Chapter 112
The thing was, it was a woman’s dress–a woman’s dreas that she had worn.
Tyrone had gone off the deep end, completely bonkers, wearing someone else’s hand–me–downs.
With a nonchalant backward slump, Tyrone drawled, “Booking rooms is your thing, isn’t it? The hotel you chose that night wasn’t bad, I must admit, and I was quite satisfied.”
Quintessa chuckled, rolling up her sleeves with a smirk, “Oh, finally coming clean, are we? I thought you’d play the shrinking violet forever, and never own up to it. Well, since you’ve opened up, let’s have a proper chat.”
The emphasis she put on ‘proper chat‘ signaled she meant business.
Tyrone squinted his eyes; his devilishly charming face made him look like he was asking for a punch, “Have I ever denied it? Really?”
Though he never confirmed it, he certainly never denied it either.
Quintessa, unable to hold back any longer, kicked Tyrone away with a scoff. “Ha! Since you’ve owned up, let’s talk about the money for that room. I’m not going to fleece you–let’s split it, $263. Since you’re so broke that you can barely afford underwear, I’ll knock off the change. Just give me $260,”
Before Tyrone could respond, Quintessa sized him up with a curled lip, “Damn, you’ve become even more miserly over the years, not even willing to shell out for a room.”
Glancing at her outstretched palm, Tyrone grabbed it and pulled her hand down towards him suggestively, “Tsk, but as I recall, a lady offered to treat me that night.”
Quintessa, yanking her hand back, stood up with a face so cold that it could freeze over.
“Yeah, I said I’d treat you, but only on the condition that I landed the lead role in ‘Whispers in the Wind. Where’s that leading role now? You had a free night with me, and I haven’t even pressed you for that. All I’m asking for is half the room cost, and you’re balking about it?”
Tyrone released her hand, and leaned back with his hands behind his head, “Broke.”
Quintessa burst out laughing.
“Get lost.”
After a couple of laughs, Quintessa’s face turned stormy, and she pointed dramatically at the door as if to say, ‘get out or I’ll sic the dogs on you!’
Tyrone wrapped his arms around Quintessa’s waist and rolled with her onto the bed, “So you do want to roll with me.”
Quintessa ground her teeth in frustration. It had been three years, and she hadn’t realized just how shameless Tyrone could be. To everyone else, he was untouchable, never sparing a word or a glance as if it would be charity. But now, she was convinced that he had lost his mind.
Gritting her teeth, she seethed, “Tyrone, can you be any more shameless?”
As Tyrone began to undo the buttons of her blouse with his teeth, he asked rhetorically, “Shame? What’s that?”
Pinned down by Tyrone, Quintessa was helpless as her blouse began to come off. “Tyrone, if you dare
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move another inch, I swear I’ll end you.”
Tyrone kissed her collarbone, “What’s the rush? Wasn’t the lead role in ‘Whispers in the Wind‘ always yours?”
Quintessa scoffed, “Me, Quintessa, I’m 25 years old, and I’m not some gullible infant in your belly. You can’t fool a toddler or even a fertilized egg with that line. You think you can still fool me?”
Tyrone couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Quintessa to come up with something like deceiving a fertilized
egg.
“If you don’t believe me, why not give Violet a call? She’ll tell you whether I’m telling the truth.”
“Get your claws off me.” Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.
“Not letting go.”