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Novel Catalog
Chapter_28
Whitney couldn’t help but marvel at the oddities of this man—keeping a cat while being allergic to it. It seemed like a bizarre kind of masochism, or perhaps, the behavior of a true loner.
Her thoughts must have been too transparent because his icy gaze turned on her, sharp and piercing. “Are you insulting me?” he asked.
“Of course not. It was a compliment,” Whitney quickly retorted, though her voice held an undercurrent of teasing.
“Complimenting my looks?” he shot back with a raised brow, clearly amused.
Whitney couldn’t help but be speechless for a moment, glancing at his lips that curved smugly. Thick-skinned much.
“Well, this entire place with its pink-themed decor wouldn’t happen to be…” Whitney began, her voice trailing off with a knowing smirk.
Taryn, ever the observer, teased, “It was Sir Ouldn’t also be…”
“Enough,” Whitney replied, her smile a little more playful now.
It was then that Whitney realized just how much this man spoiled his little cat. He seemed to have an odd fondness for the pet that he didn’t even name, which made Whitney feel a little envious of the little “cat princess.”
Though his face was indifferent, Whitney found herself imagining what he would be like as a father. She shivered at the thought, not quite knowing whether to be amused or horrified by the idea. She absently touched her tight stomach, as if to steady herself from wandering too far into that thought.
“What unseemly thoughts are you harboring?” The man’s teasing voice broke through her musings. Leaning casually against the door frame, his gaze was sharp, but playful.
Whitney flushed, quickly collecting herself. She moved into the room with the dogs, introducing them in an attempt to diffuse the moment. “Hey, kitty, these are Spark and Blaze. They’ll be staying here for a bit, so let’s all get along, okay?”
It felt odd speaking to the cat in such a manner, but Whitney could see the little thing was already taking a liking to her dogs. She even made a show of making them “shake hands,” as though it were an important ritual.
L, however, did not seem as amused. Whitney tilted her head up, her curiosity piqued. “What’s your cat’s name?” she asked, genuinely interested.
Taryn laughed lightly, “Sir hasn’t given the kitty a name yet.”
Whitney’s eyes widened in mock indignation. “Your daddy is so lazy, not even giving you a name? Alright then, I’ll name you.” Her voice softened, almost sweet, like a little girl playing with a toy. “Let’s call her Olive. It’s noble, don’t you think?”
The man raised a brow, his lips curling into a small smirk. “I think Whitney sounds nice too. She’s quiet, unlike some girls who talk all the time but have no substance.” His words were casual, but his gaze lingered a bit too long.
Whitney turned towards him, her curiosity piqued. “What’s your name, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s see if it lives up to your…character.”
He chuckled softly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Before he could respond, Taryn brought over a cat teaser. “Sir, why don’t you try playing with the kitty? It’s okay from a distance!”
The man took the teaser, his stiff posture making it clear he wasn’t used to such activities. He stood far off, holding the toy awkwardly as the little cat batted at it.
Whitney couldn’t help herself. She teased, “If you’re allergic, why keep a cat?”
In response, the man flicked the teaser and shifted it so that the fluffy end brushed her chin. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear in a near-whisper. His voice was smooth, dangerously charming. “I’m not allergic to you, little kitty.”
Her breath caught, stunned by the suggestive nature of his words. He was comparing her to a kitten. How dare he!
Before she could react, he pulled back, his demeanor playful but with a certain allure that was difficult to resist.
Whitney, left in a haze of emotions, couldn’t bring herself to look at the cat teaser anymore. His teasing had left her flushed, both embarrassed and strangely charmed. How did he do that? How did he make it so hard to be angry at him?
Later that evening, back at the villa, Xandra suggested Whitney take a bath and mentioned that Sir was hungry. She asked if Whitney could prepare a simple meal.
After freshening up, Whitney realized that she did want to express her gratitude to him tonight. After all, she could cook. A woman like her had to know how to prepare at least a few dishes.
In the kitchen, she worked quickly and efficiently, preparing a plate of spaghetti. She set it on the table with a flourish, announcing, “Mr. L, dinner is served.”
Her hand, delicate and pale, offered him the fork. He glanced at it and then took it, his eyes briefly meeting hers.
Sitting across from him, Whitney cradled her face in her hands, looking lost in thought. He poured a glass of red wine, his gaze flicking to her, almost as if he could read her mind.
Whitney sighed, her worries spilling out in a quiet voice. “Mr. L, did you know? The landscape painting was bought by Simon, so now I can’t cozy up to my nemesis. The jewelry competition in October is under his control. I’m really in trouble.”
Her words hung in the air as she waited for his response.
