Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Quintessa couldn’t help but roll her eyes, while draping an arm lazily across her face; then she said with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Wow, that’s some fetish, spying on me while I pee?”

Tyrone was speechless.

Quintessa had thought she wouldn’t care, but damn it, now she had stage fright and couldn’t do her business.

With a fierce glare at Tyrone, she yanked up her jeans and stomped past him, deliberately stepping on his foot as she exited.

Tyrone winced, the corner of his mouth twitching in pain.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Quintessa cleaned up and went out for some oatmeal.

Tyrone emerged from the bathroom just in time to see Quintessa pulling a muffin out of a paper bag, and he couldn’t help but comment, “You should stick to the oatmeal, and skip the muffins. An actress needs to watch her figure; don’t you worry about turning into a barrel?”

If he hadn’t been thinking about her stomach issues, he wouldn’t have let her near the oatmeal.

That fast food, bought by some other guy, ugh..

Quintessa laughed with a hint of mockery, “Not eating them, huh? You worried I’ll get a barrel waist? Since when is my body any of your business?”

Was Tyrone known for being fussy and nitpicky? Didn’t Quintessa know that? He wouldn’t touch fast food with a ten–foot pole. Even the thought of it made him uncomfortable.

“Of course, it’s my business. The one holding you at night is…”

He didn’t finish his sentence as Quintessa snatched up a plump muffin and took a big bite.

Tyrone was speechless.

Quintessa savored her meal; someone who had known hunger surely understood the value of food and never wasted it.

Tyrone frowned as he watched her devour the muffin and slurp down her oatmeal.

He had seen plenty of women who ate like birds to maintain their figures, terrified of gaining an ounce. But Quintessa? She ate heartily in front of him without a care.

Watching her, Tyrone suddenly felt hungry himself. Were those muffins really that good?

Tyrone grumbled, “At least try to eat like a lady. You’re a mess.”

Quintessa lifted her chin defiantly, “There’s the door. Use it.”

Who did Tyrone think he was?

Go along with him, and he’d tire of you quickly. Push back, and sometimes you’d get a rise out of him.

But strike the right balance, and his interest would never wane.

Quintessa intended to keep him on the hook; she was determined to make him fall for her, and to make him understand what it felt like to be tormented.

14:35

Tyrone slid onto the seat next to Quintessa, close enough to make her skin tingle. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“With all that food, aren’t you afraid of getting fat? Give me one.”

His hand landed casually on her shoulder.

Quintessa didn’t budge, her voice tinged with scorn, “Go get your own. Letting you crash here for the night was charity enough. You want me to feed you too? What, did the York family hit rock bottom?”

Tyrone had his lips curled into a smirk, while his eyes flicked over to the bowl of oatmeal with dates, “Feed me one of those dates,”

Quintessa slapped his hand away with a scoff, “How about I give you a date with the door?”

Tyrone’s lips, red and thin, were usually cold and detached, but now they bore a teasing smile, “Why would I leave? We haven’t finished rolling in the hay, have we?”

Quintessa bit back her irritation, “Mr. York, are you that broke? Can’t afford your own hotel, so you crash at my ‘fancy‘ place? And who allowed you to wear my tee? Can you even afford it?”

She glanced at Tyrone, who was decked out in her tee, and couldn’t help but laugh. Who would have thought Tyrone would one day be wearing a $13 shirt?