Love beyond the mask (Whitney)



Whitney stood there, baffled and frustrated, as the housemaid in front of her just waved her hands dismissively, speaking in what might as well have been gibberish to Whitney.

She was starting to think they were speaking some indigenous dialect from God-knows-where. Out of desperation, she began to gesture wildly, trying to communicate. After a struggle, she managed to fish out a phone from the maid's pocket, only to be stunned. It was an ancient flip phone, and the language on it was completely alien to her, let alone downloading any apps.

After borrowing a few more phones, with no luck, Whitney was at her wit's end. What kind of godforsaken place was this?

"Ma'am," the butler came by just in time, clearing his throat politely. "Mr. Lippert has prepared breakfast for you. Please, if you would join him now." Whitney pursed her lips and turned away.

The butler glanced at the housemaids, signaling them to leave, then said, "I apologize, ma'am. These maids are not very fluent. They only know how to say 'sir' and 'ma'am' in English. If you need anything, you can ask me."

"Ask you?" Whitney looked at him, unamused. "Can you lend me a smartphone?" The butler scratched his head, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I only follow Mr. Lippert's orders." Huffing, Whitney quickly made her way through the hallway.

She entered the dining room, decorated in a classic American style. Ludwik, donning an apron, gracefully presented the breakfast with his slender fingers.

Whitney scanned the table: there was oatmeal, avocado toast, scrambled eggs, sunny-side-up eggs, and a vibrant assortment of fresh fruits. Ludwik, removing his apron with a swift, charming motion, looked at her. "Whitney, let's see if my cooking skills have rusted, shall we?"

Whitney's patience was wearing thin. Husband? He's really settling into this role, huh?

She glared at him. Stripped of his apron, his tall frame was clad in a white tee, similar in color to what she was wearing, a casual departure from his usual button-up and slacks. The morning light and the white-themed decor made him look like a young man, his dark hair falling softly around his sharp features.

"Caught off guard by my handsomeness?" He teased, noticing her dazed look.

"I used to win your heart with my cooking. I believe I can do it again, silly. Don't just stand there, give it a try."

He picked up a piece of chicken with his fork and brought it to her lips.

Whitney snapped back to reality, almost choking on his audacity. "When have you ever won me over with your cooking?"

His smile deepened, "Remember how many times I cooked for you? You can't deny, my cooking is top-notch."

Those times? When they lived in Everwood Villa Estate, he was too busy to cook. The rare occasion she remembered was during their rockiest phase, on New Year's Eve when Natalie had asked her to come back. He had held her in the kitchen, teaching her to make a truffle chicken soup...

Unpleasant yet lingering memories surfaced, casting a shadow over her clear eyes.

Ludwik regretted his words immediately.

"Just eat," he said, placing the chicken in her mouth and sitting down to drink some water, his gaze softening. "I didn't do enough before, but from now on, I'll cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for you. I'll make sure you won't enjoy anyone else's cooking but mine. Sweetheart, what would you like for lunch? We have everything you could possibly want here." noveldrama

Whitney replied, "Just tell me, which deserted island have you brought me to?"

Ludwik put down his glass and cut into his sunny-side-up egg, elegantly placing half of it on her plate. "Try the egg, is it creamy enough? Eat up, and later, we'll go surfing."

Whitney knew he was being stubborn again.

She crushed the egg with her fork, her tone chilly, "Creamy? Mr. Lippert clearly hasn't tasted Bryce's cooking. Don't bother, my tastes have been refined by Bryce's cooking for a month. I can hardly stomach yours."

Ludwik's good mood was shattered by the mention of "Bryce," his clenched fists betraying his frustration.

Whitney, sensing his towering rage, kept her head down, focusing on her meal. Despite her disdain for him, she wouldn't let it ruin her appetite, especially when she needed her strength to escape.

"Hmm," he tried to contain his anger, watching her eat with reluctance. "You say it's hard to swallow, yet you seem to be enjoying it quite a bit. Why not admit it? You still crave the flavors I create."

Whitney scoffed, "Your cooking is ten times worse than Bryce's."

"I told you this morning, I don't want to hear that name again! Whitney, you're pushing me too far," Ludwik warned, his handsome face clouded with indignation.

Whitney met his gaze head-on, "I'd

have a normal conversation with you if you'd actually answer my questions You're rude to me, so why should I be polite? I'm haunted by thoughts of Bryce, and if you can't handle it, that's your problem. You said you wouldn't hurt me this morning. Go ahead, hit me if you want. We're on a deserted island; killing me would go unnoticed."

Ludwik was at a loss for words. Her defiance was laced with a venomous hate, her every word and gesture bristling with hostility.

It didn't matter. He had hurt her over and over, not expecting to win her back in such a short time. As long as they were isolated on this island, without any outside interference, he was convinced he'd find a way to her heart.

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"Besides, after last night, how could I ever bring myself to harm you?" Ludwik's lips curled into a devilish smirk as he sauntered over and leaned in, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. His gaze, sharp and dangerous, bore into hers. "But if you keep bringing up Bryce, I might just have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Whitney turned to glare at him, but before she could get a word out, he sat down beside her and, in a swift motion, scooped her up to sit across his

lap.

He wrapped his arms around her, and without a moment's hesitation, his lips found hers.

Whitney had just finished a glass of sweet milk, her mouth still tasting of the creamy sweetness, mixed with her natural scent and softness, which quickly sent Ludwik's thoughts into a shadowy depth.

He had intended only to silence her, yet as their lips moved in unison, memories of the previous night flooded back...

The tension in his body grew, his arms tightening around her waist, unable to restrain himself any longer.