He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 75

"If Mr. Fordham said seven days," Soren replied smoothly, "then it will take exactly seven days."

After dinner, Ottilie headed out to meet Lachlan Schmidt.

The rendezvous point was a highly exclusive, unlisted private club.

The venue was part of Lachlan's personal estate, ensuring absolute security and complete discretion.

He had arrived alone, leaving his assistants and legal counsel behind.

The contract was laid out in triplicate.

Ottilie had already scrutinized the digital draft on her phone dozens of times.

Even so, she painstakingly read through every single clause again.

It took her two hours, making absolutely sure no hidden stipulations lurked in the fine print.

Lachlan sat across from her, sipping his tea with perfectly calm patience.

Finally satisfied, Ottilie took a pen and signed on the five required dotted lines.

Lachlan reviewed the documents and playfully blew on the fresh ink.

"Your handwriting is quite beautiful, Ms. Sewell."

"Hardly. I don't have a degree or any real talents. My handwriting is entirely average."

"If a star pupil of the entertainment industry claims to lack an education, no one else would dare boast about theirs."

Lachlan slid the contracts into his briefcase and signaled a waiter. "Bring us a bottle. I want to celebrate with Ms. Sewell."

"I don't drink," Ottilie declined.

"Does Yorath really micromanage you that much?" Lachlan laughed, clearly amused. "Just one glass won't hurt."

"I'm a terrible drunk. If I have a glass, I might try to grope you."

Lachlan stared at her for a few seconds before throwing his head back in roaring laughter.

"You are fascinating."

In his mind, he suddenly understood why Yorath kept her on such a tight leash.

With an attitude like that, why would any man let outsiders enjoy her company?

She was exactly the type of woman a man locked away to keep all to himself.

Playing the perfect gentleman, he said, "Then you stick to tea, and I'll drink."

The server promptly returned with their beverages.

The corners of Ottilie's lips ticked up in a faint, unmistakable smirk. "I had no idea."

"Well, now you know! Mom and Dad are so stressed they're stuck in the hospital! They raised you, and you won't even visit them? What kind of monster are you?"

Shawn spat the words with vicious venom.

"I heard you."

"Heard me my ass! Let me warn you, stop spending that guy's money. He's a calculating, stingy psychopath who weaponizes every cent! Five years ago, he tossed us five grand just to force the whole family onto the stand to testify against you. Now, for twenty grand, he's legally severing you from your own blood. Look at the kind of psycho he is, and then ask yourself if you really want to stay with him."

"I understand."

"Is 'I understand' the only damn thing you can say?!" Shawn shoved her forcefully toward Huxley. "Why don't you have a nice little chat with Mr. Tarrant?"

Huxley flashed her a predatory, gleaming smile. "Ms. Sewell, my new film starts shooting soon. I have a major supporting role open. Do you want it?"

Ottilie remained silent.

Huxley leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper right by her ear. "Spend one night with me, and the role is yours. Your precious Yorath is playing house at The Empyrean with his secret girl. He won't even notice. If you keep your mouth shut, nobody will ever know."

He was practically vibrating with lust.

Ottilie was a breathtaking beauty. The fact that Yorath kept her around but supposedly never touched her was a complete waste of top-tier merchandise.

If Yorath wasn't going to sample the goods, there was an entire line of guys desperate for a taste.