His words seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
At this moment, South Grant finally noticed something was off about him.
His eyes were bloodshot, and the veins on his arms faintly bulged as if he was holding something back.
South only needed one glance to understand.
Nathan Foster, a man with almost obsessive self-control, this could only mean one thing: he was under the influence of something unclean.
South dared not delay any longer. As Nathan turned to leave, she hurried to find a hiding place.
However, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the people chasing her.
The area was surrounded by them!
South didn't have the luxury to think much, grabbed Nathan Foster, and pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.
She saw Nathan's sharp, eagle-like eyes become dark like an abyss in that instant.
This man had a dangerous aura.
At that moment, he turned the tables and pushed South back into the corner.
The people chasing her searched the area but, finding no one, left.
South sighed in relief, pushed Nathan Foster away, and wiped the corner of her lips.
"We're even now."
Having said that, she turned to leave.
Except, she missed the danger lurking in the man's eyes.
The next moment, Nathan Foster pressed his lips against hers, carrying her back into the hotel she had just fled from.
And South couldn't break free.
His arms were strong, whereas she was rather frail.
They moved unimpeded all the way, and when they reached Nathan's room, South was stunned.
This room...
She would remember that room number even if she turned into ashes!
This was the room she mistakenly entered in her past life, which meant the person who took advantage of her back then was Nathan Foster!
Before she could process it, Nathan threw her onto the bed.
South looked at Nathan approaching her and rolled away to the side, looking at the man on the verge of losing his mind in panic.
"Uh...well, I'm a guy. You wouldn't be that desperate, right?" she blurted out.
She always dressed like a boy, with short hair, a T-shirt, and jeans.
Before she took the blame for Fiona Grant, no one had discovered her identity.
Nathan's eyes darkened suddenly, sharp as a knife, as if dissecting her layer by layer.
Facing such a Nathan, South felt immense pressure.
Nathan wasn't interested in men and had a severe case of mysophobia.
But now, Nathan couldn't be judged by normal standards; he was a beast gradually losing his mind.
At this point, even if given a dog, he'd take it.
"Ugh, bad analogy, why comparing myself to a dog," South mentally cursed herself.
She had to escape before he completely lost his sanity, or else it would be no different from her past life.
South decided to risk it; after all, in her past life, she'd seen and felt him countless times before, one more wouldn't matter.
South quickly took off her T-shirt, patting her chest, saying:
"Look carefully at my flat chest! I'm carrying a thing too! If you can't hold it in, I must be the top, and you the bottom!"
Cold sweat dripped from her forehead.
Thank heavens she was a late bloomer, getting over her boyish figure at her twenties.
She was seventeen this year, her chest was as flat as a board.
Nathan looked at South; her skin was very fair, slightly thin, and her waistline was excellent. If it weren't for her bold undressing, Nathan wouldn't think she was a boy, only that she dressed androgynously.
At this moment, the flatness of her chest made those two red spots particularly noticeable.
No girl, no matter how flat-chested, would undress in front of a strange man.
What Nathan didn't know was that South had been intimately taken by him countless times in her past life; even reborn, she felt no pressure undressing in front of him.
Only this way could she make him believe!
South watched his throat move up and down, afraid to even breathe.
What if he was truly desperate?
It seemed like she'd have to reveal her trump card.