Worship Him

18. Adam

18

ADAM

I wake to an empty bed, the sheets still warm. I sit up, running a hand through my hair. The house is quiet. Too quiet.

"Destiny?" I call out, my voice echoing through the halls.

No answer.

I throw on a pair of sweatpants and stride out of the bedroom. The nursery is empty, Avery's crib untouched since last night.

A quick scan of the living room yields nothing but memories of the sparks of a passionate encounter.

My stomach drops. Surely she didn’t…

When I reach the front door, an envelope lying against a vase catches my eye.

Destiny's handwriting. Fucking great.

I snatch it up, scanning the contents:

"Adam,

Had to get home. We should talk later.

Destiny"

I crumple the envelope in my fist. Sneaking out like a one-night stand? Real mature, Destiny.

Gritting my teeth, I storm to the kitchen, downing a glass of water before slamming down the glass.

I slam cabinet doors as I grab a pan and some eggs.

The frustration is making my skin itch, and the sizzle of breakfast hitting hot metal does little to soothe my irritation.

Last night flashes through my mind—Destiny's skin against mine, her gasps of pleasure. I shake my head, forcing the images away.

Last night shouldn’t have happened. We’re in the middle of a divorce. Our relationship should be cordial at best.

Our reconnection isn’t about us. It's about Avery.

I shovel eggs into my mouth, barely tasting them. The bacon is perfectly prepared, just as I normally like it, but it’s tasteless.

My daughter. My priority. Everything else is secondary.

I go to work dressed as sharply as ever. When I walk into the building, I feel a sense of relief spread over me. Being at work sets me at ease like nothing else can.

In my office, I soon lose myself in work, the worries about Avery and Destiny fading into the background. It’s something I’ll deal with later.

The phone's shrill ring cuts through my concentration.

I glance at the caller ID: my lawyer. Shit. His calls never bode well.

"Thomas. Tell me that you’ve good news for me for once," I answer, leaning back in my chair.

"Sorry to disappoint, Adam, but we've got a situation." His voice is tense. "The media's caught wind of Avery."

I sit up straight. My grip tightens on the phone. "What the fuck? How?"

"We're not sure, but we suspect it might be an inside leak. Someone on your staff could've sold the information."

"Goddamnit!" I slam my fist on the desk, sending papers flying. "Find out who it was. I want names."

"We're working on it. But Adam, you need to prepare for the storm. This is going to be big news."

My mind races. Is this why Destiny bolted this morning? Did she somehow know? No, she would have mentioned it, surely.

"Use whatever tactics you have to and get me any info you can get your hands on," I demand. "Let me know the second you have any relevant information. We need to get ahead of this."

Sure, what I'm demanding isn't exactly part of Thomas's job description, but he's learned to deal with whatever I throw his way.

"Already on it. I'll organize everything over within the hour."

I end the call and stare out the window, my reflection glaring back at me. The city skyline blurs as memories of our initial split flood back. The constant media attention, the strain it put on our relationship.

It was what sank our Titanic in the first place.

A bitter smile tugs at my lips. History really likes to repeat itself.

I press the intercom. "Claire, clear my schedule for the rest of the day. And get me everything we have on recent media leaks in relation to me and SynapseX."

I snatch up my phone, my fingers flying over the screen as I dial my PR rep. The line rings once, twice?—

"Adam, what can I do for you?" Samantha's voice is crisp, professional.

"We've got a situation. The media's caught wind of Avery, my daughter."

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Shit. How bad is it?"

"Bad enough. I need this covered up, Sam. Now. I don’t want anyone out there snapping pictures of my three-month-old or stalking her mother for information." My voice is steel, brooking no argument.

"Of course, Adam. We'll get right on it. Can you give me more details?"

I pace in front of my desk, tension coiling in my muscles. "Someone leaked my personal information. Could be internal. I want this contained before it spreads like wildfire."

"Understood. I'll mobilize the team immediately. We'll start by monitoring all major outlets and social media platforms."

"Not good enough," I growl. "I want this nipped in the bud. Call in favors, threaten lawsuits, whatever it takes. Make it happen."

"Adam, we need to be careful. Heavy-handed tactics could backfire?—"

"Did I fucking stutter, Samantha?" The words slice through the air. "This is my daughter we're talking about. I won't have her life turned into a media circus before she can even walk."

A pause. Then, "You're right. I apologize. We'll pull out all the stops."

"That's more like it. I'm counting on you."

"Consider it done. I'll update you hourly."

I end the call, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. I stand in front of the windows, my hands in my pockets. The city sprawls before me, oblivious to the storm brewing. But not for long if we don't get ahead of this.

A thought crosses my mind and I take out my phone. My finger hovers over Destiny's contact, the urge to call her gnawing at me.

I hesitate. If she doesn't know about the leak, I'd be dropping a bomb on her. And if she does... well, that's a conversation I'm not ready to have.

I toss the phone aside, running a hand through my hair. Avery's face flashes in my mind - her tiny hands, those big brown eyes. A surge of protectiveness washes over me.

"Claire," I bark into the intercom. "Get me a list of every employee who could have accessed my personal information in the last six months. Ask the IT team to help you with that."

"Your lawyer already instructed me, Mr. Ryder, I'm on it," she responds, her voice clipped and efficient.

I pace the office once again, my mind racing. Whoever leaked this is going to regret the day they crossed me. I'll make sure of it. They'll learn exactly why you don't fuck with Adam Ryder or his family.

I pour myself a whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing against the crystal tumbler. The first sip burns down my throat, a welcome distraction from the chaos in my head.

I stare into the glass, watching the light refract through the liquor.

Unbidden, memories of last night flood my mind. Destiny's soft skin under my fingertips, her breathless moans echoing in my ears. The way she arched against me, her nails raking down my back...

"Fuck," I mutter, downing the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. The burn intensifies, momentarily clearing my head.

I can't afford to dwell on this. It was a mistake, a moment of weakness. There are more pressing matters at hand.

The mole is in my company, hiding in plain sight. Someone I've trusted has betrayed me, endangered my daughter.

I return to the windows, as if drawn to the view that would normally make me feel pride. The city skyline beyond my window blurs as I turn sharply, my fists clenched at my sides.

My phone buzzes. Samantha's update. Nothing new. No leads on the leak, no progress on containment. Useless.

I grab the crystal tumbler, tempted to hurl it across the room. Instead, I down the remaining whiskey in one swift gulp. The burn does nothing to quell the fire in my veins.

My mind races. Who could've done this? Who would dare cross me? The list of suspects is too long, the potential consequences too severe.

Avery's face flashes in my mind once more. My daughter. My flesh and blood. Now a target for the vultures circling overhead.

And Destiny... Christ. Just when things were... No. I can't think about that now. Focus on the problem at hand.

I snatch up my phone again, dialing Claire. I can’t wait for updates to come to me.

"Any news on that list?" I demand the moment she picks up.

"Not yet, Mr. Ryder. IT is still compiling?—"

"Tell them to work faster. I needed that list yesterday."

I end the call before she can respond.

Incompetence surrounds me.

My reflection glares back at me from the window. Darkness in my eyes, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. I look like a man on the edge.

Because I am. And I fucking hate it.

The intercom buzzes. Claire hesitantly speaks. "Mr. Ryder, your 3 o'clock is here."

Shit. An investors meeting. I'd forgotten.

"Reschedule," I snap.

"But sir, they've flown in from?—"

"I said reschedule!"

Silence. Then a meek, "Yes, Mr. Ryder."

I turn back to the window, bracing my hands against the cool glass. Somewhere out there, Destiny and Avery are going about their day, the foul paparazzi possibly keeping track of them.

Frustration gnaws at my stomach. I need to take control of the situation. Fast.