Page 66 of Brutal Heir

The woman gestured to a small trunk, which one of her attendants opened. It was filled with lingerie. A second trunk held shoes, and a third, purses.

With a flourish, the women filed out, leaving us alone.

I crossed my arms over my middle. “What just happened?”

Sebastian brushed past me into the closet. He revealed a distracting view of his tight ass in black Calvin Kleins as he shrugged out of his robe.

I knew it.

He selected a pair of slacks and stepped into them.

As his long fingers zipped and buttoned them, he asked, “What do you mean?”

I threw an arm toward the racks. “Did you just tell her you’d take all these clothes?”

It was my job to know the cost of reputable designers, and there was easily over a hundred thousand dollars' worth of high-end merchandise in the room.

He threaded a black leather belt through the loops. “You’ll need an acceptable wardrobe for your new position at the House of Diamanti. And I insist you only wear Italian designers.”

He unfolded a soft gray cashmere sweater and pulled it over his head.

Still vulnerable in his oversized shirt, I marched to one rack and found the cheapest item: a Prada black tracksuit with nylon stripes and a cropped hoodie. Behind the rack, I quickly changed into the sweatpants and hoodie before coming back.

Sebastian, now wearing dress shoes and fastening a heavy silver Rolex around his wrist, glanced at me as I rummaged through the shoe trunk for sneakers.

I laced up the white Prada sneakers I'd found. “I already told you I don’t want the job. And the only reason I’m taking these clothes is because you stole mine.”

With as much authority as I could muster, I straightened and faced him. “I’d like my purse, please.”

Sebastian chuckled and ruffled my hair. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

My eyes widened. “This isn’t funny, Sebastian. I want to leave.”

He winked. “I think I know exactly what you want, Sabrina, and it isn’t to leave.”

I inhaled sharply through my teeth.

The arrogance of this man.

There was confidence, and then there was sociopathic confidence.

Sebastian clearly leaned toward one side of the spectrum.

“Don’t presume to tell me what I do and don’t want. Now, are you going to let me leave?”

His eyebrow arched. “I’m not stopping you.”

“You have my purse.”

He gestured with his head to the main room. “The safe is open. It has been all morning.”

The humiliating truth of his admission hit me.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that, Sebastian?”

“It takes one to know one, Sabrina.”

I stumbled backward.