He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 5

Yorath remained silent, his predatory, hawkish gaze locked on her face. It was a look of cold judgment, silently calculating her exact worth.

It was the exact same look he gave her three years ago when, standing at the absolute peak of power with the executioner's blade in hand, he told her: *Plead guilty, Ottilie, and I'll ensure you get probation.*

Pushed to the very edge of a cliff, making her desperate last stand against an entire army, she had answered him then.

She had said: *I'm innocent. I did nothing wrong. I won't plead guilty.*

Time dragged on in agonizing, suffocating seconds. The oxygen in the room seemed to vanish, choked out entirely by his sheer presence.

After what felt like a century, the corner of his mouth curved up into something resembling a smile. He said, "I'll let you make one wish today."

"I don't have any wishes, Mr. Fordham."

During her time at St. Dymphna's Psychiatric Facility, she endured electroshock therapy, forced chemical injections, solitary confinement, and being strapped to a bed for days. They had methodically imprisoned both her body and her soul. She had screamed out countless wishes to him back then, and he hadn't answered a single one.

Yorath gave a dismissive wave of his hand, signaling her to leave.

Ottilie turned on her heel and walked out without a shred of hesitation or regret.

This was exactly what she had expected. A god among men like him wasn't going to lower himself to beg for a discarded bedroom toy.

To put it bluntly, she wasn't worth the effort.

Stepping into the hallway, she ran into Jevon just as he was raising his hand to knock. He was carrying a semi-transparent plastic pharmacy bag. Inside were three boxes of ultra-thin Durex.

Behind him trailed a waiter holding a small, intricate cake.

Jevon casually shoved the plastic bag toward her.

"The cheap ones the hotel stocks are garbage. This was the best I could find on short notice."

She didn't take it. "I have to get back to my shift, so I won't disturb his evening any further. You can hand deliver it yourself," she replied politely.

Jevon leaned lazily against the doorframe, openly watching her walk away. He admired the hypnotic sway of her hips and the impossibly narrow curve of her waist.

He didn't step inside until she completely disappeared around the corner.

Yorath was still on the sofa, smoking quietly.

Jevon leaned over, snagged a cigar for himself, lit it, and smirked. "She really isn't as stunning as she used to be. Should have tossed her in the trash a long time ago."

Yorath shot him one look, and the smirk instantly died on Jevon's face.

...

Later that night.

When her shift ended, Ottilie walked out of the employee exit to find Yves waiting for her, holding a massive bouquet of flowers.

"Happy birthday, Ottilie."

She blinked in surprise before a warm smile broke across her face. "How did you know it was my birthday?"

"I used to watch your live broadcasts every single year." He handed her the vibrant bouquet. "Would you do me the honor of getting dinner tonight?"

"I'd love to." She accepted the flowers and climbed into his car.

However, halfway to the restaurant, they were violently rear-ended.

Yves's immediate reaction was to turn to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What about you? Are you hurt?" She had been securely buckled, only jolted slightly by the impact.

"I'm perfectly fine. Stay here, I'll go check the damage," Yves instructed.

Peering out the back window, Ottilie realized the car that hit them was a sleek black Bentley.

Yves tapped on the driver's side window, but no one answered.

She pushed her door open and stepped out, wincing at the crumpled bumper of his Nissan.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify