With the door closed, the room, still simmering with passion moments ago, suddenly felt cold. It was as if we'd leapt from the scorching equator straight into the icy embrace of Antarctica.
Life has this dramatic flair, and it always exceeded your expectations. You deploy every trick in the book, thinking you've finally won, only to lose it all in the blink of an eye.
No, he never really had her. Quintessa was never truly his, not even in their moments of intimacy. That was her inviting him.
Tyrone thought he'd be furious, but he wasn't. Instead, he found himself laughing, which was a testament to his mother's naivety that clearly ran in the family.
He knew Quintessa wasn't the type to give in so easily. It was like a pie falling from the sky for him to getting such benefits from her after she ran into Alexander; it stunned him into forgetting her true nature.
There he was, lying alone on the massive bed, feeling like there was a thorn stuck in his throat. He couldn't swallow it, nor could he spit it out. It just sat there, hurting.
A boss and an employee. Have you ever seen a boss go to such lengths for an employee? Spending money like water, betraying friends, and now, even losing his dignity? Quintessa, she truly did a number on him.
Tyrone nodded with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, which remained dark and cold.
"Physical intimacy, huh? Fine, it's all good. After all this, why the hell should I be polite?"
Tyrone reminded himself not to be angry. What was there to be angry about? But damn, he felt used!
Quintessa pulled out her sunglasses from her bag and stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for the ground floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand stopped them.
Lifting her head, Quintessa saw Snow, who also sported sunglasses in the middle of the night as if to out-cool each other.
"Good evening," Quintessa greeted with a slight smile.
"Good evening," Snow replied, stepping in.
As the elevator doors finally shut, Snow leaned to the side, eyeing Quintessa and spotting the hickey on her neck. Feeling an indescribable frustration, he said, "I thought I'd have to wait until dawn, but it seems this guy was nothing special. Want to try me?"
Quintessa's expression remained unchanged, her lips curved in a faint smile. "Thanks, but no thanks. You're not my type."
Snow suddenly pulled Quintessa into an embrace. "But you're my type. What do I do?"
He sounded so serious, with his lips pursed.
Seeing Snow's handsome face through her sunglasses, Quintessa replied lightly, "Then you'll have to endure."
"Not into me, but Mr. York is more your taste?"
Quintessa shook her head, "It's different with him. He's Mr. Tyrone York. With him by my side, what resources can't I have? With him, it's not about liking or eating; it's different."
Snow removed Quintessa's sunglasses. "I can offer you things too."
Quintessa did the same, looking straight into Snow's eyes, unyielding. "But can what you offer compare to Mr. York?"
Snow laughed and let go of Quintessa. "I thought you weren't like this."
"Sorry to disappoint. This is who I am."
Snow reverted to his carefree demeanor. "How about mixing the big fish with the small fries?"
As they reached the ground floor, Quintessa left him with one last remark: "Sure, once I'm tired of feasting on the big catch and ready for a change of taste, I'll come looking for you."
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