Love beyond the mask (Whitney)

Chapter 44

Whitney’s cheeks were flushed with anger as she took several gulps of the drink.

L quirked a grin, asking. Tastes bad, huh?”

“Yes,” Whitney lied defiantly, although, in truth, it was not bad at all–he was quite the chef.

His brows arched quizzically, and he leaned closer, “Let me be the judge of that.

Instead of tasting from the glass, his lips found hers in a sudden kiss.

“Hey!” She protested, words muffled. How could he do this again? Whitney struggled, but his absence

had clearly affected him, his kisses growing more fervent, Gradually, her resistance faded, her grip

crumpling the

fabric of his shirt.

His back was a landscape of strength, which Whitney dared not touch as her cheeks blushed even Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

deeper. Finally, he pulled away to catch his breath, looking at her intently. “Now, you can explain

properly.”

How could he? After teasing her, he had the nerve to ask for an explanation?

Pushing him away, Whitney stood up, her voice tinged with annoyance. “There’s nothing to clarify. Mr.

L, your personal phone line was answered by some other woman. That alone tells me all I need to

know about you. We may be in a contract marriage, but while I won’t meddle in your colorful private life,

don’t you dare flirt with me. Got it?”

The atmosphere in the room turned icy.

He stepped forward, his presence chilling. “Me? Colorful private life?”

“Isn’t that so?” Whitney went on, feeling a need for clarity. “Eight days ago, I called you in the

afternoon, and a woman answered.”

Frowning, he pulled out his phone and shoved it into her hands. “Check for yourself,”

Whitney took the phone, surprised by his boldness. Guilty men would never hand over their phones so

easily. yet he was utterly indifferent.

Feeling a bit awkward but determined not to lose face, Whitney scrolled through the call log.

Eight days back, she checked once, and the record was gone.

Whitney smirked, “You deleted it, Mr. L. Or maybe that woman did.”

“No matter who did.” He pushed her against the wall, his voice laced with mockery. “If I really had

someone else, why would I hide it from you? Who do you think you are? Besides, I don’t have any

secret chambers for lovers.”

A sting of pain shot through Whitney’s heart.

How dare he?

Who did she think she was?

The hurt in her voice was palpable as she pushed him away. “You’re right. I’m nobody. I’m just a tool to

you.”

“Cut the drama,” he retorted, his tone hard yet softening as he looked into her eyes. “If you want to be

someone to me, then try harder. He leaned in, whispering with a mix of arrogance and tenderness,

“And just so you know, I’m not interested in women… but if I had to choose, it would be you. You slept

with me, and you have to be responsible for this, understand?”

Whitney blinked, slowly comprehending his meaning.

Her cheeks burned with a sudden realization–was she the only one for him?

Her ears reddened as she stammered, “Don’t talk nonsense to me. I don’t understand it anyone’s

benefiting, it’s you…”

“If you want to benefit, I’m at your service,” he said, his lips curving into a wicked smile.

What a waste of breath, Whitney huffed, still upset about the mysterious phone call. No sincerity, no

explanation.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. “All this fuss over a phone

call. You’re just jealous, aren’t you? I have to admit it’s quite fun to see you jealous. What would you do

if I really had other women in this house?”

Whitney’s face tightened. T’m not jealous. You can have whoever you want.”

“Really?” He breathed out, tickling her skin.

Whitney shoved him away, losing patience. “Can’t you ever stop, Mr. L?”

“Never” L declared, leading her by the hand to the bedside cabinet, which he opened to reveal some

medical supplies. He rolled up his trouser leg to show a significant wound on his knee.

Surprised, Whitney asked, “Got this the other night?”

He replied coldly, “Would I be injured if not for you? Ungrateful thing, tend to it.”

Whitney rolled her eyes at his self–inflicted tantrum but obediently applied the antiseptic and wrapped

the wound with fresh bandages, her fingers gentle and careful.

As she worked, he asked out of the blue, “Did your stepsister steal your artwork?”

She looked up, surprised he knew. “Are you offering to help?”

“Do I look like I’m over it? Do I look like I want to help?” His voice was icy

Whitney pouted, her own grievances still not addressed. He still had yet to explain the phone call or the

woman involved.

In frustration, she blurted out, “Then I’ll just have to go see that Ludwik, my dear rival. He’s got the

power, he seems interested in me. Maybe I’ll just sacrifice myself.”

His demeanor turned frosty. “Ludwik interested in you? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he’s quite the catch! Though he’s a scoundrel at heart, a one–time investment wouldn’t be a

loss,” Whitney taunted.

His lips thinned in displeasure. “And how would you make this one–time investment?”

and

“That’s something a ladies‘ man like you would know best. We’re just in a business arrangement, you

have no say over me.”

“Don’t you dare!” He pulled her closer, his voice a mix of threat and amusement. “Ludwik wouldn’t give

you a second glance, especially not a pregnant woman like you.”

“How do you know? Are you friends with Ludwik? L. could you possibly introduce us?” She asked

eagerly. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his coat. “Enough. You’ve caused enough trouble tonight. Just

sleep here.” Whitney blurted, “And where will you go? Not coming home?”

“I’ve got plenty of secret chambers for lovers to choose from, don’t I? I’ll just pick on,” he snapped

back.

She had wanted to invite him home to appease Natalie, but now, seeing his continued indifference,

Whitney lost her temper. Then go find someone else; it’s none of my business!”

Watching her feign indifference while clearly upset, he smiled crookedly, not bothering to soothe her,

and closed the door behind him.

Outside, Nolan, who had just finished his tasks, felt like he had missed out on a fortune.

“Ludwik, you’ve been holed up here for days, giving us hell. Parker said Whitney was here! Wow, she

calmed your down already? That Whitney is something else. What did you two get up to in there?”

Looking mischievously, Nolan waited for an answer.

And the man glanced at him, his voice icy, “Check my phone for a deleted call on October 1st.”

Confused. Nolan was left with more questions than answers.

“Parker” The man announced as he strolled up to the elevator.

Parker was slouched against the wall, looking up with an air of impatience, “What now? Another

headache?”

Inside the suite, Whitney was fuming, having just hurled a pillow at the front door.

The doorbell chimed

She stood up, her face a mask of embarrassment. Was it him returning?

Peeking her head out the door, Parker, with a playful glint in his eyes, said, “Whitney, it’s me. There’s

no need for more pillow–throwing.”

Whitney was mortified.

Parker held out an upscale paper bag, the aroma wafting around, “You didn’t have a decent dinner, did

you? Have a little more to eat.”

Whitney was pleasantly surprised, “Parker, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t mention it. Mr. L picked it out, said you might be stewing and that staying up would only make

you hungrier,” Parker said with a look of cultured grace.

Whitney’s face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.