He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 180

"Find someone else, Yorath," Ottilie pleaded. "I really just can't do it."

Yorath let out a low chuckle and turned to sit down on the sofa. Speaking in the nonchalant tone of a businessman negotiating terms, he said, "If you won't do it, I'm sure Yves can find a way to please me."

Ottilie furrowed her brows.

Having navigated the toxic cesspool of the entertainment industry, she knew better than anyone just how filthy sexual exploitation could get.

Beautiful people were quite literally used until they were destroyed.

Yorath himself wouldn't stoop to such disgusting acts.

But that didn't mean he lacked subordinates eager to do his dirty work.

Class hierarchy was a weapon that could crush a person effortlessly.

In the past, she hadn't felt this impenetrable barrier around him.

Gentle, refined, and devastatingly handsome, he had been the quintessential image of an aristocratic heir in her heart.

Clearly, if you stayed with someone long enough, even the perfect man of your dreams could morph into a hideous monster.

Walking up to him, Ottilie slowly began to strip.

In mere seconds, she was standing before him completely bare.

Her body was utterly flawless, boasting exquisite curves that were too gorgeous to be entirely human.

Yorath patted his thigh.

Ottilie climbed onto his lap, reaching down to unfasten his belt.

Yorath tilted her chin up, taking in her red-rimmed eyes. She looked like an injured fawn—pitifully fragile.

"See? You can do it after all, can't you?"

Ottilie didn't answer. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shifted her knees to his sides and lifted her hips, preparing to sink down.

Yorath abruptly clamped his hands around her waist, stopping her cold.

"Tilly, you proposed to me, and I accepted. You once said marriage requires loyalty. I expect you to honor that."

Ottilie bit her lower lip, remaining silent.

When he kissed her, she tilted her head back to comply.

She was like a blooming wild rose.

Trembling as she unfurled in his arms.

The air grew heavy with an intoxicating fragrance.

A bead of sweat rolled down Yorath's forehead.

As if possessing a mind of its own, it landed on her luminous skin.

Whatever she was saying now certainly wasn't instructed by Yorath.

"If you have something to say, spit it out."

Yvonne said bluntly, "Mr. Fordham told the family last night that he intends to marry. The bride-to-be is likely the woman living at The Empyrean. My sole duty is to serve the future Mrs. Fordham. However, if you need me, Ms. Sewell, you can ask him to officially hire me as your assistant."

Ottilie understood perfectly.

As long as she officially hired Yvonne, she would stay.

"Do you have an issue with the woman at The Empyrean?" Ottilie found it odd; Yvonne never seemed like the type to hold personal biases.

To her, Yorath's word was absolute law.

Yet, Yvonne fell silent.

After a long beat, she replied, "Forgive me, but I am not at liberty to say."

"I can't afford you."

"I don't need a salary."

Ottilie turned to stare fully at her.

Yvonne elaborated, "Once Mr. Fordham marries, your position in this household will become highly precarious. If I stay, I can take the hits meant for you, and I can act as your informant, relaying any news from the main estate the second it drops."