Love Beyond the Mask

Chapter 67

She pushed him away in a fluster, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “Okay, enough already.

I’ve been sitting here so long I’m practically boiling”

*Seems like our little Miss Denial has finally come around, huh?” The man’s thin smile was like a

spider’s web, and his gaze seemed to ensnare her like a little bee unable to resist his charm.

Whitney was beside herself, her face aflame as she looked up at the towering man; her heartbeat

skipped wildly out of rhythm.

There was no denying it–she was a little smitten.

A man like him–handsome, aloof, wrapped in an air of mystery and prestige, with a control that was

measured and a wisdom that was cunning–what kind of woman wouldn’t be?

The man, who had a lethal magnetism, had come to her aid in her moments of need. His identity was a This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

riddle yet his background was undeniably powerful.

The inner barrier Whitney had built was starting to crumble…

She turned to leave as her lips unwittingly curved into a smile, “All good now? So, I can go, right?”

But Ludwik swooped her up in his arms, “Consider this our first date. And maybe a little massage after

this?”

Whitney gasped.

Why did a simple massage sound so salacious when he said it?

Whitney, facing a portrait of mature mischief, found herself carried into a stylish suite.

Two therapists were already there waiting.

Ludwik set Whitney down gently–being pregnant, she could only get a foot rub.

He, on the other hand, stretched out on the bed with a male therapist attending to him.

He must be tired because he said no more. It seemed that he was always falling asleep quickly

whenever she was around.

Whitney quietly dismissed her masseuse and moved next to him, attempting to adjust his position.

Even in sleep, his brows were knitted in tension. She instinctively wanted to smooth them out but then

her fingers brushed against his silver mask. Her heart skipped a beat.

Now, getting this close was her best chance to unveil the mystery.

Just one look beneath the mask, and she would see his true face, discovering who he really was.

Her nerves were taut, but she hesitated not. She’d soon know if he was the real Ludwik, wouldn’t she?

She held her breath and lifted the mask, revealing a chiseled face with rising brows. But it was a face

completely different from Ludwik’s! A scar marred his eye socket, and Whitney froze in shock. He was

indeed not the man she thought.

“What are you doing?” The cold tone was followed by a grip on her wrist, and he pinned her down.

His eyes flashed with a dangerous red hue, only softening when he recognized her. Whitney’s hand

throbbed with pain, “L…”

“Getting this close while I’m asleep is dangerous. And did you ask for my permission?” His eyes were

icy, his anger palpable.

Whitney paled, her fear prompting a stammered explanation, “I just wanted to see you…”

“See what? I don’t like being looked at. Don’t ever be this rude again, got it?”

12:12

The stern warning that he gave intentionally surrounded her like frost.

“Okay…” Whitney’s voice was small with a tinge of hurt.

He let her go and lay back down, his gaze cold and oceanic. He knew the girl would try something like

this. He touched the mask on his face, hoping he’d managed the deception well. Noticing the silence

beside him, he wondered if he frightened her with his anger.

Ludwik turned to see the complex look on her face.

Nearly chuckling, he pulled her close and softened his voice. “What’s the matter? You don’t like the

scar?” he asked the question on purpose.

Whitney shook her head. It wasn’t that; she just hadn’t expected that he really wasn’t Ludwik.

She couldn’t tell if she was relieved or somehow disappointed.

“So you think I’m ugly?” he teased further.

Whitney was speechless, “I haven’t even seen all of you, but you’re not as handsome as I imagined.”

He shrugged, the rogue in him prominent, “Too bad, you’ve already agreed to give us a try. No returns

now.”

Whitney mused for a moment. Then she crossed her arms, ready to negotiate, “L, if we’re going to date

and try this marriage thing, aren’t you going to show me the real you? I don’t even know your full name,

your identity, or what you do… It all makes me feel so insecure…

Clever words from a clever tongue.

His lips curved in a smirk as he pulled her onto his lap, his voice a deep caress, “All that’s superficial.

Wouldn’t you rather feel the man right in front of you now, hmm?”

Whitney felt his wicked energy, not sure what ‘feelings‘ he referred to, her face turning a deeper shade

of red, “Put me down!”

He held her close, admiring her delicate beauty and whispering deeply, “Security, my dear, is

something I can provide. I’ll let you get to know me, and as for my identity, you’ll find out the day you

fall in love with me.”

Maybe she would no longer want to duel him to death and abandon his kid the day she fell in love with

him.

Ludwik smiled helplessly at the thought.

Whitney blinked, taken aback. Fell in love with him? She scoffed inwardly–was this man too full of

himself? Right now, she was merely attracted to him; love was still uncertain.

She pouted playfully, “Then you might pray for God’s help to let you have an immortal life.”

Ludwik gritted his teeth, “Looks like you need to be taught a lesson!”

Whitney tried to squirm away when suddenly his phone on the bedside table rang. The caller ID read

‘Elaine‘.

The phone rang persistently until Ludwik answered with a frown, “Elaine?”

Whitney wasn’t eavesdropping, but she couldn’t help overhearing Elaine’s panicked plea on the other

end, “Bro, could you come over? Mr. Lutz is being terribly inappropriate at the dinner…”

She didn’t spell it out, but Ludwik, a veteran in the business world, had seen it all before.

“Is it serious? Do you have someone with you?” he asked in a cold voice.

“My assistant’s passed out drunk. Bro, I didn’t want to trouble you and Whitney, but… Ah!”

The call abruptly ended.

Ludwik jumped to his feet, assuring Whitney before making a series of calls to his secretary and

bodyguard.

Finally, he escorted Whitney back to her room, saying, “I’ll go check on the situation. She did call me,

after all.”

12-12

Whitney nodded. It was right to check on things, but then she added, “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

His eyes warmed at that.

Whitney quickly clarified, “I just mean I’ll be here waiting. We’ll sleep in separate beds!”

He nodded and strode out swiftly.

But that swift exit turned into three hours, and Whitney couldn’t help but wonder what was taking so

long–the dinner was at the resort, wasn’t it?

Three and a half hours later, Ludwik returned.

Whitney was curled up in bed. She was lost in thought rather than sleep.

“Why aren’t you tucking yourself in?” he asked, standing by the bed. His shirt was tidy but slightly

wrinkled. Noticing her gaze, he explained, “Elaine got hurt. I drove her to get checked out and waited

for her IV until her assistant arrived. She even rushed me back, worried you would be mad. Said you

girls like this drink.”

Ludwik handed her a cup of drink, on which the label cheerfully proclaiming “Pregnancy Safe.”

But Whitney just glanced at his beaming face and didn’t take it.

The guy in front of her was probably clueless about women. Whitney didn’t see it as a big deal as well.

Still, she curled her lip playfully and tugged at his tie, “Mr. L, you should keep your social distance from

your sister. After all, I’m going to be your favorite soon, right?”

He was taken aback, a deep rumble in his throat as he moved closer to the edge of the bed, “We’re just

trying out this courtship and now you are claiming to be my favorite already, huh? How about a kiss

first?”

Whitney’s foot, through the sheets, pushed him away. And she rolled over, burrowing deeper into the

bed.

Seeing her refuse the drink, Ludwik tossed it in the trash.

It was a typically clueless guy move, but Whitney found it oddly satisfying.

Narrowing her eyes, she didn’t judge him harshly. She was just getting to know Elaine, and her feelings

were unclear.

How could a powerful woman be bullied to the point of injury at a party? Calling her boss for help in the

middle of the night seemed a bit like a cry for attention./