Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Quintessa scoffed offhandedly. “Oh, thanks”

“That’s 11?”

With a click, Quintessa switched on the bedside wall lamp.

The dim light was comforting, but Quintessa’s eyes were piercing. She said, “What else do you want then? to get in bed?”

Her tongue was full of bite wounds, and when she first woke up, all she felt was a headache.

Now, as her mind was becoming clearer, the pain from the wounds on her tongue began throbbed with each word, especially she spoke, her teeth grazing the tender spots made it even more painful.

Tyrone was at a loss for words, exasperated, “Quintessa, do you even know what gratitude is?”

He was a normal man, and indeed he did want to sleep with Quintessa, but, when she threw it out there so nonchalantly, he found himself unable to say them out loud, feeling like it was the ultimate insult to a man.

Quintessa mocked, “Oh look at you, Mr. York, you’re still playing the saint? If you’re looking for a goody two shoes, you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m infamous for my ingratitude and lack of appreciation.”

She indeed appreciated Tyrone saving her, but that didn’t mean everything before could be forgiven.

Tyrone was fuming, ready to explode, but seeing Quintessa’s weary face, bloodshot eyes, and that mocking twist of her lips, he swallowed his anger, unable to let it out.

He nodded, “Fine, you’re no goody two–shoes, and I’m fucking innocent, okay? Let’s just sleep,”

He turned over and lay down, pulling up the blanket and turning his back, clearly done with the conversation.

Quintessa rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock it was past 4 am.

She lay down, unable to sleep, her mind replaying the most dangerous moment of the day.

Sure, theoretically, she should thank Tyrone.

But she couldn’t say it out. It wasn’t petulance; it was the resentment she harbored for this man in her heart, the humiliation that day she couldn’t forget. NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

Quintessa and Tyrone lay back–to–back, just like that day at Tyrone’s residence – divided by a wide chasm of unsaid words and unresolved tensions.

Quintessa closed her eyes, thinking of Roxanne, how should she take revenge on that woman?

If she didn’t deal with her properly, wouldn’t all her efforts have gone to waste? She was plotting various method; she couldn’t swallow this resentment without acting on it.

Suddenly, a weight settled on her waist – Tyrone’s arm pressing over her again.

Damn it!

“Did you said you’re innocent? Then have the guts to not stick close.”

Tyrone grunted, “What’s more innocent than chatting under a comforter? Let’s sleep.”

Quintessa snorted, then suddenly turned over, her hand directly attacking Tyrone’s lower half.

Tyrone inhaled sharply, his breath growing increasingly heavy in the dark.

She drawled, “Go on, keep up with your innocence.”

Tyrone clenched his jaw, veins bulging on his forehead, “Damn it.”

The woman was right there in his arms, a temptress with curves that haunted his dreams for too many nights.

But now, it was like a dieter who had starved for days, was suddenly presented with a sizzling plate of barbecue ribs placed right before them. Do you eat it or not?

To indulge would be to throw away all previous efforts, and you’ll be looked