He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 77

Half an hour later, Ottilie followed Yorath out into the cool night air.

Nyssa was still waiting by the door. She called out softly, "Yorath."

Yorath gave a brief, dismissive nod and guided Ottilie toward his car.

Desperate, Nyssa chased after them, pressing her hands against the rear window.

"Yorath, I swear I didn't mean it! I was just out of my mind with panic!"

The car didn't stop, smoothly accelerating away from the curb.

Nyssa jogged alongside it for a few paces.

Rolling the window down an inch, Yorath said flatly, "It's late. Go home. Don't let the press catch you out here like this."

"Okay."

Finally, she gave up and let the car pull away.

Inside, Ottilie gingerly touched her swollen cheek and hissed in pain.

She pulled out her phone and immediately wired the fresh two thousand dollars to Yves.

[Mr. Walden, here's two thousand. I'll pay back the rest as soon as I can.]

The second the message sent, her phone was snatched out of her hand.

Yorath tapped his finger sharply against Yves's name on the screen.

His sharp, sculpted features were set in a terrifying snarl, his eyes completely devoid of warmth.

"How many men are you juggling right now, Ottilie?"

She remained silent, unsure of how to answer that safely.

Up front, Soren smoothly pulled the car onto the shoulder, stepped out with his cigarette case, and walked a discreet distance away.

Yorath tossed the phone aside, clamped a hand around her arm, and slammed her back against the leather seat.

He pinned her firmly, trapping her in place.

"Yorath," Ottilie breathed, her voice trembling slightly, her long lashes fluttering in obvious distress.

The angry redness of her bruised cheek somehow only amplified her fragile, devastating allure.

Yorath pressed his lips roughly against the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Cut him off."

She bit her lower lip and refused to respond.

His hand moved to the collar of her blouse, ripping the top buttons loose with a sharp tug.

With a deft pull, he dragged the dark fabric down off her shoulder.

Exposing her bare shoulder and a wide expanse of smooth, luminous skin to the cool air inside the cabin.

His mouth immediately followed.

Ottilie didn't know how to counter that.

Mostly because he wasn't entirely wrong.

"Don't push me, Ottilie."

"You're the one pushing me," she whispered, turning to gaze at the harsh line of his mouth, hovering mere inches from hers.

She leaned in to close the distance.

But he turned his head, dodging the kiss.

"Let's not talk about other people right now, okay? I can still take care of you right here in the car."

Yorath shoved her back against the seat, his face twisting with disgust. "Forcing yourself to sleep with me just to protect your precious Mr. Walden? You really are quite the martyr."

"This was the deal we made. You've been rejecting me, and I'm getting anxious about my debt."

Owing Yorath Fordham money was a terrifying position to be in.

Shawn had been right about one thing—every dime spent by Yorath came with heavy, hidden strings attached.

And with legal fees this astronomical hanging over her head, she literally couldn't sleep at night.

His brutal grip on her slowly loosened.

"If you're so desperate to pay off your legal fees, climb over here and start working. Let's see if you're actually worth the investment."