Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

James approached, ready to greet her, but the sight of Quintessa’s thunderous expression clamped his words back inside.

Quintessa seemed to not even notice James as she strode past, her aura fierce enough to flatten everything around her.

James wiped the sweat from his forehead, muttering to himself, “She didn’t have a spat with Mr. York, did she? What’s the damage this time?”

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After Quintessa left, Tyrone was leisurely straightening his tie in the dressing room. He’d been looking forward to this evening. Ever since Quintessa returned to town, years. mundane life had started to splash up some interesting waves,

James knocked and entered, catching sight of the lipstick mark on Tyrone’s cheek. Remembering the stormy Quintessa he had just encountered, he quickly bowed his head, ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“Mr. York.”

After adjusting his tie, Tyrone checked his reflection in the mirror, noting the bite mark still lingering on his chin and traces of lipstick Quintessa had left behind. His shirt was slightly rumpled – to anyone else, it would’ve looked like the aftermath of a passionate encounter. But that was far from the truth.

Tyrone wiped away the lipstick with a handkerchief, his lips curling into an inscrutable, mischievous smile. His eyes were lazy, his voice cool, Talked with Laura?”

James nodded, “Yes, she agreed. She’ll talk to the screenwriter about the script, making

sure there are no intimate scenes.”

“Intimate?” Tyrone glanced sideways.

James felt a chill down his spine and quickly added, “No physical contact at all. Director Cooper promised she wouldn’t let Ms. Young know about the script adjustments.”

James understood Tyrone well. The man had a strong sense of territory; anything within his realm, from objects to people, was his alone to touch.

Once ready, Tyrone noticed a pair of Quintessa’s earrings on the table and pocketed them casually.

James’s mouth twitched at the sight. He remembered there was a dress belonging to Ms. Young in the office as well. What kind of quirk was this? He had never noticed before.

With Quintessa’s grim expression earlier and Mr. York’s seemingly good mood now, what was really going on between the two?

On the way back to the office, curiosity got the better of James, and he asked, “Mr. York, if

you’re keen on helping Ms. Young, why not pick some blockbuster productions for her?”

Tyrone’s response was curt, “Why should I do that for her?”

Huh??? Suddenly, James felt he couldn’t read his boss at all. Wasn’t the norm to shower a woman with everything she desired in pursuit? Why was it different with Ms. Young?

James wanted to ask more but thought better of it and kept silent.

Tyrone fiddled with Quintessa’s earrings, his lips curving up, their color deepening from her kiss. He was clear as day about Quintessa – that woman was a vixen through and through.

If he handed her resources on a silver platter, let her appetite gorge itself and rise to stardom too quickly, she’d turn on him in a heartbeat, ungrateful, shameless and cold.

He hadn’t totally had her, hadn’t relished enough the intimacy, and how would he grant all her wishes?

She was not just any woman – she was his prey, unique and challenging. To win her over, he needed to be strategic, to be patient.