Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

At 2 a.m.. Quintessa had been waiting at the underground parking lot with Manny for a solid four hours.

Manny was yawning relentlessly, his eyes bloodshot and weary, “Quinn, you sure about this to? Maybe Jerome’s not showing tonight, huh?”

Quintessa seemed immune to fatigue, her face betraying not a hint of tiredness. She glanced at her watch, “Wel give it another hour. If he’s a no–show, we’ll bail,”

Violet had sold Quintessa a hot tip about Jerome’s whereabouts, gleaned from a seasoned entertainment journalist friend, Jerome usually spent his weekends at Zenobia’s place until the wee hours, and then retreated to his apartment. And tonight was Saturday.

They were staking out the parking lot beneath Jerome’s apartment, the most likely place he’d hit first on his way

home.

Half an hour later, headlights swept the entrance. Quintessa nudged Manny awake, “Showtimet

Manny snapped to attention, instantly alert.

Quintessa reminded him. “Remember what I told you, get the clear shot, but keep my face out of it*

“Got it. Don’t worry, Quinn. I was the ace of my college photo club.*

She donned her cap and shades, and stepped out of the car.

Jerome killed the engine and stepped out; the door was barely shut when he heard a voice from behind, “Late night, huh? Where’ve you been gallivanting?”

He spun around to find Quintessa leaning casually against a car, her hair cut into a chic bob. She wore a crisp white sundress with a short black leather jacket studded at the shoulders, her legs crossed nonchalantly. She was a mix of innocence, allure, and a dash of rebel.

Seeing Quintessa, a devilish grin broke through Jerome’s otherwise stoic façade. Beneath his scholarly glasses, he looked both cultured and wild.

He loosened his tie, taking deliberate steps toward her, “Decided to come looking for me at last?*

Jerome had purposely pressured Director Frost to snag a role from Quintessa, hoping to force her hand. But days had passed without a word from her, his mood took a plummet, and he was beginning to think he’d miscalculated. But now here she was.

Quintessa folded her arms, giving Jerome a once–over, “Just checking which little vixen lured my brother–in–law away.”

Jerome opened the top two buttons of his shirt, feeling desire rise at the sight of Quintessa.

“Nobody’s a match for you, if that’s what you want,” he leisurely moved closer.

Quintessa scoffed, “Really? Then if she’s not in my league, how come she snagged my role?” Hands on hips, chin lifted and chest out, she questioned, “I don’t understand, Jerome. Are you blind or what? She’s prettier than me, got a nice body, or her skills are good in bed?”

Jerome’s arms encircled Quintessa’s waist, pulling her close with a yank, “Doesn’t matter how good her skills in bed are. As long as you are willing, she’s nothing to me.”

Suppressing her disgust and the urge to kick where it hurt most, Quintessa tilted her head, and her hand laid on his shoulder, whispered into his ear, “So, you really want to sleep with your sister–in–law?”

Eyes closed, Jerome inhaled her scent deeply, “Can’t sleep because of it.”

1/1

18-23

At 2 a.m., Quintessa had been waiting at the underground parking lot with Manny for a solid four hours.

Manny was yawning relentlessly, his eyes bloodshot and weary. “Quinn, you sure about this tip? Maybe Jerome’s not showing tonight, huh?”

Quintessa seemed immune to fatigue, her face betraying not a hint of tiredness. She glanced at her watch, “We’ll give it another hour. If he’s a no–show, we’ll bail,”

Violet had sold Quintessa a hot tip about Jerome’s whereabouts, gleaned from a seasoned entertainment journalist friend. Jerome usually spent his weekends at Zenobia’s place until the wee hours, and then retreated to his apartment. And tonight was Saturday.

They were staking out the parking lot beneath Jerome’s apartment, the most likely place he’d hit first on his way

home.

Half an hour later, headlights swept the entrance. Quintessa nudged Manny awake, “Showtime.”

Manny snapped to attention, instantly alert.

Quintessa reminded him, “Remember what I told you, get the clear shot, but keep my face out of it.”

“Got it. Don’t worry, Quinn, I was the ace of my college photo club.”

She donned her cap and shades, and stepped out of the car.

Jerome killed the engine and stepped out; the door was barely shut when he heard a voice from behind, “Late night, huh? Where’ve you been gallivanting?”

He spun around to find Quintessa leaning casually against a car, her hair cut into a chic bob. She wore a crisp white sundress with a short black leather jacket studded at the shoulders, her legs crossed nonchalantly. She was a mix of innocence, allure, and a dash of rebel.

Seeing Quintessa, a devilish grin broke through Jerome’s otherwise stoic façade. Beneath his scholarly glasses, he looked both cultured and wild.

He loosened his tie, taking deliberate steps toward her, “Decided to come looking for me at last?”

Jerome had purposely pressured Director Frost to snag a role from Quintessa, hoping to force her hand. But days had passed without a word from her, his mood took a plummet, and he was beginning to think he’d miscalculated. But now here she was. This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Quintessa folded her arms, giving Jerome a once–over, “Just checking which little vixen lured my brother–in–law

away.”

Jerome opened the top two buttons of his shirt, feeling desire rise at the sight of Quintessa.

“Nobody’s a match for you, if that’s what you want,” he leisurely moved closer.

Quintessa scoffed, “Really? Then if she’s not in my league, how come she snagged my role?” Hands on hips, chin lifted and chest out, she questioned, “I don’t understand, Jerome. Are you blind or what? She’s prettier than me, got a nice body, or her skills are good in bed?”

Jerome’s arms encircled Quintessa’s waist, pulling her close with a yank, “Doesn’t matter how good her skills in bed are. As long as you are willing, she’s nothing to me.”

Suppressing her disgust and the urge to kick where it hurt most, Quintessa tilted her head, and her hand laid on his shoulder, whispered into his ear, “So, you really want to sleep with your sister–in–law?”

Eyes closed, Jerome inhaled her scent deeply, “Can’t sleep because of it.”