He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 116

Yorath stood in the doorway, his sharp gaze locking immediately onto Lachlan's arm, which was wrapped securely around her shoulder.

His eyes lingered there for two agonizing seconds before slowly shifting to Ottilie's face.

"Have you been drinking?"

She nodded. "Yeah, just one glass."

He stepped forward, reaching out to smoothly pull her out of Lachlan's grip and into his own.

Lachlan clearly wasn't eager to let her go. "I just heard you were about to meet your prospective fiancée. I think it's best if you leave Ms. Sewell in my care. We wouldn't want to ruin your perfect evening."

"It's quite late, Mr. Schmidt. Instead of keeping company with the various women you keep on retainer, you're out here drinking with my artist. I think you're the one who owes me an explanation."

Yorath gripped her arm tighter, pulling her flush against his chest.

Lachlan's arm fell empty, leaving only the lingering trace of a mesmerizing perfume in the air.

It was subtle, like a poppy flower.

Not lethal, just deeply addictive.

"You said it yourself—she's an artist signed to your company, not your wife. And even a wife has the right to socialize freely. Constantly restricting her freedom like this... is it because you lack confidence in yourself, or because you know she doesn't actually care about you, and you're panicking?"

Yorath offered a cold smile. "If that's the explanation you're giving me, consider it received."

With that, he looked down at Ottilie. "Are you planning to keep drinking?"

Her mind sobered up significantly at the tone of his voice.

He despised it when she interacted with other people.

Men, women, old, or young—it didn't matter.

Back when she was on set, she used to get along well with a few co-workers and made some friends.

They'd arrange small get-togethers.

Yorath had bumped into them a few times. He had been impeccably polite, even buying everyone coffee.

Less than a week later, every single one of those people had vanished from her life.

She was busy shooting, and by the time she finally remembered to reach out to them, none of their numbers worked anymore.

Until Lachlan delivered on all those grand promises he'd made, she couldn't afford to burn her bridges with Yorath just yet.

"I'm done drinking. Let's go home."

He kept his arm firmly around her waist, walking right past Lachlan.

Nyssa interjected, "Yorath, Mrs. Fordham's birthday dinner hasn't even started yet."

"I'm taking her home first."

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