fantishu
Chapter 30
Despite the provocation, Tyrone’s face remained impassive.
Quintessa’s lips curling disdainfully; she thought he was all about restraint – until she attempted to retract her foot and found it trapped. Tyrone’s legs were like a vise, clamping down on her calf with an immovable determination.
And as if that wasn’t audacious enough, his hand had the gall to wander up to her thigh, an unapologetic trespasser in broad daylight.
Quintessa’s body shook with rage. What was this?
To him, she was nothing but a plaything, available at his whim. She reached out and twisted his hand hard, but rather than recoiling, he doubled down, his hand venturing under her skirt with impudent stealth.
With actions so lecherous, Tyrone still managed to look every bit the refined gentleman.
Quintessa’s gaze turned icy as she snapped her head up, but suddenly, a mocking smile graced her lips. Did he think her indignation was for show? Let him touch; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
She turned her attention to the director and producer, effectively dismissing Tyrone’s
presence.
The more she antagonized Tyrone, the more he thrived on it. The best tactic was to ignore. him completely.
Quintessa was generous with her smiles to everyone else. When she wasn’t trying to seduce, her smile was infectious and genuine, a beauty that commanded attention.
But in Tyrone’s eyes, a shadow began to form.
The producer was quite taken with Quintessa. A little tipsy, he was loose–lipped with his compliments, “Ms. Young, your eyes are captivating – so expressive. Rare in this show
biz.”
Tyrone interjected, “Cosmetic surgery.”
The producer, flustered, tried again, “Your nose is so well–defined.”
Tyrone cut in, “It’s augmented.”
The producer continued, “Your breasts are sensational.”
Tyrone smirked, “All thanks to the implantation.”
Quintessa’s grip on her glass tightened, trembling with restrained fury. She wanted to throttle him, to shout the unspoken truth of their intimacy, challenging him to wait for what would come.
17.05
Violet couldn’t stand the tension. Quintessa was her charge, after all. She forced a smile, Well Mr. York, you’re quite the joker.”
Tyrone’s reply was cold, “I wasn’t joking.”
The sound of glass on wood echoed as Quintessa placed her glass down, her smile radiant under the lights. Before the silent audience, she threw down the gauntlet, To figure out whether they are implanted, why not find out for yourself tonight, Mr. York?”
Tyrone leaned back slightly, “I just might.”
The simmering broth on the table bubbled away. The room fell into an eerily silence, no one daring to make a peep; the atmosphere was chilled to the bone, with only the pot of broth offering any warmth. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!
Violet, desperate to escape the tension, concocted a reason to take Quintessa out, “Excuse us, Quinn and I need go to the restroom.”
“Yeah.”
As they rose, Quintessa’s foot remained caught in Tyrone’s trap. He didn’t budge, causing her to stumble toward him. Tyrone didn’t help, and just let Quintessa crash straight into his embrace.
It was then that Tyrone’s arms encircled Quintessa’s waist, his hands caressing her through the fabric of her dress, “Ms. Young, so eager to fall into my arms?”