Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Jerome squinted at the vision before him, Quintessa, sheer beauty personified.

He was no stranger to pretty faces; women had always been plentiful in his life, some even more stunning than Quintessa. But none had ever captured his soul quite like she did. One glance and he’d find himself ensnared, haunted by her image night and day.

Quintessa was even more gorgeous than she had been three years ago, the naive. greenness gone, replaced by a seductive bloom. Like a poppy in the wild, intoxicating and fatal, one knew of its poison and yet the heart’s frenzied desire was undeniable.

Otherwise, Jerome wouldn’t have kept tabs on Quintessa, wouldn’t have come here to corner her.

Never had he felt such an urgent craving for a woman. He wanted to strip her bare and had sex with her, right here, right now.

Quintessa sneered, that was the real Jerome behind the mask, hypocritical, repulsive.

She looked at him, contempt written all over her face, a cold, mocking smile on her lips, “Jerome, do you really think I didn’t see you that night three years ago when Rachel drugged me? You knew and did nothing to stop it, didn’t even warn me. You just wanted to ‘rescue‘ me once the drugs took effect, to take advantage, to have me owe you, to play with me like a toy. Do you take everyone for a damn fool?”

Miranda, always paranoid, suspecting Quintessa of seducing Jerome, had no idea it was Jerome who had been plotting after Quintessa all along. From the moment Quintessa first met Jerome, she knew he was bad news.

Surprise flickered across Jerome’s face but vanished quickly as he reached out to tilt Quintessa’s chin, “You’re so much more interesting than Miranda. What do you say? Stick with me, I could make you the lead in every scene.”

Quintessa’s lips twisted in a sneer, “Oh, Jerome, for someone like you.” She abruptly grabbed his tie, yanking it tight around his neck, pushing him back against the wall with a solid thud. Quintessa continued unhurriedly, “Really disgusts me.”

She tilted her chin, “I might be cheap but I’m not desperate. You, I wouldn’t give the time of day.” Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Jerome leaned casually against the wall, unresisting, a smirk playing on his lips, “Wouldn’t give the time of day, huh? But Tyrone is different, right?”

Quintessa raised an eyebrow, “Exactly.”

A cold light flashed in Jerome’s eyes, and he uttered, “Then wait for it. Sooner or later, I’ll have you.”

Quintessa retorted, “Sure, I’ll wait. If you live long enough to try.”

14:1761

In the evening, Jerome attended a party with Emberbrook’s elites, the venue teeming with beauties, each trying to outdo the other in short, glamorous dresses.

His gaze swept over the room until it landed on the man in the seat of honor. Delicate features, slightly upturned eyes, thin red lips, and a fair complexion that was neither feminine nor soft, but exuded an air of nobility and breathtaking talent. Such a man was unforgettable once seen.

Women were at his beck and call, one massaging his shoulders, another his legs, one pouring his drink, all serving him like reverent disciples, neat and orderly, no one daring to step out of line.

While carnal desires ran rampant in the rest of the room, he remained untouchable, a solitary, noble bloom.

At any given time, a son of the York family, like him, made everyone else mere background players.