Love beyond the mask (Whitney) novel Chapter 11

Stiffly, she backed out of the wardrobe, casting a wary glance at the door–thankfully, no one was there. 

It took a while before the man emerged, his casual attire starkly contrasting with his usual suits–more youthful and rakish. 

Whitney’s eyes darted around nervously as the man approached, studying her crimson face. 

His gaze playful, he teased without hesitation, “It’s natural, isn’t it? How else did you get pregnant?” 

Speechless, Whitney could not fathom why he would even mention it. She fled, feigning ignorance. 

Watching her retreat, the man’s handsome lips curved into a smile. 

In the hallway, Whitney cooled down until her stomach growled audibly. 

The man stepped out, hearing it, and his expression darkened. “Have you not eaten all day? 

Is this how you treat my child?” He glared at her belly solemnly. 

Embarrassed, Whitney glanced at her watch–it was already four in the afternoon. 

She hung her head, “Sorry, I forgot…” 

14:56 

Chapter 13 

With furrowed brows, he ordered, “Go eat first.” 

Whitney obeyed, following him to the Southern Elegance Club’s dining area, with its luxurious pavilions and water features. 

The imposing man personally ensured she was served a pregnancy–friendly meal, the manager nodding respectfully at his every instruction. 

Whitney, admiring his dizzying profile, wished she could see past the mask that obscured his features. 

“Will you be joining me for the meal?” 

“I don’t eat off the pregnancy menu.” No sooner had he finished speaking than a suspicious ‘gurgle‘ echoed. 

Whitney touched her stomach, sure it was not her, and shot a glance at the towering man. 

His face tensed slightly. 

Whitney could not help but giggle, her lips a rosy hue. “Have you not eaten all day either?” 

He shot her a look that warned against mocking him. 

Whitney stayed quiet, seated obediently, but nudged the dish towards him. 

Eventually, he took a seat opposite her. 

Dishes arrived one by one. Since they were not well acquainted, Whitney stole glances at his elegant dining 

manners. 

Suddenly, some vegetables–beans, corn–landed on her plate. 

Whitney frowned, “I don’t like these.” 

“The baby does,” he stated sternly. 

Whitney’s lips twitched. A barely one–month–old embryo fancied vegetables? 

Fine, she was just a tool. 

As she ate, disheartened, a woman approached their table and snapped a photo of Whitney and the man dining.