Page 35 of His By Contract

She wasn’t fighting against his control anymore. She was inviting it, challenging him to prove just how complete his dominance could be.

Because when Adrian looked at her, really looked at her, she felt stripped bare. Not just of clothes or pretense, but of every wall she’d built to protect herself. His attention cut through her defenses like a blade, leaving her exposed and electric with awareness.

The penthouse remained silent. No footsteps approached her door. He was letting her stew in the consequences of her choice, letting anticipation build until it hummed beneath her skin.

Adrian wasn’t waiting for her surrender; he was waiting for her rebellion. Because that was when he got to remind her exactly who was in control.

CHAPTER 11

Morning sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden stripes across Georgia’s silk sheets. She blinked awake, taking in the panoramic view of the city spread beneath her like a glittering carpet. The sight still caught her off guard some mornings, this penthouse perch so far removed from her old apartment with its creaky radiator and water-stained ceiling.

Her bare feet padded across cool marble as she made her way toward the kitchen. The thought of coffee pulled her forward until Adrian’s voice sliced through the quiet morning air.

Georgia froze outside his study door. It stood slightly open, offering a view of Adrian’s tall frame by the window. His shoulders formed a rigid line under his tailored shirt as he spoke into his phone.

“That information was secured. Find out who leaked it.” His voice carried that deadly calm that made her skin prickle. It wasn’t panic—Adrian Adler didn’t panic—but something darker lurked beneath his controlled tone.

The blue glow from his tablet caught her attention. Headlines flashed across the screen as he swiped:

Adler Capital Under Scrutiny

Her breath caught. Another swipe.

Whispers of Instability Inside One of the Industry’s Titans

Georgia’s fingers curled against the doorframe as she leaned closer.

Anonymous Sources Reveal Internal Financial Discrepancies

Adrian’s hand tightened on the phone. “I want names. Now.” The command cracked like a whip through the morning quiet.

That afternoon, after coming back from the gym, Georgia sat curled in the leather armchair, the vast sitting room’s emptiness settling over her shoulders like a heavy cloak. The sun carved harsh angles across the marble floor, its light somehow managing to feel both brilliant and cold.

The abandoned newspaper caught her eye, carelessly left on the glass coffee table. The headline hit her first:Adler Empire Shows Cracks. But it was the photograph beneath that made her lungs seize. There she stood, caught in profile beside Adrian as they descended the steps of some charity event. Her face held a careful blankness she didn’t remember crafting, though she recognized the dress, a deep burgundy velvet that had felt like armor that night.

The article sprawled beneath, peppered with words that made her stomach twist: ‘mysterious marriage,’ ‘sudden union,’ ‘questions arise.’ The photo seemed to mock her, that careful mask she wore now preserved in stark black and white for everyone to dissect.

Blood rushed in her ears as her eyes traced the curve of Adrian’s hand at her waist in the image. Even frozen on paper, his touch looked like ownership.

Georgia’s eyes burned as she read further down the article. Each paragraph painted her as some tragic figure, the struggling designer who sold herself to a billionaire. They’d dug up every scrap of her past: her mother’s illness, her near-bankruptcy, the night Celeste Montgomery had destroyed her reputation. But they twisted it all, reshaping her story into something unrecognizable.

“Sources close to the couple suggest the marriage was orchestrated to distract from growing concerns about Adler Capital’s stability,” the article read. “The young designer’s sudden elevation to Mrs. Adler raises questions about the true nature of their relationship.”

Her stomach churned. They’d reduced her to a prop in Adrian’s game, as if she held no power of her own, as if her talent meant nothing.

This wasn’t just about Adrian. They’d dragged her into the spotlight, dissecting her life like vultures. Her name, her image, everything she’d built, they painted it all as worthless without Adrian’s influence.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as realization struck. The timing, the specific details about her past, the careful way they’dwoven doubt through every line, had Vaughn’s fingerprints all over it. He hadn’t waited for her answer. He’d already decided to use her story as ammunition.

The bastard had made her choice for her.

Georgia’s fingers clenched around the paper, her knuckles white with barely contained fury. She felt exposed, stripped bare for public consumption. Every careful step she’d taken to maintain some control over her narrative had been erased with a few calculated paragraphs.

The article mocked her from the coffee table, each word a calculated strike. She’d been here before, standing in that ballroom as wine dripped down Celeste’s dress, watching her career crumble. But this time felt different. This time, someone else had written her story without her permission.

Her chest tightened as she rose from the chair.

She paused at the window, staring at her reflection in the glass. The woman who looked back wasn’t the same one who’d signed Adrian’s contract. That Georgia had been desperate, cornered. This Georgia had learned to navigate Adrian’s world, to find strength in its shadows.

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