Although she couldn't see her rescuer clearly, Clara Grant suddenly felt a sense of peace. The terror and unease from moments before miraculously vanished.
The next second, someone grabbed Clara Grant's arm and pulled her forward. Behind them, the pudgy slob staggered after them but fell flat on his face after just two steps, likely due to having had too much to drink.
Clara Grant turned her head to thank the hero who had just saved her. "Tha—"
But the word died on her lips as she froze.
'Seth Quinn? How could it be him? This degenerate... he actually came to my rescue!'
Remembering how he'd acted at the hotel earlier, she felt incredibly uncomfortable with his hand gripping hers.
Clara Grant struggled, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp, but it was useless. He was too strong; the power gap between them was immense.
"Seth Quinn... Quinn, let go of me!"
But Seth Quinn completely ignored her, continuing to drag her forward.
As they passed a private room, Clara Grant seized the opportunity to grab the door handle, refusing to budge an inch.
Feeling the resistance, Seth Quinn finally stopped and turned to look back at her with a frown.
His eyes darkened when he saw her hand desperately gripping the doorknob. He let go of her, then brushed off his own hand with a look of disgust, as if afraid of catching a disease from her touch.
Clara Grant had just breathed a sigh of relief when he let go, but her relief soured when she saw him brushing his hand off in disgust. She couldn't help but sneer. 'Who is he trying to fool? A womanizer like him... I'm the one who should be worried about catching AIDS.'
With that thought, she pointedly brushed off the spot on her arm he had grabbed.
Her expression and gesture did not escape Seth Quinn's notice. His eyes turned terrifyingly dark and cold, and his voice was laced with ice and revulsion when he spoke. "What? Did I interrupt something important? Did I stop you from seducing your man and climbing into his bed?"
Clara Grant's eyes widened. 'Which one of his eyes saw me trying to seduce anyone? Is his brain capable of thinking about anything else?'
'Everything is about seduction and sleeping around. Does he think with his dick? And apparently, it's a 24/7 job!'
'And to think I was actually going to thank him!'
Before Clara Grant could respond, Seth Quinn's cold, mocking voice cut in again. "I have to say, your standards are surprisingly broad. You'll go for anyone from my level all the way down to... that. A disgusting, fat slob like him. You can actually bring yourself to kiss a mouth like that? To climb into a bed like that?"
A moment ago, Clara Grant had her back to him. When she had leaned in to whisper in the fat man's ear, from Seth's angle, it looked as if she were actively kissing the damn pig!
For some unknown reason, the very thought of her being so intimate with another man—of her draping herself over someone else—sent a wild, uncontrollable rage tearing through Seth Quinn.
The one thing he couldn't stand was a shameless woman trying to sleep her way into a man's bed.
Clara Grant laughed coldly to herself. 'What does he mean, "my level"? Is that his way of complimenting himself? This man is unbelievably shameless!'
Though she was sneering internally, her expression changed in a flash. The anger vanished, replaced by the same captivating, seductive smile she'd worn earlier that day. "My good sir," she began, her voice dripping with sweetness, "we're all adults here. When it comes to things like sleeping together, it's all about mutual consent. As vile as that gentleman back there was, I was willing! As for you... well, you're quite handsome, but that's no help if *I'm* not willing, now is it?"