He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 6

Nyssa Tarrant stood in the entryway, dressed in a slinky silk nightgown, her hair elegantly tousled, radiating sleepy intimacy. She looked exactly like a woman who had just been roused from her lover's bed.

Nyssa was an undeniably captivating woman. She had glowing, sun-kissed skin, a fierce dedication to the gym, and a beautifully toned stomach. With bold features and an aggressive, feral beauty, she dominated the silver screen with raw, magnetic appeal.

The legendary director Zavier Langley had once publicly stated his admiration for her. *The industry is drowning in pretty faces. What we lack are unique, fiercely dedicated talents who can actually act.*

Nyssa was the industry gold standard, the exact actress every filmmaker fought tooth and nail to cast.

Right now, seeing Ottilie on her doorstep, Nyssa's eyes lit up with the manufactured joy of seeing a long-lost friend.

"Are you here for Yorath? He's not home right now."

Her words were sugar-sweet, but her body physically blocked the doorway. She had zero intention of letting Ottilie inside.

"Mr. Crawford insisted I left some belongings here and told me to retrieve them," she explained smoothly.

"Oh, this entire place was gutted and remodeled three years ago. Everything was hauled to the landfill. If I had known there was something of yours, I would have set it aside. But good luck digging through the city dump now. What a shame."

"If it's gone, it's gone.” She turned back to Jevon. “Are we done here?"

Jevon fell into step beside her. "You won't catch a cab in this neighborhood. Get in."

Just as they turned away, Nyssa called out softly, "Jevon, I actually lost something important inside. Could you come help me look for it?"

"Of course. Right there," Jevon replied instantly, eager to assist.

Everybody worshipped Nyssa. Jevon was just another one of her fiercely loyal hounds.

Ottilie was completely numb to the dynamic. She simply picked up her pace to leave, completely failing to notice the man walking up the path until she slammed right into his chest.

"I'm sorry."

Her immediate instinct was to recoil and establish physical distance, deeply ingrained with the fear of offending a powerful man.

But he caught her waist, his arm clamping down around her like an iron vice.

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