Chapter 114
Quintessa fluttered her lashes with a teasing glint in her eye. “Of course, I’ve seen my fair share of men. I’ve got skills you’ve yet to witness.”
Tyrone couldn’t help but notice that Quintessa always liked to stir him up with her words. Other women tried their best to come off as pure as the driven snow, but not her. She relished in portraying herself as a sly temptress.
At first, such talk would annoy Tyrone, but after hearing it so often, he started to think it was all just big talk – which was too deliberate and too forced.
Still, hearing Quintessa put herself down like that, Tyrone felt uneasy. Not because he believed she was that kind of woman, but because he felt she didn’t need to belittle herself.
Tyrone retorted, “Alright then, I’m game to test out these skills of yours, just as long as it’s not all talk.”
Quintessa paused, then shoved Tyrone with a huff, “Ugh, not in the mood to deal with you today.”
But Tyrone pulled her back, “That’s not up to you, is it?”
She scoffed coldly, “Right, as if my consent matters to you, Tyrone. You barged into my room without it, remember?”
Quintessa teased, while plucking at the fabric of Tyrone’s shirt, “And you’re wearing my clothes, Mr. York. Aren’t you afraid of being caught?”
“What’s there to fear? You’re the only witness,” he replied nonchalantly.
Tyrone’s hands moved to undo Quintessa’s robe. He had waited all night, and it was time to indulge.
Quintessa didn’t resist, but commented coolly, “Well, it’s that time of the month. If you don’t mind painting your lance red, be my guest.”
Tyrone cursed under his breath.
Grinding his teeth, he retorted, “I’ve always had a taste for the bold. You know that, right?”
As he yanked off Quintessa’s robe, he was determined to discover the truth.
Suddenly.
“Quinn, the director needs you. He wants to go over the script with you.”
Manny’s voice boomed from outside the door, which was loud enough to wake the entire floor.
Tyrone’s expression darkened. This was the second time his moment had been interrupted by that
obnoxious kid at the door.
Seeing Tyrone’s frustrated scowl, Quintessa couldn’t help but laugh, and she felt her mood lifted slightly.
She pushed Tyrone away, “Looks like Mr. York’s taste for the exotic isn’t so appetizing after all.”
As she picked out clothes from her trunk, she changed right in front of him, almost as if to challenge him. As if saying, come on then, if you dare.
Tyrone was fuming, “Script talk? In the director’s room?”
Quintessa slipped into a dress, taking her time, “That’s right. Or would you rather accompany me? I
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