde.”

Her breath caught at the way he said her name—low, deliberate, like a caress. She tightened her grip on the file in front of her, as if it could serve as a barrier between them.

“I don’t see the purpose of continuing this conversation,” she said firmly, though her voice lacked the force she intended.

Callum tilted his head, the predatory gleam in his eyes intensifying. “The purpose, Ms. Fitzwilliam, is to establish a relationship. My employer isn’t just making a larger than normal donation. This is an investment. And investments require… oversight.”

Her cheeks flushed, a mix of anger and something she couldn’t name simmering beneath the surface. “The foundation doesn’t answer to private donors, no matter how large the contribution. We remain autonomous.”

“Autonomy,” he mused, his tone laced with mockery. “An admirable principle. But principles are expensive, aren’t they? And I’d wager that your foundation could do a hell of a lot more with continued support from the O’Neill organization. Or am I wrong?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn’t wrong, and she was sure he knew it. The donation was a lifeline, and the prospect of future contributions was impossible to ignore.

Her silence must have spoken volumes because his smile deepened, his confidence pressing against her like a physical weight. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

The sound of her assistant moving further away left the office cloaked in an oppressive silence. Isolde felt the walls closing in, as if Callum’s presence consumed every inch of the room.

“I still don’t see why this required a private meeting,” she said, her voice quieter now, betraying the cracks in her resolve.

His gaze flicked to her hands, still clutching the file, then back to her face. “Because it’s easier to talk freely when we’re not surrounded by watchful eyes. You don’t strike me as the type who likes being backed into a corner, Isolde. But here we are.”

Her skin prickled under his scrutiny, heat pooling low in her belly despite the fear she couldn’t entirely shake. She hated how he unraveled her so easily, how the lines between defiance and something darker blurred in his presence.

“Mr. Kavanagh,” she began, her tone icy in an effort to mask her unease, “I’d appreciate it if you kept our interactions strictly professional from now on. There’s no need for?—”

“For what?” he interrupted, his voice silken. “Private meetings? Direct conversations? Or are you more concerned about the feeling between us in this room?”

Her cheeks burned, and her eyes flashed. “There is no feeling between us, in this or any other room. There is only your unwelcome presence.”

His laughter was low and intimate, curling around her like smoke. “Unwelcome, is it? Tell me, love, is that why your breath hitches every time I get close? Or why your skin flushes when I look at you?”

He crossed the room, sliding a file across the desk toward her, his fingers brushing hers briefly. The contact was electric, sending a sharp jolt up her arm that made her breath hitch. Isolde tried to ignore the reaction, but it was impossible not to feel the gravity of his touch—solid, deliberate, and far too intimate.

She pulled her hand back quickly, clutching the file like a lifeline. “I will not allow a repeat of last night,” she said sharply, keeping her voice firm as she met his gaze.

Callum’s grin widened, and he leaned slightly closer, the predator in him clearly enjoying her discomfort. “I agree,” he murmured, his voice low and dark, like a storm rolling in. “Next time, you won’t be running out on me, leaving me with no relief. If you strike me again, love, I’ll put you over my knee for what I suspect is some much-needed discipline. And once I’m done with that…” His eyes flicked to her mouth, his gaze darkening.“…we’ll find something better to do with that sharp tongue of yours. Something that’ll leave you much more agreeable.”

Her stomach flipped at the quiet, confident threat, a mix of shock and anger flaring in her chest. She shot up from her chair, the legs scraping against the floor as she moved to put some distance between them.

“You are insufferable,” she hissed, her cheeks flaming. “Do you really think I’d let you?—”

“Let me?” he interrupted, his smile giving way to something sharper, more dangerous. “That’s cute, Isolde. But let’s not pretend you didn’t enjoy last night—at least the parts that you allowed yourself to. You remember how my hand felt on you, don’t you? How my body pressed against yours.”

Her throat tightened, and she cursed inwardly at the memories his words conjured. She had been trying to forget—the heat of his hand on her ass, the hard line of his body against hers—but now the sensations flooded back, vivid and unavoidable.

“You’re delusional,” she snapped, gripping the edge of her desk to steady herself.

“Am I?” Callum said smoothly, stepping around the desk and closing the distance between them. She stiffened but held her ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her retreat.

Her heart raced as he leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek, warm and teasing. “Tell me, love, why are you blushing?”

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