Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Chapter 155

Chapter 155

Ludwik’s tone was cool and emotionless, and Whitney could not comprehend his emotions.

Her heart raced as she jerked back, feeling like it might leap right out of her throat.

Why was he in the kitchen?

Ludwik eyed her suddenly downcast face, saying nothing as his long fingers covered her pale ones. He expertly took the spatula to sauté the morels in the pan, skillfully bringing the water to a boil.

Whitney was a mess of nerves, unable to comprehend why he would still want to be near her.

Trapped in his scorching embrace, unable to break free, she did not know how to escape.

“The water’s boiling,” he reminded her, his voice nasal, hinting at a cold.

“Oh,” Whitney replied stiffly, reaching for the pot.

The man assisted her, pouring out the water with ease.

Natalie’s silhouette lingered at the kitchen entrance, her laughter peeking through.

Turning her head, Whitney started to grasp what he meant.

Pretending to go along with it, she did not dodge him anymore, and he instructed, “Add just a bit of oil.”

She reached for the oil bottle, her pinky finger instinctively raised in a delicate and graceful manner, pouring just a little and waiting for his cue.

Ludwik squinted, watching her dainty, onion–like fingers, his husky voice commanding, “Pour more.”

“Add the morels,” he directed.

Whitney quickly scooped up the morel slices, her cooking skills obviously lacking.

The man enveloped her tiny hand with his, taking up the spatula.

Their bodies were so close in the warm kitchen that it gave Whitney a dizzying sensation as if the warmth inside her was returning.

But was this just a fleeting dream?

hence this last close moment he

felt pricked by a needle, sharp and stinging, and Whitney silently wished for time

little slower.

dishes were quickly

the kitchen, leaving

table was soon laden with

candles, inviting Whitney to take a

sat only

sighing, “It used to be just the two of us for New Year’s, so dreary and quiet. Now,

beamed with joy.

her inner turmoil whispering,

their first New Year’s together, probably the last.

the table, his face as impassive

of wine, his long fingers swirling it before drinking it with icy detachment.

table until Natalie nudged her son, “Don’t you

set down his glass, wiping his lips with

her seat, her heart feeling locked in a box, suffocating.

what he was about to say,

Corporation, to face

a

slightly, as if pricked by needles,

velvet box, the royal

leaned against the table, looking down, his deep eyes fixed on her, “Open it.”

Confused, Whitney did.

was a stunning diamond ring that left her speechless.

forgive that error. If you thought your mistake

went wrong between us? I don’t understand. It

mocking, pained smile flickered in his

bit her lip hard, fearing she would

looked at her intently, his voice a low whisper, “I don’t want it to end! Nor do I want to lose you. Take your time to consider wearing this ring. Give us one last chance. If you’re not wearing it tomorrow morning, I won’t force

resolute words, he returned to his seat, the man

had he just

Whitney’s heart trembled.

was proposing to her.

I G S I G S

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