Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Chapter 118

There was no one else in the dressing room. Quintessa was removing her. Makeup and changing clothes, ignoring Tyrone completely. This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Tyrone, holding Quintessa’s phone and browsing through it, asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Quintessa replied with a noncommittal shrug, “Nothing much, just not used to it.”

“Not used to what?”

Quintessa glanced at Tyrone’s lips. “Well, usually I’m the one who kisses you first. You catch me off guard with a kiss, obviously, I’m not used to it.”

“What, you want to kiss me back?”

Suddenly, Quintessa commanded, “Bow your head.”

Tyrone frowned. “What for?”

Without warning, Quintessa hooked her arm around his neck and playfully nibbled on his lip: “There, that’s more like it, isn’t it?”

Tyrone couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s not too bad this way.”

Quintessa sneered internally, she was slowly, but surely, wrapping Tyrone around her finger.

“Didn’t you say you’d be back in the evening?”

Tyrone looked at Quintessa’s casual yet alluring look, twirling a strand of her black hair. “What, aren’t you happy that I came back early?”

Quintessa nodded, “Yes, you’ve ruined my chances with movie star Jonathan, how could I be happy?”

Tyrone pulled on her hair slightly, “Tsk, mention him less to me.”

Quintessa yanked her hair out of his grasp. “Speaking of which, you came back early because you’re afraid of calling me ‘Grandma, right?”

Tyrone reached out to lift Quintessa’s chin. “Scared? Why should I be afraid, if not for afraid that you would miss me.”

Quintessa laughed it off.

“Fine, since you’re so afraid, say ‘Grandma‘ for me.”

Tyrone’s face darkened.

Quintessa, teasingly looking at him, hooked her hand around his neck and pinned him against the vanity, a mischievous grin on her lips: “No? If you don’t say it, perhaps later you can call me ‘Auntie‘ instead!”

Tyrone clenched his teeth. “I should’ve known you were up to no good!”

Quintessa, this wicked woman, always had a way of flirting.

Gritting his teeth, Tyrone spat out, “Quintessa, you’d better swallow that slyness of yours, or even if you do become my auntie by marriage, I won’t hesitate to take you both down.”

Quintessa rolled her eyes. “As if you could stop me.”

Tyrone squeezed Quintessa’s face hard. “Then ahead and try me.”

The following day, Quintessa learned from the director that all her intimate scenes with the King had been rewritten.

Quintessa cursed under her breath: Damn you, Tyrone!

After wrapping up the day’s shoot, she stormed back to the hotel: “Tyrone, are you playing dirty tricks? What gives you the right to change my scenes?”

Tyrone, who was playing a mobile game, responded lazily, “What does it have to do with me? I don’t know a thing.”

Tyrone was at the critical moment of the game, about to defeat a boss. Suddenly, the phone was snatched from his hand, the game ended with his character dying in an instant.

Quintessa tossed the phone aside with a huff. “You dare to do it but not own up?”

Leaning back, Tyrone cradled his head in his hands, a picture of innocence. “Of course, why would I admit to something I didn’t do? But I must thank the director. Somehow, he just understands me so well, doesn’t he?”

Quintessa felt a headache and pointed to the door, “Get out, and make it quick. The farther, the better. Don’t let me see your face again.”