Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

It was as if she was saying, “yeah, that’s right, I did it on purpose; what are you gonna do about it?”

Tyrone didn’t touch his cutlery, and Quintessa asked, “Don’t fancy the dish? How about the sliced beef?”

Quintessa scooped up a few for Tyrone, who just felt his stomach churning at the sight, though his face betrayed no particular emotion.

This time, Quintessa wasn’t going to let Tyrone off the hook. As long as he didn’t pick up his utensils, she’d keep serving him.

The indignation of being used for a free night’s stay, being chewed up and humiliated- those grievances never dissipated from Quintessa’s heart. She was determined to get her own back from Tyrone.

Violet, watching from the side, furrowed her brow. She knew Quintessa well enough to know that she wasn’t this impulsive. Moreover, it didn’t seem like she was trying to cozy up to Tyrone. Rather, it seemed like she was trying to disgust him. What was she up to? Didn’t she know Mr. York was not to be trifled with?

Violet wanted to warn Quintessa but was afraid of being too abrupt, so she could only worry in silence.

Tyrone, looking at Quintessa’s ingratiating face, said, “So eager for me to eat, huh?”

The lilt at the end of his sentence was like a hook, itching at one’s heart, making at seemingly innocuous comment sound like there was some mischief afoot between them. Quintessa smiled, “Indeed, it’s all about whether Mr. York would do me the honor.”

Just when Quintessa was sure Tyrone wouldn’t touch the cutlery, he surprised her by picking it up – specifically, the cutlery she had used.

Tyrone’s hands, long and fair, even made the act of holding cutlery a sight to behold. He grabbed a slice of beef dripping with hot chili oil, and popped it into his mouth – his first time trying such a thing. Tyrone didn’t even chew, and just swallowed it down.

To Quintessa’s astonishment, Tyrone took a taste and then burst into uncontrollable coughing.

The spice hit him hard, and he coughed non–stop, his face turning a bright red. Quintessa feigned innocence, “Oh, you can’t handle spicy food? Why didn’t you say so? I’m terribly sorry; how embarrassing” All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Tyrone grabbed a glass of water and downed it in one; he then pulled out a handkerchief to dab away the moisture from his lips.

17-05

in actions that would seem awkward on anyone else, Tyrone managed to look effortlessly stylish.

Quintessa’s thirst for vengeance remained unquenched as she apologized again, 1 really am sorry, Mr. York I had no idea you couldn’t handle the heat. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Director Cooper, not daring to offend this money man, quickly chimed in, “Had we known, we’d have opted for the mild dishes, I apologize.”

Tyrone, watching Quintessa’s pretense, felt irritation rising. Deliberately, he said, “No matter, how can I refuse a dish served by a beautiful lady?”

The people in the room cast complicated glances at Quintessa, who nearly bit her tongue in frustration, “What are you saying? That if a beauty offers you a cup of poison, you’d drink it too?”

Tyrone let out a half–smile as he looked at her, “That depends on who’s offering it.”

Quintessa could hardly force a smile because Tyrone was flirting with her! She grabbed a nearby glass and took a swig, but the anger inside her refused to be quenched.

Beneath the table, Quintessa found Tyrone’s foot and stomped down hard.

She wore her almost 2–inch–heel stiletto, sharp as nails, and she didn’t hold back. The force of her stomp was like hammering a nail, and to make matters worse, Quintessa ground her heel in a bit more for good measure.