Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

With a cigarette pinched between her fingers, Quintessa playfully slapped the man’s cheek, her laughter sultry yet tinged with a touch of sleaze, “You know, a few years back, for a ciggie like this, I might’ve actually dared to crash at your place, hop into your bed.”

She swayed on her feet, about to leave, when her wrist was suddenly gripped, pulling her back. Twisting around, she found herself back against the ladies‘ restroom door, the world spinning even more, barely able to stand.

The man she had kissed said, “Spend the night with me, and I’ll make you the lead actress In “Whispers in the Wind“.”

His voice was hoarse, seductive, yet there was an edge of gritted teeth to it.

Quintessa blinked, “This some kind of casting couch deal?”

“Suppose so.”

Mysteriously mustering the strength, Quintessa shoved him away and turned to leave. After staggering a few steps, she stopped and looked back. The man she’d boldly kissed still stood there, “Why aren’t you leaving?”

“Where to?”

“The casting couch, remember? Let’s get a room, my treat.”

Quintessa couldn’t recall what had come over her. All she heard was his offer to make her the star of “Whispers in the Wind“, and she followed him.

As for that Hans, ha, who the hell cared about him now? She couldn’t bear the sight of that pig.

It was like a self–imposed exile, driven by her own desires; she’d rather leave with a stranger under the influence of alcohol than share his bed.

Her consciousness blurred, Quintessa really was drunk. She

t into the car and then fell asleep. When she woke up groggy in the hotel bed, the man was on top of her, making her uncomfortable, looking down at her, pinching her chin, “You can still sleep?”

Quintessa, still drunk, tilted her head and giggled, “You look so much like someone I

know.”

“Someone you know, who?”

Quintessa chewed on her finger, thinking for a while, “Can’t really remember.” Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

The man leaned down, biting her lower lip, his tongue tracing the shape of her lips, “Can’t remember the face or the name?”

With a soft moan, Quintessa replied to his comforting kisses, “Don’t remember either.”

14:17

What the heck?”

He gritted his teeth, “You don’t remember anything and yet say I’m someone you know?”

“Kissing you felt familiar.”

“Damn it. How many people have you kissed over the years?”

“Don’t know.”

Later, Quintessa only knew that her clothes had been torn off, and then there was no “then“. A hangover didn’t leave much room for memory. Being led away by a stranger and finding herself alive in the morning was a relief in itself.

When she finally woke up, she was naked, with a splitting headache and aching all over. She glanced aside; the pillow was indented, the air still carried a man’s scent, but he was long gone.

Quintessa got out of bed to find her clothes, including her lingerie, all torn to shreds. She cursed under her breath. That bastard! Ripping her clothes, he didn’t want her to leave.

Fury was about to make her explode. She had planned to play a trick on Hans the night. before, drug him, and by morning, at worst, she’d be lying next to him. But she hadn’t expected to be the one played.

Damn it, the allure of a man could lead her astray.