Love Beyond the Mask novel 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 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! And don't play the victim. If 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. "I'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.