Chapter 107

Under Tyrone, a bath towel Quintessa had brought from home was laid out, which was an indication of his disdain for the less–than–stellar accommodations of this place and his refusal to trust the hotel’s linens.

Tyrone ignored Quintessa’s sarcasm as if it were nothing; without budging an inch, he just said while furrowing his brow, “Why’re you back so late?”

His voice was tinged with complaint, blame, and an unsettling familiarity

-as if he were the lord of this domain.

They say beauty grows under the soft glow of lamplight, becoming ever more enchanting.

Quintessa had to admit that the more she looked at Tyrone, the handsomer he seemed. But with each passing moment, she felt her resentment growing.

had a vial of acid in her hand right now, she

support her weary body.

tasted, were

chest, Quintessa looked evidently exhausted; her eyes were bloodshot from the previous long night of shooting. She spoke with a hint of disdain, “Geez, you sound like a neglected housewife. Got

ached, literally, from

for an excuse to see Quintessa for days but couldn’t find the right reason or muster the courage to face her, perhaps out of

to merge them into a

had jumped at the chance

felt his teeth aching even more. She really had a way with words–or rather, a way of getting under

easy on her, considering her struggle, but upon seeing her, he found any softness he once

“I’m not the type to

a game, huh? Why didn’t you say so earlier? Why the false modesty? You’re not the casual type, but I can be quite the opposite when I

Tyrone, causing him to

licking her lips seductively, “Mr. York, however you want to play, I’m game. I’ll make sure you

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