Love beyond the mask (Whitney)

Chapter 10

you into some shady business at this club?”

Was he the type to pick locks, to extort and blackmail–was that how he had amassed his wealth?

He turned to her, a wordless glance that spoke volumes. This was his club.

What kind of man am I? The kind that could easily get you pregnant,” he retorted dryly.

Whitney was speechless.

ithout a sound, they both slipped into the room. It was spacious, and suddenly, Monica’s voice carried

over om the direction of the window.

an instant, Whitney was yanked into a wardrobe by the door by the man.

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. Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

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.