Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny ( Quintessa and Tyrone ) novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17 

Violet said, “It’s good that you get it. Really, the outcome depends on your own effort. It’s not necessarily going to be the worst case scenario.” 

Quintessa replied, “Mm–hmm.” 

Quintessa arrived at the destination Violet had given her, the swankiest business club in Emberbrook – Luxe Haven Club. 

The name was elegant, but the inside was a den of hedonism. 

Once she got there, Quintessa could only think of two words – burning cash. The crowd that frequented this place was the kind with money to burn, and they came here to do just 

that. 

A charming hostess led Quintessa to a private room, and as she pushed open the door, Quintessa heard someone singing. 

Quintessa’s mouth twitched. The producer saw her and said, “Ms. Young, you finally made it. You’re late today; time to pay the penalty with a drink. 

Quintessa smiled; there was no avoiding the booze, so she might as well drink up. She downed three shots of vodka in one go before greeting the director and lead actor. 

She noticed the lead actress, Marian, half–leaning on an investor, his hand creeping up the inside of her thigh. Marian was clearly annoyed but put up with it, her face plastered with a smile as she cooed in response. 

The director was chatting with the lead actor Quennel, and even if he saw what was happening, he pretended not to notice. 

Quintessa found it distasteful. Was this what her future looked like? She didn’t want that. 

Another investor, Hans, with beady eyes, had his gaze fixed on Quintessa, “Ms. Young, in person you’re much more beautiful than any photo. It’s been years since I’ve seen a beauty with such charm as you.” 

Quintessa smiled, “You flatter me, Hans. Just call me Quinn.” 

Her response seemed to please Hans. Half an hour later, with a stomach full of liquor and an unwanted caress on her thigh and behind by the investor, Quintessa “accidentally” spilled her drink on her dress, seizing the chance to escape to the restroom. 

The investor’s intentions were clear; he had made an unmistakable hint that the role was hers if she spent the night with him. 

Whether it was the alcohol talking or not, Quintessa felt a wave of self–respect wash over her. Hell no, she didn’t want to sleep with that old and ugly dude. She didn’t want to sell her body cheaply. She knew these transactions: once it happened, there would always be a 

1/2 

14:17 

second time. 

Quintessa didn’t care if her body was dirty or not, but she did care that it was given by her. mother.