Love beyond the mask (Whitney)

Chapter 43

The onlooking girls cheered enviously

L playfully smacked her bottom, causing her to blush and protest, “What right do you have to carry me?

I’m not going with you,”

He replied coolly, “Can’t I take care of my child? It’s in your belly, not someone else’s.”

Stunned by his audacity, Whitney found herself being carried back into the Royal One Club.

In the presidential suite, the butler had prepared a warm bath. L carried her to the bathroom, set her

down, and with a look of mock disgust, said, “You’re light as a cotton candy. Warm yourself up. If you

catch a cold, beware, I’ll have to discipline you!”

Shivering from the cold and slightly indignant, she disappeared Into the bathroom.

His assistant knocked, delivering the lady’s outfit he had ordered.

After her bath, Whitney realized she had nothing to wear. She called out, “Hey… Where are my

clothes?”

I was waiting just outside and cracked the door open slightly, “They’re with me.”

Irritated like 4 cornered rabbit, she retorted, “Why are you standing so close? Were you peeping?”

He opened the door further with a cold smile, “Guess how much I saw?”

Embarrassed and clutching her towel, Whitney exclaimed, “L, you’re such a scoundrel!”

With a chuckle, he steadied her. “Be careful!”

His tone turned sharp, “Who would want to peep you? The bathroom doesn’t have a non–slip mat. If Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

you fall, what about my child?”

Realizing her oversight, Whitney felt the familiar allure of his charm. Once again, she was caught up in

the care he seemed to provide

The sensation of being taken care of filled her mind. Whitney pouted and said, “Give me my clothes.”

L passed the clothes to her through the door gap, and she caught it. However, he hung on to it,

refusing to let

go

Whitney tried to pull it away but to no avail. Seeing her charming figure, L’s Adam’s apple throbbed

elegantly as he said, “Need help?”

Whitney responded by cnatching the clothes away and closing the bathroom door with a loud bang.

With a flushed face, she was once again stunned by how skilled he was at charming women.

Dressed and stepping out to the scent of ginger coffee, she found L in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up,

preparing the drink. His actions were a stark contrast to his usually arrogant demeanor, which surprised

her.

Trying to ignore the flutter in her chest, she turned her attention to the room.

By the time L came out of the kitchen with the ginger coffee, he immediately caught her scanning the

room like a detective.

Placing the ginger coffee on the bedside table, he was instantly by her side with a mocking grin.

“Looking for traces of other women?”

Whitney spun around, and her retort tinged with sarcasm. “Even if there were traces, wouldn’t a man

like you know how to cover them up?”

He lifted her effortlessly onto the bed. “It seems you need to be put in your place!”

She reached for the comforter, feigning criticism, “Is this bed even clean?”

Annoyed, he tossed back. “It’s not. Sniff the middle of the bed, and you’ll find another scent.”

Curious, Whitney did as he said but only found his masculine, musky scent. Flustered, she quickly sat

up, only

to have him lean over and suggest. “There are more direct ways to check, you know

“How?” She asked innocently.

He took her hand, guiding it towards the buckle of his belt, his eyes brimming with seduction, “How do

you

think?”

Whitney pushed him away, her face burning with embarrassment. “L”

He smirked, “Aren’t you the one who’s suspicious?”

Suddenly, his expression turned cold. Tve been alone here for days, not even a fernale fly in sight. Why

haven’t gone home? Because someone’s made me angry!”

Whitney looked around, his suite was indeed spotless and meticulously tidy, devoid of any feminine

touch.

“What’s been eating at you these days, throwing hints and suspicions? Are you really convinced I’ve

been chasing other women?” His grip on her chin was firm, a clear sign he was still riled up about the

other day’s spat

Whitney pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to nod in both defiance and fear.

But did she truly believe that?

Confusion clouded her thoughts as she bit her lip.

“Speak up!” He snapped, growing impatient.

His closeness was overwhelming, his scent and warmth enveloping her–it was all too much, especially

on the bed, that conjured uncontrollable thoughts, making him uncomfortable.

Hearing his voice grow husky, Whitney immediately scooted away.

But he was domineering, scooping her up effortlessly into his embrace and reaching for the ginger

coffee. “Drink this before it gets cold.”

Whitney scrunched her nose. “It’s too

spicy, I don’t want it.”

Her complaint carried a coquettish undertone.

His gaze deepened, a tickle in his throat; he threatened, “If you won’t drink, I’ll have to feed you.”

“And you can imagine just how,” he added with a provocative edge.