He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 76

Ottilie glanced up at Huxley, then immediately dropped her gaze in an impossibly shy, demure flutter of eyelashes.

The sudden burst of coy vulnerability was completely mesmerizing.

Huxley's breathing hitched, his pulse racing.

"I... I'm willing," she murmured softly. "But I have one tiny condition."

In that specific moment, he would have ripped his own heart out of his chest and handed it to her if she asked.

But he forced himself to play it cool, trying to mask his desperate eagerness so she wouldn't think she had the upper hand.

He couldn't afford to let her leverage him.

"That Fever Pitch 39.8 you brought last time... if you drink three glasses of it, I'll do whatever you want."

Huxley swallowed hard. "Tilly, I don't need three glasses. I can wreck you without a drop. I'll make sure you're begging for mercy by the end of the night."

"It's my only condition," she said, her voice dropping into a fragile whisper.

"Fine! Three glasses it is. If you're game, why the hell should I back down?"

The entire entourage piled into their cars and hit a high-end club.

2:00 AM.

Ottilie sat under the harsh fluorescent lights of the police precinct, calling Yorath.

"Yorath... I'm at the police station. Can you come?"

"Which precinct?"

She gave him the address.

Just as she hung up, Nyssa burst through the doors, Kendrick Walden trailing frantically behind her.

Nyssa stormed right up to her and slapped her hard across the face.

"What did I ever do to you?!" she shrieked. "You tried to kill my brother! Are you completely psychotic?!"

A sharp, stinging fire spread across Ottilie's cheek.

She figured it would definitely bruise.

Turning to the nearest officer, she said calmly, "Officer, this woman just assaulted me inside a police station. I want to press charges. I demand a formal apology and full compensation for my medical bills and emotional distress."

Nyssa let out a hysterical bark of laughter and dropped onto the bench next to her.

Yorath arrived minutes later, bringing Soren with him.

He marched straight toward the entrance, barely pausing when Kendrick called out, "Mr. Fordham."

He turned and spotted Nyssa sitting on the steps.

She quickly stood up, desperately smoothing out her dress.

"Yorath, I'm so sorry. I lost my temper earlier and slapped her. But I already apologized and paid the settlement fine."

Yorath didn't offer a single word of comfort. He turned on his heel and strode into the station.

There sat Ottilie on the rigid plastic bench. Her cheek was visibly inflamed, the corners of her eyes flushed with a faint pink hue, and her eyelashes practically glimmered with unshed tears.

She was gripping the police settlement paper tightly in her hand.

"Ottilie."

She looked up, spotted him, and immediately jumped to her feet. "Yorath... Mr. Tarrant wanted to drink with me. He downed three glasses of Fever Pitch 39.8, and now he's in the ER fighting for his life. Someone tipped off the cops, claiming I forced the drinks down his throat."

"I'll handle this," Yorath said icily.

Ottilie sat quietly, watching as he effortlessly took control of the situation.