Page 15 of His By Contract

She looked up, wary.

“If you’re going to insist on keeping your little workshop, at least ensure it remains contained to this corner. I won’t have thread and fabric scraps scattered throughout my home.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Georgia alone with her small victory and the unsettling feeling that she’d glimpsed something in Adrian Adler that few ever saw: a flicker of humanity beneath the ice.

CHAPTER 5

The message arrived through her phone’s screen, cold and impersonal. A charity gala. Tonight. Seven sharp.

Georgia’s stomach twisted as she read the details. No discussion. No consideration for her schedule or wishes. The words blurred together, but the meaning rang clear: she belonged wherever Adrian deemed necessary.

The closet door opened with a soft click. Inside, hanging separate from the rest, waited a gown of deep emerald silk. The fabric caught the light, shimmering like liquid money between her fingers. Every inch screamed wealth, status, possession.

Her throat tightened. The urge to grab one of her own designs rose fierce and hot in her chest. Something she created, something that belonged to her. The rack of her clothes hung just feet away, tempting her with the possibility of choice.

But the memory of Adrian’s hand around her wrist, his voice dropping to that dangerous whisper, stopped her cold. The heat had faded, but the lesson remained branded into her skin.

Georgia’s fingers clenched in the expensive silk, wrinkling the perfect fall of fabric. The material whispered as she slipped it on, each movement a surrender to his will. The zipper slid up smoothly, the fit immaculate as if the dress had been created from a mold of her body.

The mirror reflected back a stranger dressed in Adrian’s choices. The gown hugged every curve, the color making her skin glow. She looked expensive. Controlled. Perfect.

Anger burned low in her belly, a quiet flame that refused to die. But for now, she would wear his silk chains and play her part in his performance.

Georgia’s heels clicked against marble as Adrian guided her through the grand entrance of the Metropolitan. Crystal chandeliers dripped from coffered ceilings, their light fracturing across champagne flutes and diamond necklaces below. The crowd parted before them like water around a blade.

“Mrs. Adler.” A silver-haired man bowed his head, his smile never reaching his eyes. “What a… surprise to meet you at last.”

Georgia’s spine stiffened at the pause, at the way his gaze swept over her like she was a commodity being appraised. Adrian’s hand tightened on her waist, a silent command to perform.

“Mr. Sterling.” The name tasted like ash on her tongue. The same man who’d promised to destroy her career now smiled at her like they were old friends.

“I trust you’re adjusting well to married life?” Sterling’s words carried hidden thorns.

“Perfectly.” The lie slipped out smooth as silk. She’d learned the steps to this dance: smile, deflect, reveal nothing.

Around them, conversations dropped to whispers. Women in couture gowns huddled together, their judgment sharp as knives behind manicured hands. Men in tailored suits tracked Adrian’s movements, hungry for any sign of weakness they could exploit.

The air grew thick with perfume and power plays. Every handshake concealed a contract. Every laugh masked a threat. This wasn’t charity—it was warfare dressed in evening wear.

“Darling.” Adrian’s breath brushed her ear. “The governor’s wife would love to meet you.”

Georgia nodded, her mask firmly in place. But beneath the surface, beneath the emerald silk and perfect makeup, her heart hammered against her ribs. She was a chess piece in Adrian’s game, moved across the board at his will.

She caught her reflection in a passing mirror: poised, polished, proper. Everything they expected an Adler wife to be. Everything she’d never wanted to become.

Georgia shifted under the weight of their stares, each whisper cutting through the refined atmosphere like static. A cluster of women in designer gowns huddled near the champagne fountain, their lips curled in barely concealed disdain.

“I heard she was a seamstress.” The words floated across the marble floor. “Can you imagine?”

“Adrian Adler settling for someone so… common.” Another voice dripped with false sympathy.

The crystal flute trembled in Georgia’s grip. She steadied it, refusing to let them see her hands shake. The men around Adrian paid her no attention, their focus solely on his latestmarket predictions and strategic moves. She stood beside him like an ornament, present but irrelevant.

“Such a peculiar choice.” A woman in red silk gestured with her glass. “There must be something we’re missing.”

“Or someone made a desperate deal.” The responding laugh pierced through Georgia’s composure.

She turned away, seeking escape in the crowd, but the speculation followed. Each group she passed fell into hushed conversations, their eyes tracking her movement across the room. The weight of their judgment pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

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