He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 179

Feeling drained, Ottilie leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes to rest.

But the second her eyes fluttered shut, she heard the sharp rustle of Yorath's documents.

Opening her eyes, she saw him set the file onto the tray table and turn to face her.

Ottilie offered a faint, wordless smile.

"You made it all the way to the hospital lobby. Why didn't you go up and see my mother?"

"I have no filter, and I don't know how to suck up. I was afraid I'd anger her."

"You seem quite good at sweet-talking Yves. Or is he the one sweet-talking you?"

The smile instantly vanished from Ottilie's face.

Yorath kept pressing. "I heard you promised him that once you finish whatever you're plotting, you'd marry him and settle down into a quiet life?"

"Yorath, Yves is a good man. Don't make things difficult for him." Ottilie had no idea how Yorath could have uncovered such private conversations.

She highly suspected the medical staff from the mountain trip had something to do with it.

"He's the good guy, and I'm the villain?" Yorath's voice was dangerously cold.

"Yves has never forced me to do anything against my will," Ottilie replied.

Silence consumed the car.

The air grew incredibly thin, making it suffocating for Ottilie to breathe.

A heavy wave of irritation crushed her chest, her emotions teetering on the edge.

She took slow, deep breaths, desperately trying to maintain her composure.

Catching a glimpse of Yorath out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his clenched jawline and granite expression.

He was furious.

Yorath usually had impeccable emotional control; he had never lost his temper in front of her before.

Now that all affection between them was gone, she was still forced to play the part of a compliant, smiling pet.

Suddenly, Ottilie was entirely sick of the charade.

"Mr. Fordham, about that night in the mountains... I considered it entirely non-consensual on your part."

She was one syllable away from outright accusing him of assault.

Yorath locked eyes with her, bloodshot fury in his gaze and a vein throbbing in his neck.

Taking one look was enough; Ottilie didn't dare glance twice, instantly turning her head to stare out the window.

The rest of the drive was perfectly silent.

The atmosphere was so oppressive it was hard to draw breath.

They entered the house.

He was just her financial backer.

They supposedly still had two years left on their contract.

But it had already been voided.

And she hadn't signed the new one.

Which meant she had zero obligation to sleep with him.

The bathroom door slid open.

Ottilie turned around to see Yorath stepping out, dressed in a black silk robe.

Under the cold, stark light, he looked chillingly regal.

Prowling toward her, he drawled, "Ottilie, you're in breach of your contract."

"I'm sorry. I can't do it." Ottilie took a step back, putting distance between them.

The dark, musky scent of his cologne was intoxicating, practically weaponized pheromones.

But she absolutely loathed the smell.

She simply couldn't sleep with a man who had shoved her into a psychiatric ward for the sake of another woman.

She couldn't fake it; she could no longer tolerate him invading her soul.