The Billionaire's Mask (mask #1)

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Chapter 23

ALAYNA

 

“Oh my God, this place magnificent!” I gasped as I entered the automatic sliding door.

The living room was the first thing I saw when I stepped into the penthouse. The marble floors were ridiculously spacious, and it was so unlike Brandon’s mansion in Manhattan. It was bright!

The interior looked exquisite and rare because I first thought of a spacecraft—with all the modernity with the glass-walled home and living room set at the center. The walls had curves and shapes as you will only see in an exhibition hall. The floor-to-ceiling window that boasted a stunning ocean view.

The furniture was just right for the modern house. It wasn't dark colored like the one he had in his home. It doesn't have purple draperies but beautiful floral portraits. It was his mother's villa after all, though it didn't look like just a villa to me, another man or his family owns. I immediately thought that his mother was a bright and warm person.

Brandon walked to the large glass door and stood there, releasing a breath of relief. I noticed the circular stairs that lead to the second floor, where John went holding our luggage.

 “This place was very different compared to yours,” I said in all honesty. He stood next to me as I stare at the limitless seawater. A smile curved on the side of his lips.

“My mother initially built this for us, her children, so we could live here when we're older and have a family.” He explained, with his eyes also set in the view.

“Here… It is breathtaking,” I murmured.

“You haven't seen the whole house yet,” he chuckled. “The bedroom was exquisite, too.”

I laughed softly, “Don't start with the bedroom.” I looked up at him, smiling meaningfully. “Shall we have brunch, now? I’m famished.”

“Of course. Come. I'll show you around the dining area.” Brandon held my hand and led the way to another glass door.

The dining room was also breathtaking, what did I expect? The architecture was brilliant. The interiors were also made of fiberglass which I could still saw the other side from where I was standing, a couple of small pots of florae placed by the edge to edge sliding window. The chandeliers looked like white umbrellas, and there was a long oval-shaped marble-white table in the middle with sixteen chairs.

Our brunch was already set on the table. I didn’t notice any housekeeper around,   but from the looks of the setting, it seemed to had been prepared several minutes ago. There were toast, eggs, pancakes, slices of assorted fruits, bacon, sausages, and then there was the pitcher of orange juice. It was even attractively arranged on the table.

“Brandon, why don't you just live here? This place has more privacy, and the place is, in fact, delightful. You won't see a single person around. You are going to live just like Iron Man in this kind of house,” I said.

He lowered his face. “Hmm, that is a tempting idea, Alayna, but I have a lot of memories here—of my mother and my sister, and I'm not ready yet. I wanted to cure myself first and deal with everything before I settle down,” he clarified in all seriousness. “The reason why I brought you here is that I wanted to discuss an important matter with you and I want to show you who I am.”

I looked at his masked face, “We have a long day, and I also wanted to spend time with Oliver and Betty. Afterward, we can have each other again for ourselves. Can we just—just eat first before we start with the real drama?” I was nervous about what he said about the ‘important matter,’ but I was utterly aware that there was something behind it. He had been silent the entire time.

“Of course.”

We sat in front of the food. I chose eggs and pancakes then Brandon poured me a glass of juice. I didn't want to ask Brandon during a meal, but I was really, really curious about what he meant by the real him.

I watched him as he ate his bacon and toast and how observed fascinating he was how he chewed his food. Brandon was obviously handsome even it was the only half of his face.

“What?” he stopped.

“You're not aware how handsome you are, aren't you?” I rested my chin on my palm, gawking at him.

He smirked. “Of course, I was. I was aware, until this,” he pointed his masked side face. He continued to eat.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” I asked. I was dying of curiousness. I wanted to know him deeper. I knew it wasn't proper to ask him about it over a meal, but I couldn't help myself not to find out more about him. Sure I knew tad things about him—stories that came from his cousins but none from him. I wanted to know his side of the story.



Ann Margarette

Edited: 05.09.2019

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