Chapter 107


    Under Tyrone, a bath towel Quintessa had brought from home wasid out, which was an indication of


    his disdain for the less–than–ster amodations of this ce and his refusal to trust the hotel’s


    linens.


    Tyrone ignored Quintessa’s sarcasm as if it were nothing; without budging an inch, he just said while


    furrowing his brow, “Why’re you back sote?”


    His voice was tinged withint, me, and an unsettling familiarity


    -as if he were the lord of this domain.


    They say beauty grows under the soft glow ofmplight, bing ever more enchanting.


    Quintessa had to admit that the more she looked at Tyrone, the handsomer he seemed. But with each


    passing moment, she felt her resentment growing.


    If she had a vial of acid in her hand right now, she was convinced that she’d throw it at him without a


    second thought.


    Leaning back against the wall, Quintessa let the solid structure support her weary body. She would


    never again show weakness in front of Tyrone.


    Some humiliations, once tasted, were enough.


    With arms crossed over her chest, Quintessa looked evidently exhausted; her eyes were bloodshot


    from the previous long night of shooting. She spoke with a hint of disdain, “Geez, you sound like a


    neglected housewife. Got an itch? Take a left outside, pick any actress–from the crew you fancy, and


    have at it with whoever you please.”


    Tyrone’s teeth ached, literally, from irritation.


    He had been looking for an excuse to see Quintessa for days but couldn’t find the right reason or


    muster the courage to face her, perhaps out of a sense of anxiety.


    Finally, two days ago, Kevin had acquired Spark Entertainment and BrightStar Media, nning to


    merge them into a single entertainment conglomerate. Kevin intended to inspect the Zion City film


    complex with thoughts of investing.


    And so, Tyrone had jumped at the chance toe himself.


    But hearing Quintessa’s words now, he felt his teeth aching even more. She really had a way with


    words–or rather, a way of getting under his skin.


    He had thought that perhaps he could go easy on her, considering her struggle, but upon seeing her,


    he found any softness he once felt turned back into anger.


    Tyrone had considered sweet–talking her, but her sharp words changed his mind. “I’m not the type to


    fool around, but tonight, I’m all about you.”


    Quintessa’s lips curled into a smirk, “Looking for a game, huh? Why didn’t you say so earlier? Why the


    false modesty? You’re not the casual type, but I can be quite the opposite when I choose to be.”


    With swift steps, Quintessa pushed Tyrone, causing him to lie askew on the bed.


    She straddled him, with her hands braced on his chest, licking her lips seductively, “Mr. York, however


    you want to y, I’m game. I’ll make sure you feel right at home, satisfaction guaranteed.”


    Tyrone’s breathing grew heavier, and his hands found her waist.


    Noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the redness in them, he frowned; as he was about to


    speak, Quintessa suddenly rolled off him.


    Laughing, Quintessa said, “Oops, I forgot. I’m dirty, you know. Didn’t you hear the rumor about our


    crew? That I’ve slept with every guy on set? Someone like me is hardly a match for Mr. York. We don’t


    have the right props here. How about we switch to a more adventurous motel?”


    The more Tyrone heard, the more ufortable he felt. He knew he had overstepped that day, but it


    was out of anger.


    The fire rising within Tyrone slowly subsided, and he said with a furrowed brow, “It’ste. Let’s just


    sleep.”


    Quintessa scoffed, “Depends on what you mean by ‘sleep.”Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.