Love Beyond the Mask novel Chapter 13

She nudged open a sliver of space, and through it, she spied Monica storming out, her face etched with impatience. The man inside pursued her, his voice a smooth caress, "Monica, am I not your first man? Have you really forgotten me in the arms of Simon?"

"What more do you want from me?"

"You weren't so cold when my family's fortune was the talk of the town. Now that I'm bankrupt, you've climbed the corporate ladder to become the CEO of Skye Gem Ltd. Cut me some slack."

Annoyed, Monica thrust a check at him. "Don't come looking for me again!"

"Hey, don't be like that. Give me a kiss before you go. You're getting more beautiful every day." The man lunged forward, enveloping Monica in his arms.

"Get off me!" Monica struggled, dashing towards the door.

Whitney cautiously took out her phone inside the wardrobe and captured several shots of the room's setup and the entanglement unfolding before her.

Considering Monica's innocent facade before Simon, Whitney doubted he knew about her colorful private life.

A smirk grazed Whitney's lips.

Outside, the two had departed.

Whitney pocketed her phone, but something felt off. She spun around, coming face-to-face with a man's solid frame almost plastered against her back.

It dawned on Whitney how cramped the wardrobe was; the man had been holding her waist when she entered.

And as she leaned forward to take photos, her back had pressed against an area off-limits.

She suddenly felt his heat, the masculine scent and forceful breathing hot on the back of her neck.

"Sir... Sir?"

The petite woman turned to speak, her breath a fragrant whisper lingering on his Adam's apple.

His throat bobbed, and with a hint of severity in his jaw, he instructed, "Don't move just yet."

"Huh?" Whitney's face flushed with embarrassment, his voice raspy and unsettling.

Lowering her gaze, her cheeks burned with realization.

Stiffly, she backed out of the wardrobe, casting a wary glance at the door—thankfully, no one was there.

It took a while before the man emerged, his casual attire starkly contrasting with his usual suits—more youthful and rakish.

Whitney's eyes darted around nervously as the man approached, studying her crimson face.

His gaze playful, he teased without hesitation, "It's natural, isn't it? How else did you get pregnant?"

Speechless, Whitney could not fathom why he would even mention it. She fled, feigning ignorance.

Watching her retreat, the man's handsome lips curved into a smile.

In the hallway, Whitney cooled down until her stomach growled audibly.

The man stepped out, hearing it, and his expression darkened. "Have you not eaten all day?

Is this how you treat my child?" He glared at her belly solemnly.

Embarrassed, Whitney glanced at her watch—it was already four in the afternoon.

She hung her head, "Sorry, I forgot..."

With furrowed brows, he ordered, "Go eat first."

Whitney obeyed, following him to the Southern Elegance Club's dining area, with its luxurious pavilions and water features.

The imposing man personally ensured she was served a pregnancy-friendly meal, the manager nodding respectfully at his every instruction.

Whitney, admiring his dizzying profile, wished she could see past the mask that obscured his features.

"Will you be joining me for the meal?"

"I don't eat off the pregnancy menu." No sooner had he finished speaking than a suspicious 'gurgle' echoed.

Whitney touched her stomach, sure it was not her, and shot a glance at the towering man.

His face tensed slightly.

Whitney could not help but giggle, her lips a rosy hue. "Have you not eaten all day either?"

He shot her a look that warned against mocking him.

Whitney stayed quiet, seated obediently, but nudged the dish towards him.