Page 27 of His By Contract
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute until her knuckles went white. Every instinct screamed at her to fight back, to unleash the acid burning on her tongue. The urge to throw her drink in Celeste’s perfect face pulsed with each heartbeat.
But this wasn’t just about her anymore. The crowd’s eyes raked over her, vultures picking at her bones, weighing her against their glittering expectations. One wrong move, one crack in her composure, and she’d prove them right. Worse, she’d embarrass Adrian.
Her nails dug crescents into her palm. The pain anchored her, kept her from lashing out as Celeste’s words echoed in her head.Opening her legs for an invitation.The crude insinuation made her stomach turn.
Georgia fought to keep her expression neutral, though her pulse hammered in her throat. She could almost taste the crowd’s satisfaction, their certainty that the upstart from nowhere would finally break.
This was their world, where status was currency and reputation could be destroyed with a well-placed whisper. And Celeste wielded that power like a blade, each word slicing deep to draw blood.
Georgia’s body tensed, muscles primed to strike. One cutting remark could silence their laughter. One moment of defiance to prove she wasn’t their puppet to play with.
But the consequences loomed larger than her pride. Adrian’s world had rules, and she’d learned the price of breaking them. Her fingers pressed harder into her palm as she prepared to swallow the humiliation, to endure their judgment in silence.
Movement stirred the air before she could speak, someone drawing near.
Adrian moved with the fluid grace of a predator, each step deliberate as he positioned himself between her and Celeste. The crowd’s whispers died, replaced by an expectant hush.
He never laid a hand on Georgia, never met her gaze. He didn’t have to. The air itself seemed to bend around him as he moved, marking his territory, bending reality to his will. The subtle tilt of his head, the loose set of his shoulders. Everything about him radiated absolute authority.
The watching crowd shifted, their expressions morphing from gleeful anticipation to careful neutrality. They recognized what this meant. Adrian wasn’t just interrupting a social spat—he was making a statement.
Georgia watched Celeste’s perfect smile crack at the edges. Something raw flickered beneath her polished exterior. Not just anger or embarrassment, but genuine hurt. The kind that spoke of expectations shattered, of assumed allegiances proved false.
“Celeste.” Adrian’s voice carried easily through the silence, smooth as aged whiskey, but twice as potent. “I’ve always admired how… desperately you cling to relevance. Thoughperhaps your energy would be better spent elsewhere than dissecting my wife’s past employment.”
The words sliced through the air with surgical cruelty. Celeste’s fingers whitened around her glass, her lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. The crowd leaned forward, scenting blood in the water.
“After all,” Adrian continued, his tone unchanged, but somehow more devastating, “we both know how quickly fortunes can change. Don’t we?”
Celeste’s throat worked, her composure slipping for just a moment. She looked ready to speak, to fight back, but something in Adrian’s expression made her reconsider. Instead, she took a careful sip of champagne, buying time to collect herself.
Georgia watched the exchange unfold, and that’s when she saw it. Not just the tension in Celeste’s jaw or the way her fingers trembled around the crystal stem of her glass. There was something deeper, raw and bleeding beneath her perfect facade.
The flicker of betrayal in those blue eyes struck Georgia like a physical blow. The personal sting that radiated from Celeste’s rigid posture told a story Georgia hadn’t known she was part of.
Understanding crashed over her like ice water. Adrian hadn’t chosen her randomly. He hadn’t picked her just because she was desperate or because she would accept his help. He’d married her to get out of a marriage his family had been orchestrating. One with Celeste.
Her stomach lurched. Every piece clicked into place with sickening clarity. Celeste’s vendetta against her since arriving back in her world hadn’t been random spite.
And Adrian? He’d seized the opportunity. What better way to reject his family’s plans than to marry the woman Celeste had tried to ruin? It was elegant in its cruelty; a perfect power play that wounded everyone who’d tried to control him.
The crystal chandeliers suddenly felt too bright, the air too thick. Georgia stood frozen between them—Adrian and Celeste—finally understanding her true role in their twisted game of power and revenge.
Georgia watched as Celeste’s features smoothed back into place, like water settling after a stone’s impact. But beneath that perfect surface, rage simmered in her gaze.
“How thoughtful of you to be so… protective, Adrian.” Celeste’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Then again, when one acquires something so easily broken, it only makes sense to keep it close. Fragile things tend to shatter when left unattended.”
“The only fragile thing here, Celeste, is your grasp on relevance.” Adrian’s voice sliced the thick air like a blade. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my wife and I have more pressing matters to attend to than your desperate attempts at attention.”
Georgia caught the tiny flinch that rippled across Celeste’s features, a crack in her armor that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Without another word, Celeste spun away, her silver gown whispering across the marble floor as she retreated to a nearby group of socialites.
From where Georgia stood, she could see the tension radiating through Celeste’s shoulders. Her movements were too precise, her laugh too bright as she inserted herself into their conversation.
Georgia recognized the signs of barely contained fury: shoulders too stiff, a smile stretched too tight. She’d worn that mask before, swallowing pride out of survival. But Celeste? Her posture reeked of someone unaccustomed to being put in her place. Someone who had never been denied what she wanted.
And yet, it wasn’t Celeste who held Georgia’s focus for long. It was Adrian—standing between them, his back to her, the sharp lines of his suit unmoving as he shielded her without a word. Her pulse quickened, not from fear this time, but from something far more dangerous.
He could have let her drown. Could have watched her fumble through Celeste’s perfectly aimed barbs, could have enjoyed the spectacle of her struggling to maintain composure. Instead, he’d stepped between them, taking the full force of the confrontation onto himself.
