Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

It had been a few days since Tyrone last saw Quintessa, and in avoiding her, he felt like he’d finally

regained his composure.

Having shaken off the bizarre notion that Quintessa had somehow cast a spell on him with her womanly wiles, he was back to normal.

But now, in the silence, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

James lingered outside the door before knocking and entering.

“Mr. York,” he began hesitantly, “there’s something I’m not sure whether I should mention.”

Tyrone cut him off, “If it shouldn’t be said, then get out.”

James flinched, quickly blurting out, “Well, it’s like this–the launch party for ‘Whispers in the Wind‘ is planned for this Friday.”

Tyrone frowned, “Get out.”

He wanted to hear nothing about Quintessa right now.

But James, being jittery, hurried to finish, “But, the organizers don’t seem to have any plans to invite Ms. Quintessa Young. Considering that our company has invested a good chunk of change for her to star, it seems like a slight if she’s not at the launch party.”

Tyrone, who had been ready to hurl the documents on his desk at the messenger, set them down instead. “Invite the producer and the director for drinks at Luxe Haven Club tonight.”

James nodded eagerly, “Yes, sir!”

Mr. York was about to lay down the law.

How dare they not invite Ms. Quintessa Young!

Mr. York was fiercely loyal to his own; he might step on his people, but heaven forbid anyone else did.

That night at Luxe Haven Club, the producer and director of ‘Whispers in the Wind‘, along with the lead. actor, Quennel Sampson, were present. Kevin was hosting while Tyrone was conspicuously absent.

From 9 PM to midnight, they drowned themselves in a sea of booze, but Tyrone was nowhere to be seen.

Quennel turned to Kevin, “Kevin, it’s getting late, and we have things to do tomorrow.”

Kevin interrupted, “Don’t rush. Mr. York will be here any minute.”

They waited reluctantly–who would dare leave when the patron hadn’t yet appeared?

Another hour passed before Tyrone finally made his grand entrance.

As he walked in, everyone stood up, “Mr. York.”

Tyrone gave them a cursory glance, “Glad to see everyone arrived. Sit down. Tonight, I’m your host. Drink up, no one leaves sober.”

The very thought was bitter to them; more drinking!

Under normal circumstances, the latecomer would have to down three penalty shots, but with Tyrone,

15:03

they didn’t dare.

As soon as he sat down, he had the waitresses pour a lethal mix of hard liquor for everyone, “I drove here tonight, so I can’t drink. Gentlemen, please drink on my behalf.”

The statement sent a chill through the room; it was a clear challenge. What had they done to incur the wrath of this financial deity? ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Keeping their thoughts to themselves and having grim determination, they drank the fiery blend; upon finishing the drink, they felt it scorch a path from their throats to their bellies.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Director Zachary Gardner said with a laugh, “If it wasn’t presumptuous, I’d invite Mr. York to star in the film. Your looks and presence are simply too exceptional.”

It wasn’t mere flattery; every time Zachary saw Tyrone, he felt it a shame that such a man wasn’t gracing the screen.

Tyrone raised an eyebrow, “I prefer to splash the cash and watch others perform for

my entertainment.”