Page 72 of His By Contract

Adrian’s eyes tracked her every movement: the tremor in her hands, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way she swayed slightly on her feet. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin, but he remained silent. Waiting.

Georgia pressed her palm flat against the wall, seeking something solid to anchor herself. But her mind spun faster, throwing up images of Theo’s face splashed across tabloids, reporters stalking his playground, cruel comments dissecting every detail of his young life. How could she shield him from that? What weapons did she have against a world that would tear apart a child just to sell papers?

Her knees buckled slightly, and she caught herself against an armchair. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision as panic clawed up her throat.

Adrian moved closer. His hand found her chin, fingers curling beneath it with a touch that commanded her full attention. Thepressure wasn’t painful, just enough to ground her, to drag her mind back from the edge of panic. Her pulse thrummed against his palm as he tilted her face up.

His eyes captured hers, intense and unwavering. The blue had darkened to bright steel, holding the same dangerous gleam she’d seen when he crushed his business rival. Heat radiated from his body, wrapping around her like a shield.

“Listen carefully.” His voice dropped low, each word striking like a blade against stone. “In fifteen years, I’ve never lost a fight. Not one.” His thumb traced along her jaw, the gesture possessive. “Every person who’s tried to take what’s mine has learned exactly why that is.”

The raw power in his voice sent shivers down her spine, but it wasn’t fear that made her heart race. It was the absolute certainty in his tone, the unshakeable confidence that radiated from him.

“I protect what’s mine.” His fingers tightened fractionally. “You and Theo are my family. Anyone who dares touch you will wish they’d never heard the name Adler.”

Georgia swallowed hard, her pulse thundering beneath Adrian’s touch. His words vibrated through her, each syllable laced with the same ruthless power that had built his empire. She’d seen that look before, watched him demolish anyone who threatened what he considered his. The thought should have terrified her, but instead warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading through her limbs like honey.

His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, the touch both possessive and grounding. The panic that had threatened to drown her moments ago receded under the weight of his certainty. Adrianhad never been a man who made empty promises or hollow threats. When he spoke of protection, she knew he meant complete and total devastation for anyone who dared cross that line.

“I—” The word caught in her throat as his fingers tightened fractionally.

“No one touches what’s mine.” His voice dropped lower, rough with conviction. “Not the media. Not my enemies. No one.”

A shiver raced down her spine, heat pooling low in her belly. The raw dominance in his tone pulled at something primal inside her, drawing her closer despite herself. He surrounded her completely, his spiced cologne wrapping her in warmth, his body’s heat seeping into her skin, his dark eyes pinning her in place until she could barely breathe.

Georgia drew in a slow breath, letting it out carefully. The frantic edge of fear dulled, replaced by something steadier. Adrian’s certainty wrapped around her like armor, and for the first time since she’d fled three years ago, she felt the ground solid beneath her feet.

His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Georgia leaned into the touch, allowing herself to accept the protection he offered. The thought of facing the media still scared her, but with Adrian’s strength behind them, maybe they stood a chance. Maybe they could weather this storm together.

Georgia’s fingers curled against the polished mahogany of the conference table. The pristine office stretched around her, allglass and chrome, but the air felt thick with unspoken tension. Beside her, Adrian loomed like a storm cloud, his shoulders squared with that familiar authority she remembered from board meetings years ago.

Sarah Murphy, head of PR, stood at the front of the room, her tailored blazer crisp despite the early hour. “The situation is developing rapidly.” She gestured to the wall of screens behind her. “These posts started circulating last night.”

Georgia’s throat tightened as images filled the displays. Photos of her and Theo at the grocery store near her mother’s house. Blurry shots through windows. Each one felt like an invasion, a violation of the careful bubble she’d built around her son.

“The old allegations are resurfacing.” Sarah’s voice carried a clipped edge. “Questions about the nature of your marriage. Implications about affairs. And now—” She paused, jaw tight. “Speculation about Theo’s paternity.”

Adrian shifted beside Georgia, the movement subtle, but charged with energy. His focus remained razor-sharp on the presentation, but she felt the coiled tension in him, like a predator preparing to strike.

The team moved with efficiency, laptops humming as they pulled up statistics and media tracking data. Papers shuffled, phones buzzed with updates, creating a symphony of controlled chaos. These people had handled countless PR storms, but Georgia sensed something different in their careful movements, their sidelong looks at Adrian.

“We’ve prepared a comprehensive strategy.” Sarah’s fingers flew across her tablet. “First, we position this as Adrian bringinghis family home. A personal choice, made from strength, not scandal.”

Georgia watched the team nod in agreement, their expressions carefully neutral as they took notes. The weight of their scrutiny pressed against her skin.

“We’ll highlight Georgia’s role as a mother,” Sarah continued. “Her dedication to her child, her strength in difficult circumstances. This narrative resonates with our key demographics.”

A young man with wire-rimmed glasses spoke up. “The paternity question needs direct addressing. Clear language, no room for interpretation. We state explicitly that Theo is Adrian’s son.”

Georgia’s chest tightened at the clinical way they discussed her child, reducing him to bullet points and media strategies. But she recognized the necessity, the shield they were trying to build around him.

Sarah’s expression hardened slightly. “Finally, we’ll implement subtle messaging about the source of past rumors. Without naming names, we’ll indicate certain parties acted from personal agendas and jealousy.”

The implied reference to Vincent hung in the air. Adrian remained still, but Georgia felt the shift in his energy, the dangerous edge that crept into his silence as he processed their strategy.

Georgia’s stomach twisted as she watched her life being dissected on the screens before her. Each photo felt like a violation, strangers capturing moments she thought were private, safe. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she kept her face neutral, years of practice helping her maintain composure.She glanced at Adrian, seeking something solid to anchor herself to in this storm.

Adrian’s voice cut through the tension, low and controlled. “The plan works,” he says, his gaze sweeping over the team. “But understand this—Theo stays protected. Any mistake that puts him at risk, and you’ll answer to me.”

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