That night, Jennifer found herself dreaming again of the hotel room—the faceless young body, their intense entanglement that felt like floating on clouds, only to plummet into an abyss, sinking into an even deeper dream.
She had no idea how long she slept, but when Jennifer Sullivan woke up, she saw Quentin Tyler already awake, sitting up with her phone in his hand, looking at something.
Startled, she quickly sat up and snatched the phone from him. "What are you doing with my phone?" she asked nervously.
"Why are you so tense? What are you afraid I’ll see?" Quentin said with a hint of disdain.
"Nothing," Jennifer replied, checking her phone. Aside from two missed calls, there was nothing else. Quentin hadn’t unlocked her phone, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Quentin shrugged. "Emil
