He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 115

Jevon had just been seething over the phone call with Ottilie, and walking into the room to hear that sentence left him utterly stunned.

He shot a quick glance at his buddies. With the matriarch present, they couldn't afford to make wild faces or throw covert signals, lest she think they were uncultured.

They were all sitting with stiff, perfect posture.

Jevon forced a laugh, casually twirling his phone in his hand.

Feigning a playboy's indifference, he said, "I was just messing around. Nyssa doesn't even like me. If I proposed and she turned me down, I'd look like a total idiot."

He strolled over and dropped into the seat next to Yorath.

Looking toward Marcella, he added, "Besides, as you know, my family is super strict. I can't just make a massive decision like taking a wife all on my own!"

"Listen to you boys, what kind of nonsense is that?" Marcella chided gently. "You're making it sound like Nyssa is unmarriageable and desperate to latch onto one of you."

She took Nyssa's hand, her expression entirely benevolent. "Don't you worry, Nyssa. In the future, whoever catches your eye, that man will be your husband. I'll personally back you up."

Before Nyssa could even formulate a response.

Marcella continued, "Yorath's grandfather has already arranged a suitable match for him. The young lady will be arriving shortly. She's from a highly respectable family, old money, third-generation elite. We shouldn't be making jokes about this."

Nyssa lowered her eyes, staring hard at the tips of her shoes.

She was starting to deeply regret orchestrating this 'coincidental' run-in at the Phoenix Hotel.

Marcella had seen straight through her every move.

If the Fordham family refused to accept someone like Ottilie, there was zero chance they'd ever accept her.

Of course, in her mind, as long as Yorath loved her, none of that mattered.

If a man truly loved a woman, he would pull her through hell and high water to bring her home.

The focus still had to remain entirely on him.

She just needed a stepping stone.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Fordham, we all know where the lines are drawn."

Nyssa offered a sweet, harmless smile, then turned her gaze to Yorath. "Yorath, why hasn't Ms. Sewell come in yet?"

Jevon answered, "She's meeting someone for business."

"They should be wrapping up by now. I'll go invite her over," Nyssa offered.

Lachlan pulled her back a step, and she finally saw Nyssa standing right in front of them.

"Ms. Tarrant."

"Yorath would like to see you," Nyssa announced.

"I'll pass. Sorry you made the trip for nothing."

Ottilie moved to brush past her.

Nyssa spoke up again. "His arranged match is arriving soon. The daughter of a massively wealthy, equal-status family. The future lady of the house. Shouldn't people like us go take a look?"

Ottilie stopped. "People like us? What exactly are we? Mistresses or side pieces? We are not cut from the same cloth, Ms. Tarrant. Don't drag me into your little circle. I have zero interest in who he marries. Could you just do me a favor and take him away so he stops hogging my bed?"

On any normal day, she would never have let those words slip.

But the alcohol had loosened her tongue, and all her repressed grievances bypassed her brain's filter entirely.

Behind her, the door to the private suite slid open, and Yorath stepped into the hall.

It was impossible to tell exactly how much he had heard.