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Novel Catalog
Chapter_11
Whitney clenched her jaw, her fists tightening under the table as Roselyn’s words echoed in her ears. She could feel the temperature in the room shift, an oppressive tension settling over them. The man across from her hadn’t moved, but she could feel his eyes harden beneath the mask, and the quiet fury in his posture was unmistakable.
“Roselyn, you should know when to stop,” Whitney said, her voice steady despite the rising anger in her chest. She had dealt with this woman before—through years of rivalry, of subtle backhanded comments, and now, this direct assault.
But Roselyn seemed to thrive on confrontation. She leaned in closer, her mocking grin widening as she caught sight of the man’s mask. “Oh, don’t worry. I know how to read the situation. You’re a thug. Or at least you look the part. And she’s no better. What kind of woman would be involved with someone like you?”
The man across from Whitney finally spoke, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “You have a lot of nerve.” His tone was calm but carried an unmistakable threat.
Roselyn froze for a second, her eyes narrowing. She hadn’t expected him to speak, much less in such a commanding tone. But she quickly recovered, her grin sharpening as she raised her phone. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid of being seen? Let’s see what your face really looks like, shall we?”
Before she could press the record button, the man’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist with alarming speed. The smile slipped off Roselyn’s face as she looked up at him, startled by his strength and the sudden intensity in his demeanor.
“I suggest you put that away,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightened just enough to send a warning through her.
Roselyn’s defiance faltered for a moment, but her smirk returned as she jerked her wrist free. “Whatever, thug. I know who you are, and I’ll expose you. Let’s see how long your little game lasts.”
She turned to Whitney, her expression one of pure disdain. “You’ll regret this. It’s only a matter of time before everyone knows you’ve attached yourself to some lowlife.”
Whitney stood up, her own fury bubbling to the surface. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Roselyn. Keep your insults to yourself and leave.”
Roselyn didn’t reply immediately, clearly weighing her options. But when she finally turned to leave, she shot Whitney one last glare. “We’ll see how long you keep up this charade. Enjoy your little meal while it lasts.”
As Roselyn disappeared, the tension in the air seemed to lift slightly, though the unease still lingered between Whitney and the man. She could feel his gaze on her, and it made her uneasy. The last thing she wanted was for Roselyn’s accusations to stick—especially when they were so far from the truth.
“I’m sorry about that,” Whitney muttered, sitting back down at the table. Her hands were still trembling, but she forced herself to calm down. “She’s just trying to get under my skin.”
The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, he picked up his fork again, his movements deliberate, and then he looked at her. “You don’t need to apologize for her. People like that will always find a reason to talk, especially when they’re afraid of someone like me.”
Whitney blinked in surprise at his words. “Afraid of you?”
His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “The world has a funny way of fearing the unknown. I’ve learned to let them talk.”
The way he said it, with such casual confidence, made her wonder just how much he had to deal with in his life. Who was this man behind the mask? What was it about him that made people like Roselyn so afraid?
Before she could ask, he looked up at her again. “You should eat. You’re not doing yourself—or the baby—any favors by starving.”
Whitney hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He was right, after all. She hadn’t eaten all day, and it was long past time to put the rest of her worries aside. Just for now.
As she picked up her fork again, she noticed him watching her, his gaze a little softer, but still inscrutable. Despite the chaos of the last few minutes, there was something about his presence that seemed to settle her nerves, if only a little.
She glanced up at him, her curiosity piqued once more. “What about you?” she asked, trying to make the conversation less awkward. “What are you afraid of?”
His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked away, his attention shifting back to the meal in front of them. “Nothing that matters,” he replied, his voice cold but not unkind.
Whitney couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. But before she could probe further, the silence stretched between them, and the man, still enigmatic, went back to eating.
For now, that would have to be enough.
