Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Quintessa pushed open the door to the dressing room and took a seat, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She saw her face – beautiful, but her eyes – fierce, filled with raw

ambition.

Tyrone was coming, but what was her next move?

Today, Tyrone had made a point of coming over, and that look he gave her left no doubt in Quintessa’s mind that he was into her. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he have sought revenge after she toyed with him that night?

Since he was showing interest, she’d play the game – keep him on the hook and turn that flicker of interest into a raging fire.

She too wanted to hold herself with dignity, but the show business had no room for naivety. For a newcomer with no connections, dreaming of making it big was pure fantasy.

Either way, in the vast landscape of Emberbrook, Tyrone was the best ally she could find. Besides, she wasn’t in a position to challenge Tyrone. She couldn’t beat him; it was better to use him than to oppose him and get squashed like an ant.

Still, the thought of her pride being trampled on by Tyrone brought a bitter taste to her mouth. She looked down at her hands, wondering when they would be powerful enough to slap Tyrone out of her way for good.

Decisive as always, Quintessa wasn’t one to dawdle.

Footsteps approached from outside. Rising from her chair, she moved towards a nearby coat rack.

The door swung open, and without turning around, Quintessa reached behind her for the stuck zipper, “Manny, my zipper’s caught. Would you be a dear and help me out?” Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

After a moment, someone stepped behind her and tugged the zipper down. The breath on her neck was warm and ticklish, too close for comfort.

“Good, you can step out now. I need to change,” Quintessa said.

But the figure behind her didn’t move. Quintessa spun around, “What’s the holdup?”

She stopped mid–sentence, retreating a step, her voice laced with mock surprise, “Well, if it isn’t Mr. York. Didn’t your teachers ever tell you to knock before entering a room?”

As soon as Tyrone had pushed the door open, Quintessa knew it was him.

Everyone’s footsteps sounded different, and she could distinguish between Tyrone’s and Manny’s with ease.

She had done it on purpose. Seduction required a certain finesse, after all.

17:08

Her step back was a clear stance, and Tyrone’s eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, locked onto hers. He advanced until Quintessa was pressed against the wall, trapped within his Imposing frame, “Everything here is mine, including you if I want it. Why should I knock?”

Quintessa could feel his anger, and though she thought of leading him on, she wasn’t gonna play any game with him, “Fine, I’m leaving then.”

She ducked, attempting to slip under his arm, but he pushed her back firmly, “Did I say your could go?”

Quintessa suddenly became serious in demeanor, which irked Tyrone a lot.

She gritted her teeth and asked, “So, Mr. York, what is it that you want exactly?”

Tyrone’s lips curled into a sneer, “You hit hard last time, didn’t you? Who else would give you such a thrill without me?”

The lingering pain on Tyrone’s neck was a constant reminder. That kick, though not particularly severe, was a first for him.

It was a feeling he reckoned he’d only experience once in his lifetime. Quintessa, just by that act alone, had secured a permanent shadow in his heart.

Quintessa tilted her head back, letting out a hollow laugh, “Ha! That’s hilarious. The men who’ve thrilled me are a dime a dozen. I hardly miss one less.”