Page 4 of His Temptation

Siobhan thought she turned her face just in time, the shutter sound sparking something instinctive and dangerous deep within her. She kept walking, the rush of conversation swallowing her whole, but dread settled at the base of her spine.

She had spent years erasing herself from the world.

And in a single careless moment, she might have been captured, anyway.

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of Siobhan’s Dublin flat, casting soft patterns across the oak floors. The city hummed beyond her windows, the distant sound oftraffic and early risers filling the air. In another life, she might have enjoyed the quiet moment, the illusion of normalcy.

Instead, she sat frozen at the small kitchen island, a cup of untouched coffee cooling beside her, her eyes locked onto the tablet screen in front of her.

The Dublin Society Gazette.

The headline was meaningless. Another charity gala, another list of names belonging to the elite who had attended, another glossy spread of carefully curated photographs. It was the image beneath the text that stole the breath from her lungs.

A powerful politician caught mid-conversation with his latest mistress, the focus of the shot crisp and clear. But it wasn’t them Siobhan cared about. It was the reflection in the massive, gilded mirror behind them—her reflection.

The emerald silk of her gown, the curve of her bare shoulder, the side of her face partially turned away from the camera—blurry but recognizable. Siobhan clenched her fingers around the tablet, pulse hammering in her throat.

How had she been so careless? She had mastered the art of slipping through the cracks, of moving unseen through places she shouldn’t have been. For years, she had erased herself from the world’s gaze, dismantling every trace of the woman she had once been. Now, because of one careless moment, one stroke of bad luck, everything was unraveling.

The screen blurred as she stared, the heat of unshed tears burning behind her eyes. It had been years since she cried.

Sebastian Wolfe read the society pages. She knew it as surely as she knew that the man was still hunting her, his obsession a sickness that had festered for years. MI5 would see it too—because if Sebastian had never truly let her go, neither had they.

A small part of her clung to hope, to reason. Maybe it wasn’t clear enough. Maybe no one would notice. Maybe she was onlypanicking because she had spent too long looking over her shoulder.

Then her phone buzzed. The burner, the one she used only when it was time to disappear.

No one had that number. No one should have that number.

A sharp knot formed in her stomach as she reached for the device.

One new message:You should have stayed dead.

Her skin turned ice cold. Sebastian had seen it. He had seen her. A strange stillness took hold of her as she stared at the words, her heartbeat slowing, her breath leveling. She knew what came next. The polite waiting years were over. There would be no more silence. No more shadows.

He was coming for her.

Her body moved before thought, before logic. The tablet clattered against the countertop as she shoved back her chair and strode to the hallway. She was already mentally cataloging the escape routes, the pre-packed bag stashed beneath the floorboards of her bedroom closet, the routes she had mapped years ago.

She could be gone within the hour. She could disappear again. But something deep inside her rebelled at the thought. For the first time in years, she had built something real. She had her gallery, her art, a life that she had carved out for herself from the wreckage of the past.

Running meant leaving it all behind.

Her grip tightened on the phone. For years, she had been waiting for this moment, waiting for the inevitable. Sebastian was a storm she had always known would come for her again. But this time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to run.

Siobhan forced herself to breathe, slow and controlled, as she moved through her flat. The urge to flee consumed her, but yearsof survival had taught her that panic caused the most dangerous mistakes.

Sebastian had seen the photo, of that much she was certain. And if he had, others had as well. MI5. The people who had once tried to lock her away, convinced she was more useful in a cage than free in the world. And then there was the O’Neill family.

She hadn’t crossed paths with them in years, but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe they had forgotten her. The criminal underworld never truly let go of anyone who had value. And once upon a time, she had been valuable to them.

Her mind worked quickly as she moved through the apartment, her bare feet soundless against the wood floors. A packed duffle sat beneath the loose floorboard in her closet—cash, IDs, burner phones, weapons. She had always known this moment would come.

Yet something about it felt different this time. She should have already been on her way out of the city. The sensible part of her knew that. But as she stepped into her bedroom, reaching for the bag, a shiver slid down her spine. A whisper of something dark and unseen. Someone was watching her.

She froze, every nerve in her body alive with warning. Her gaze flicked to the window. She had drawn the curtains, but that meant nothing. She had grown up trusting instincts most people ignored, and right now, hers were screaming.

She forced herself to move, slower this time, careful not to make a sound.

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