Page 18 of Dark Succession (The O’Malleys #1)
C allie woke up wrapped in Teague’s arms. She blinked at the faint morning light steaming through the windows, the disorientation of not being in her own bed making her frown before the events of the night before came rushing back.
She relaxed, inhaling the spicy male scent that seemed to permeate the space around her.
It was tempting to close her eyes and move closer to the man now nuzzling the back of her neck, but she’d already been gone from home too long.
The responsibility settling around her shoulders seemed to get heavier each time she picked it up. Instead of this reprieve lightening the load, it had actually added to her worries.
Because she liked Teague.
He wasn’t like any man she’d known before—something that was becoming clearer and clearer the more time she spent with him.
He treated her like a woman of worth, which shouldn’t be so startling.
But it was. She slipped out of his arms, holding her breath until she was sure he hadn’t woken.
She dressed quickly, her gaze darting back to the man sprawled across the bed.
The features that had seemed so harsh and unforgiving when she first met him turned into something else entirely when relaxed in sleep. He was almost… beautiful.
Or perhaps she was becoming biased because her body came alive when he touched her.
Callie slipped out the door, pausing to make sure it was locked behind her, and hurried to her car.
The entire drive home, her mind kept helpfully replaying everything they’d done last night.
The man held her like he actually cared, which was preposterous considering how short of a time they’d known each other.
It dawned on her that maybe she wasn’t the only one with growing emotional attachment.
No. I can’t afford to lose focus—especially right now .
The words did nothing to reassure her. Because she’d barely been out of his presence for twenty minutes and she was already craving him again.
The reckless impulse to turn around and drive back to his place rose so intensely, she actually reached for her blinker before she stopped herself.
The real world wouldn’t wait, and the longer she hid, the worse it would be when she came home.
And if she never came home?
She shut the thought down before it could take root.
She couldn’t walk away from the Sheridan empire, even if she were so inclined—and she wasn’t.
She was the heir, which meant she was responsible for ensuring the safety of her people and the ongoing lucrative income of their various businesses.
She was the one who would bring them into the legal side of things and remove as much danger as possible from their lives.
If she could get all of their front businesses running as well as Moira’s, they wouldn’t need the money generated by the illegal side of things.
If she disappeared, things would fall apart when her father died. The generals would fight among themselves, and the clawing and battling for power would destroy what was left of their people.
She couldn’t let that happen.
No, her fantasies about holing up with Teague until this nightmare passed were just that—fantasy. She’d already been too lax in letting Papa keep her out of things, no matter if he wanted to protect her or if he had other reasons altogether. Whatever his thinking, it had to stop.
She parked the car in the garage and strode into the house.
Her footsteps echoed on the tile, the click of her heels standing out in the silence.
At this hour there should be people around.
It was Friday, which meant the cleaning ladies, at least, should be here for their weekly tidy up.
Callie headed for her father’s office—the one place there was guaranteed to be some sort of activity—and knocked.
“Come in.”
A part of her that she hadn’t even realized was tense relaxed at the sound of Papa’s voice. Nothing was wrong. There hadn’t been an attack of some sort on the house. They were safe. For now.
She slipped into the office and shut the door.
She took a deep breath, deciding it’d be best to get straight to the point.
“Papa, no more shutting me out. If you expect me to stand as heir, you need to let me be part of making the decisions.” He had to know the days of trying to protect her had passed.
It was time for her to step up and deal with the consequences, one way or another, and take an active role in this mess.
It was her fault, after all.
A throat clearing brought her up short. She turned around to find that her father wasn’t the only one in the room.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were Micah, or even John, but she didn’t immediately recognize the two women standing by the bookshelves that lined the wall on either side of the door.
She attempted a smile. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you had company. ”
“I don’t. You do.” He motioned at the older of the two, a woman who could have been anywhere between thirtyfive and fifty-five, though the self-assured way she carried herself made Callie think she fell somewhere on the older end of the spectrum.
Her long dark hair didn’t have so much as a hint of gray, but there were faint crow’s-feet fanning out from her green eyes when she smiled.
“Callista, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
Again?
Things fell into place, and the reason the woman looked so familiar became clear. “Mrs. O’Malley.” Teague’s mother.
Which made the other woman—a younger version of her mother, right down to the green eyes—one of Teague’s sisters.
“Oh, no, please call me Aileen. We’re about to be family.” She sailed over and enveloped Callie in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. Her warmth would be significantly more convincing if her daughter didn’t look so shocked by it before she wiped the expression off her face .
Good to know .
She pasted a bright smile on her face. “Of course.” But why were they here? It was poor timing, to say the least, especially with Papa looking like he wanted nothing more than to boot the entire lot of them out of his office.
Aileen must have caught her look. “Carrigan and I are here to help with wedding planning.”
She blinked, the words forming and reforming in her mind as she tried to make sense of them. Wedding planning. They were on the brink of war and these women wanted to drag her off for wedding planning ? She shot a look in her father’s direction. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Of course. Your wedding is less than four weeks away.” Aileen’s sharp look at Papa was enough to tell everyone in the room what she thought of the accelerated timeline. “I’d be a poor mother if I didn’t ensure that the first of my brood to marry had the wedding of his dreams.”
Considering she knew Teague hadn’t chosen this wedding any more than she had—and they were on the verge of all-out war—the statement bordered on preposterous. “Perhaps we can reschedule? I have a meeting with my father—”
“Your father has assured me that you have no plans for the day. Carrigan, why don’t you help Callista pick out something a bit more appropriate to wear while I discuss the budget with Colm?”
Which was how Callie found herself being escorted out of her father’s office and getting the door slammed in her face. She glared at the heavy wood for a long moment before remembering that she wasn’t alone in the hall. “Is your mother always so…?”
“She gets what she wants, when she wants it. Even our father doesn’t cross her.” Carrigan shrugged. “You can try to get out of what she has planned today, but I wouldn’t bet against her.”
Frustration threatened to choke her. There were so many more important things to be worried about right now.
War. Threats from the Hallorans. The future of the Sheridans with her at the helm.
The wedding didn’t even place top ten. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds and then releasing it.
The frustration didn’t disappear, but it was manageable now.
She knew better than to fight battles she wouldn’t win, and she definitely didn’t want to cause any tension with the O’Malleys.
It was more than potentially alienating a future mother-in-law.
They were allies against the Hallorans and any other threat that arose—allies that, frankly, Callie’s people needed.
Which meant she had to spend today doing mindless errands like picking out flowers and deciding on catering.
She opened her eyes to find Carrigan watching her closely.
The woman was as beautiful as her mother—possibly even more so.
She had the kind of flawless bone structure that would last through the years, her softness burning away to leave only steel in its wake.
Callie recognized it because her mother had had the same thing.
She’d like to think she did as well, but she was hardly unbiased.
“I need twenty minutes.” It would be cutting it close, but she refused to leave the house without at least a shower.
Especially since she swore she could smell Teague on her skin .
“I’ll stall her, but you should hurry.”
She hurried.
Twenty-two minutes later, she was back downstairs, showered and dressed in a pair of slacks and a silk shirt. Aileen swept a quick look over her. “You’ll do.”
Callie tamped down on her irritation. She’d dealt with women like Aileen O’Malley before, though most of them didn’t actually have the power they seemed to think they possessed. Aileen actually did.