He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 63

"This lighter doesn't suit your status," Ottilie said. "You might as well give it back to me."

It was the gift she had bought him for his first birthday after they got together. She had spent all her money on it—about fifty bucks.

The letters stood for their names.

He had never used it.

She still remembered the priceless expressions on Jevon and the others' faces when she gave it to him.

She had been eighteen, naive, and completely oblivious to the unwritten rules of their world.

Looking back, she could only imagine how much they had mocked her behind closed doors for offering something so cheap and unpresentable.

"Didn't you give it to me?" Yorath asked.

"You have plenty of lighters. You don't need this one."

He just looked at her and smiled, saying nothing.

Jevon couldn't hold back his insults. "You spent a fortune buying crystal globes for your precious Yves Walden, but you're begging for a trashy lighter back? What, trying to draw a line in the sand? Why don't you take a good look in the mirror? Without Yorath protecting you, see how fast the men out there tear you apart once you walk out that door."

She kept her head down, remaining silent.

Yorath reached out and enveloped her hand in his. His palm was burning hot, his grip gentle but firm.

"If you like lighters, I'll buy you a new one," he murmured.

He slid the lighter from her grasp and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

Jevon let out a dismissive snort.

Still holding her hand, Yorath kept his smile in place. "Do you like Lachlan that much?"

Ottilie glanced at the half-empty bottle, knowing Lachlan was still hiding somewhere in the suite.

She wondered if he had retreated to the bathroom.

Lachlan had no reason to hide from Yorath.

He was clearly doing it to keep their association a secret.

Yorath's instincts were terrifyingly accurate. He had deduced it was Lachlan just from the lingering cologne, leaving her no room to lie.

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