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Chapter_44
Whitney’s cheeks flushed with irritation as she took several large sips of the drink.
L couldn’t help but grin, asking, “Tastes bad, huh?”
“Yes,” Whitney lied, though in reality, the drink wasn’t bad at all. He was quite the chef, after all.
His brows arched quizzically, leaning in closer. “Let me be the judge of that.”
But instead of tasting from the glass, his lips found hers in a sudden, unexpected kiss.
“Hey!” she protested, her words muffled against his lips. How could he do this again? Whitney struggled, but his absence seemed to have affected him greatly. His kisses became more fervent, and gradually, her resistance faded as she found herself gripping the fabric of his shirt.
His back was a landscape of strength that Whitney dared not touch, her cheeks burning even more deeply. Finally, he pulled away to catch his breath, gazing at her intently.
“Now, you can explain properly.”
Explain? How could he? After teasing her so, 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 another 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 flirt with me. Got it?”
The atmosphere turned cold and tense.
He stepped forward, his presence chilling. “Me? Colorful private life?”
“Isn’t it?” Whitney continued, needing to make things clear. “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 was taken aback by his boldness. A guilty man would never hand over his phone so easily, but here he was, completely indifferent to her scrutiny.
Feeling a bit awkward but determined not to lose face, Whitney scrolled through the call log. Eight days back… She checked it once, and the record was gone.
Whitney smirked, “You deleted it, Mr. L. Or maybe that woman did.”
“No matter who did,” he replied coolly, pushing her against the wall. His voice was 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 sharp pang of pain shot through Whitney’s chest.
How dare he say that?
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 his gaze softened. “If you want to be someone to me, then try harder.”
He leaned in closer, 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 now you have to be responsible for this, understand?”
Whitney blinked, slowly piecing together what he meant.
Her cheeks burned with a sudden realization – was she the only one for him?
Her ears reddened, and she stammered, “Don’t talk nonsense to me. I don’t understand it… anyone benefiting, it’s you…”
“If you want to benefit, I’m at your service,” he said with a wicked smile curving on his lips.
What a waste of breath. Whitney huffed, still upset over the mysterious phone call. “No sincerity, no explanation.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, his eyes gleaming with a playful gleam. “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, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, his breath tickling her skin.
Whitney shoved him away, losing patience. “Can’t you ever stop, Mr. L?”
“Never,” he declared, leading her by the hand to the bedside cabinet, opening it to reveal medical supplies. He rolled up his trouser leg, showing a significant wound on his knee.
Surprised, Whitney asked, “Got this the other night?”
He replied coldly, “Would I be injured if not for you? Ungrateful thing, tend to it.”
Whitney rolled her eyes at his self-inflicted tantrum but obediently applied antiseptic and wrapped the wound with fresh bandages, her fingers gentle and careful.
As she worked, he asked out of nowhere, “Did your stepsister steal your artwork?”
She looked up, surprised that he knew. “Are you offering to help?”
“Do I look like I’m over it? Do I look like I want to help?” His voice was as icy as before.
Whitney pouted, her own grievances still left unaddressed. He still hadn’t explained the phone call or the woman involved.
Frustrated, she blurted out, “Then I’ll just have to go see that Ludwik, my dear rival. He’s got the power, and he seems interested in me. Maybe I’ll just sacrifice myself.”
His demeanor immediately turned frosty. “Ludwik interested in you? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, he’s quite the catch! Though he’s a scoundrel at heart, a one-time investment wouldn’t be a loss,” Whitney taunted.
His lips thinned in displeasure. “And how would you make this one-time investment?”
“That’s something a ladies’ man like you would know best. We’re just in a business arrangement, you have no say over me.”
“Don’t you dare!” He pulled her closer, his voice mixing threat with amusement. “Ludwik wouldn’t give you a second glance, especially not a pregnant woman like you.”
“How do you know? Are you friends with Ludwik? L. could you possibly introduce us?” she asked eagerly.
He stood up abruptly, grabbing his coat. “Enough. You’ve caused enough trouble tonight. Just sleep here.”
Whitney, now frustrated, shot back, “And where will you go? Not coming home?”
“I’ve got plenty of secret chambers for lovers to choose from, don’t I? I’ll just pick one,” he snapped.
She had wanted to invite him home to appease Natalie, but now, seeing his continued indifference, Whitney lost her temper. “Then go find someone else; it’s none of my business!”
Watching her feign indifference while clearly upset, he smiled crookedly, not bothering to soothe her, and closed the door behind him.
Outside, Nolan, who had just finished his tasks, seemed to have missed out on a fortune.
“Ludwik, you’ve been holed up here for days, giving us hell. Parker said Whitney was here! Wow, she calmed you down already? That Whitney is something else. What did you two get up to in there?”
Looking mischievously, Nolan waited for an answer.
The man glanced at him, his voice icy. “Check my phone for a deleted call on October 1st.”
Confused, Nolan was left with more questions than answers.
“Parker,” the man said as he strolled toward the elevator.
Parker, slouched against the wall, looked up with impatience. “What now? Another headache?”
Inside the suite, Whitney was fuming, having just hurled a pillow at the front door.
The doorbell chimed.
She stood up, her face a mask of embarrassment. Was it him returning?
Peeking her head out the door, Parker, with a playful glint in his eyes, said, “Whitney, it’s me. There’s no need for more pillow–throwing.”
Whitney was mortified.
Parker held out an upscale paper bag, the aroma wafting around. “You didn’t have a decent dinner, did you? Have a little more to eat.”
Whitney was pleasantly surprised. “Parker, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t mention it. Mr. L picked it out, said you might be stewing and that staying up would only make you hungrier,” Parker said with a cultured grace.
Whitney’s face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
