Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Violet noticed her voice was a bit off, “Quinn, you’re not thinking of bailing, are you?”

“Balling? You must be joking.”

Quinn had walked a long way to get where she was, with no room for retreat. No matter the cost, she was determined to get what she wanted.

Bruised and battered, even at the brink of death, she wouldn’t hesitate. As long as those sleazes who had wronged her and her mother got their comeuppance, nothing else mattered to her.

Violet’s heart suddenly softened, “Quinn, maybe you should just drop it. Come back home, or I could come to get you. If you lose this role, I can still help you land another one.”

Quinn gazed at her reflection in the mirror, undeniably beautiful. At twenty–five, she was at the peak of her blooming youth.

She ran her fingers gently across her face, “Another role? Without this Hans, there’s still others, it’s pointless.”

“Quinn.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let myself be shortchanged.”

After hanging up, Quintessa felt the buzz of alcohol setting in. She fished a pack of cigarettes from her purse and put one between her lips, but after rummaging around, she couldn’t find her lighter.

Stumbling out, Quintessa saw a tall figure standing by the men’s restroom. The light was dim; she couldn’t distinguish his face, and only see his lips move as if he was on a call.

Quintessa squinted, admiring his well–shaped mouth. It was irresistibly kissable, and there was something oddly familiar about him.

She approached, “Hey buddy, got a light?”

The stranger looked at her, and Quintessa looked up, slightly dizzy from the alcohol and her vision blurring; she tried to get a better look at his face but couldn’t make it out.

From a nearby private room, á man burst out cursing, “Damn it, I paid good money, and all I get is a saline bag? What the heck. I swear I’ll file a complaint about this!”

His clamor only added to Quintessa’s lightheadedness. She chuckled non–stop at the words, proudly jutting out her C–cup chest, “Hey, you think these are saline bags?” Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

A tiny flame sparked to life, brought close to her face. Quintessa leaned in to light her cigarette, “Thanks.”

“Want one?”

“No, I’m good.

As the flame died, Quintessa finally saw his lips clearly- thin and cold, their red hue bright and shiny, with a seductive, nameless allure that felt eerily familiar.

The alcohol in her veins seemed to morph into an aphrodisiac, heating her up, muddling her mind, and making her lose control.

Her mouth went dry with a sudden thirst as she focused on his lips. Then, acting on impulse, she pushed him against the wall and stood on her tiptoes to capture his lips with hers.

In the dimly lit restroom entrance, amid the background noise of arguments and curses, Quintessa kissed a man whose face she couldn’t see, and she knew it was madness.

But she was already a wild soul, and this was nothing new.

Better to take advantage of a handsome stranger than to be taken advantage of by that Hans. This vengeful logic deepened her kiss, and the familiarity…it was so strange. Had she kissed him before?

The scent of alcohol mingled with the woman’s perfume, intoxicating beyond the wine itself.

Lost in the moment, Quintessa eventually released him, “Consider that a thank–you. Tastes pretty good.”