Love beyond the mask (Whitney)

Chapter 62

The man’s eyebrows arched with a hint of mischief, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Are you getting all

snarky becauen you’re jealous? Weren’t you the one planning to hit the road after a year?”

He rubbed his chin, wearing a faux expression of concern. Tve got to think for the kid and myself. The Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

baby gonna need a mom, and I can’t be without a woman by my side forever. I think Elaine’s pretty

decent

hitney harely had time to curse him out. Since when does a man die without a woman?

Pes words snagged her attention, drawing her gaze to her still–flat belly

The seed was sprouting, silently and unseen. It was the first time she considered the stepmother issue

after the baby would be born.

A pang of discomfort suddenly prickled her heart.

Was this man already planning to find the kid a stepmother, just waiting for her to pack up and leave?

Whitney clenched her fists. She always talked about keeping her distance, not wanting to fall too deep,

yet she hadn’t anticipated his pragmatism!

A stepmother for her child? Over her dead body.

Fear and loss flickered across her face, her eyes glistening with tears.

Ludwik paused, wondering if he’d gone too far with his harsh medicine.

She was young, still not fully grasping the gravity of the situation with the child.

His hand reached out, gently squeezing her ear as he asked indifferently, “What’s wrong?”

Whitney, sullen and annoyed, pushed him away. “I’m just a house worker, right? Don’t touch me.*

His gaze darkened with amusement.

Elaine swayed over, having caught the tail end of his flirty touch on Whitney’s hair.

Ludwik was usually frosty to the core. Elaine had only seen him ruthless in business, a cold–hearted

king with no regard for kin, even toward her and his close friends.

Rare was the moment he’d dote on a woman like that.

Elaine’s fingers tightened, her smile masking the storm within. “I’ve got the tickets! Oh, I forgot the

worker’s. Should I go back and get another?”

“No need to bother, thanks!” Whitney had no intention of soaking in a three’s–a–crowd hot tub.

The sight of them together was more than she could bear. She shrugged off his hand and bolted for the

open–air camp nearby.

“Bro, shall we…” Elaine’s eyes brimmed with hope.

The soft look Ludwik had given Whitney was long gone, leaving Elaine to doubt her senses. He

glanced at her indifferently, “Elaine, go ahead without me.”

And with that, he sauntered toward the camp.

Elaine stood rooted; her jaw clenched.

Today’s probing had revealed Ludwik’s interest in Whitney was deeper than she thought. But why

should this interloper matter? It was all a sham marriage, a contract. Did Whitney even understand her

place with Ludwik? Elaine’s lips curved into a devious smile, her eyes narrowing with a chilly glint, still

graced with a smile.

The camp was alive with a barbecue party, European style tables, and grills laden with an assortment

of sweet

Treats

The chill of the evening set in, and Whitney wrapped herself in a cozy apricot sweater dress, soft but

hardly warm enough.

“Bro, it’s so cold out here!”

A delicate voice drew Whitney’s attention. Beneath an umbrella, Ludwik lounged with his legs crossed.

Elaine was peeling a lychee, delicately offering it to his lips.

Ludwik frowned at Elaine’s gesture.

Elaine hinted with a smile, “Act your part, she’s watching.”

Ludwik turned to look.

Caught in his gaze, Whitney’s eyes momentarily froze. Rather than avoiding it, she coldly observed the

two. Despite attempting to feign indifference, her cherry lips were subtly tightened, and anger flashed in

her eyes.

Catching Whitney’s stare, Ludwik’s eyebrows raised. He casually accepted the lychee from Elaine.

Elaine feigned bashfulness, “Oh, you bit my finger!”

“Did I?”

The pleasure in his voice echoed in Whitney’s ears, creating a lump in her throat.

Ludwik glanced at Whitney’s ashen face, deliberately draping his coat over Elaine’s shoulders with

tender care, “You said you were cold; don’t freeze.”

“Bro!” Elaine’s voice quivered with feigned surprise. When his coat enveloped her, she blushed

theatrically, her eyes sparkling with feigned affection, “I’ll always remember this moment.”

He played along with a detached affection, “Silly girl.”

A short distance away, Whitney’s face paled as she realized she had nothing to shield her from the

cold.

A surge of bitterness swept through her like a gust of icy wind. He knew about her pregnancy and still

gave his coat to another woman!

What a philandering jerk.

Just a business arrangement, a fake marriage, and yet, why did it hurt so much?

With her head bowed, she suddenly stood and walked away, finding herself a grill loaded with spicy

skewers.

Struggling to breathe, she grabbed a handful and sat down on the grass to eat.

Her mouth burned, and she gulped down water.

Then something rolled against her foot and nudged her behind.

She turned to find Ludwik towering over her, his brows knitted in concern.

“What are you eating?”

“Are you blind?” Whitney retorted, tossing the corn cob he’d kicked over right back at his shins.

Grimacing with pain, he approached and crouched before her. Seeing her mouth full of chili, his face

darkened, “You’re feeding my child spicy food?”

Whitney’s retort was laced with sarcasm, “Oh, so you do remember you have a child. I thought you

couldn’t wait to start a family with Elaine. Perfect, the child can be all mine.”

His lips curled with suppressed anger, “What’s gotten into you? So fiery all of a sudden?”

He snatched the skewer from her hand, “You can’t eat this. Give it to me.”

10.00E

Whitney refused, angry. She knew better, moderate spice wouldn’t harm the baby. It was all a myth.

Her defiance flared, “I want to eat. I grilled these myself, and I’d rather feed them to a dog than to a

philanderer’s mistress.”

Taking a bite of the grilled bread, she fumed silently.

A mocking chuckle escaped him, “So now we have a little pup gnawing on bread?”

Whitney froze, her wide eyes reflecting her awkwardness. Her cheeks flushed with anger, yet oddly

alluring against her stunning features. Puffed with indignation, she snapped, “Stop laughing at me!”

The man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in silence as he watched her, like a feisty little kitten about to explode with fury. She was curled up on the grass, her soft sweater dress revealing a

stretch of ivory legs which she hurriedly tucked back under the hem of her dress at his gaze, leaving

only a glimpse of her alabaster feet.

His eyes lingered on the hem of her dress, and he felt an inexplicable thirst, his throat moving

restlessly.

With a sly smile, he said, “Alright, I won’t share the food with my mistress. Nanny, grill me some corn on the cob!”

He reached for the corn.

Whitney’s small hand swatted it away, her voice dripping with venom, “Didn’t you almost choke on the

lychee earlier?”

His eyes deepened, and he clicked his tongue, “Look at you, all sharp–tongued and sour. Where’s the

grace and poise of a young lady of your stature? What’s got you so upset, angry, and jealous?”

Whitney was left speechless.