The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 367

First, that woman had used him as bait for the piranhas. Then, she’d shoved him straight into the water herself. Sebastian had never been this humiliated in his life.

His gaze turned icy, and his movements quickened with a new, ruthless intent.

Meanwhile, Citrine was soaked from head to toe, the coppery tang of blood clinging to her skin in a way that made her want to gag. There was no way she could go outside looking like this.

She figured Sebastian wouldn’t be able to get out anytime soon, so, on a split-second decision, she darted into his room to take a shower.

Worried he might come looking for her, Citrine washed up as fast as she could—done in just over ten minutes.

Of course, there were no women’s clothes in the room. Rifling through the closet, she found only a man’s shirt.

It was huge on her, the hem hanging down almost to her knees. She was so petite that, on her, it looked more like a dress, leaving just her bare, pale legs exposed.

She’d just stepped out of the bathroom and was about to leave when she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Heart pounding, Citrine instantly ducked into the bedroom, hiding herself behind the door.

At that moment, Sebastian emerged from the pool, stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. His bare torso was all powerful lines and coiled strength, his arms tensed and ready—equal parts danger and allure.

His face was hard and unreadable as he strode toward the bedroom.

Citrine, hidden behind the door, held her breath. Her grip tightened unconsciously on the knife in her hand.

Sebastian took a single step into the room—and felt a sudden, blinding pain, cold and sharp.

He grunted, then glanced down at the girl in front of him. “You’re still here?”

Noticing she was wearing his shirt, Sebastian’s lips curled into a taunting smile. “What, you like my clothes that much?”

“Don’t move.” Citrine’s eyes were fixed on him, the knife pressed hard against his chest. The look on her face made it clear: one wrong move and she wouldn’t hesitate.

Sebastian’s expression didn’t change. “Be smart. Put the knife down. Or you’re not leaving this room tonight.”

All she had on was that oversized shirt, practically see-through when wet, and Sebastian’s bare skin was burning against hers. He held himself above her with one hand braced on the headboard, while his other hand closed tightly around her slender, pale throat.

His grip tightened, bit by bit. Citrine struggled, clawing desperately at his hand, her panic growing.

Her face was strikingly beautiful—lips as red as cherries, her expression twisting in pain and defiance. Sebastian found himself inexplicably exhilarated by the sight.

As she thrashed beneath him, their bodies pressed closer. Suddenly, Sebastian froze, noticing something different—something soft and yielding under his hands.

Abruptly, he let go.

He might not be a good man, but hurting a girl like this wasn’t something he could stomach.

“Pathetic,” Citrine spat, catching the faint flush on his ears and realizing what he’d just registered. She shoved him off and scrambled to sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Sebastian looked her up and down with a slow, deliberate gaze, then snorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Relax. It’s not like I’d ever be interested in a kid with a figure like yours.”