Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Violet’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID and instantly, her demeanor flipped like a switch. A smile spread across her face as she chirped, “Director Frost, how are you?”

Moments later, however, her expression soured. The phone call ended, and that smartphone was teetering dangerously close to becoming a casualty of her iron grip. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Quintessa asked, “What’s up?”

Violet spat out with venom, “Damn it, the deal slipped through our fingers. No way, I’ve got to dig up what the hell happened.”

She hammered out call after call on her phone, and finally, she had her answers.

“Just got the scoop. Turns out the Lott family’s son recommended some new actress of theirs and poured a ton of dough into it. And just like that, our TV spot is toast.” Violet felt somewhat defeated. If that was the case, there’d be no way to turn the table; she ranted, “These business types, always sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

Quintessa’s eyes narrowed upon hearing that, “The Lott family? Is the name Jerome Lott?” “How’d you know?”

“He’s an acquaintance.”

“Who did he recommend?”

best

“Zenobia Abbott, last year’s best new actor.”

Memories of Jerome’s thinly veiled threats sparked a cold laugh in Quintessa. She thought, “You want to play dirty, Jerome? Try to steal my thunder? Well, game on.”

She wasn’t going to let this slide. Turning to Violet, who was still in fury, Quintessa uttered, “Get Manny over here to work his makeup magic. I’ve got someone to see.”

Violet asked, “Who?”

Quintessa’s eyes, usually the epitome of charm, were now sharp as daggers, “Going freaking debt collecting. Last night’s fun won’t be for free.”

Violet felt her irritation subside all of a sudden, saying, “Alright, I’ll make the call now.”

After calling Manny, Violet prodded, “Are you sure your acquaintance‘ can sort this out for us?”

Quintessa replied, “Let me put it this way if he can’t help, there’s no one in all of

–

Emberbrook who can. Once we’re in with him, we won’t have to worry about any more stumbling blocks.”

“Really?”

Enough talk, let’s move.”

An hour later, a car pulled up to the monolithle York Financial Group tower.

Manny asked, “Quinn, you sure about this? They run a tight ship here. Without their access card, you can’t even get through the door.”

Before he could finish, Quintessa was already out of the car and striding towards the entrance. Manny scrambled to catch up.

It was a mystery what Quintessa said to the security guard, but whatever it wan, it worked – they were in.

Once past the lobby, the receptionist intercepted them, “Miss, may I ask who you’re here. to see?”

Quintessa slid off her sunglasses, “Tyrone.”

The receptionist was clearly taken aback; she was here to see their boss, “Sorry, but do you have an appointment?”

Quintessa leaned in close, “Is to sleep together considered as an ‘appointment“?”

The receptionist’s cheeks flamed scarlet on spot, utterly unprepared for such a retort.

Laughter echoed from behind them. The receptionist, grateful for the interruption, turned to that person, “Mr. Franklin, this lady is here to see Mr. York, but she doesn’t have an appointment.”

“What business do you have with Mr. York?”

The young man who had approached was striking, his face chiseled, voice clear and magnetic, with an easy charm that belied the sharpness of his features.

Quintessa swept him a glance, “Here to collect a debt.”

He leaned against the reception desk, arms crossed, looking at Quintessa with a half–smile, “Now this I have to hear. Tell me, what exactly does he owe you?”

Towering over her, he was close enough for Quintessa to feel the imposing force of his

presence.