Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 85

Abby

I’m in the kitchen organizing my thoughts, sketching out a mental roadmap for tonight’s three-course extravaganza as I mumble under my breath.

“Sauvignon Blanc with the salmon… Hmm… Maybe I should prepare cappuccinos with the torte for dessert…”

Just then, the door swings open, and in walks Karl, bags of groceries in hand. Gianna, his ever-present secretary, trails closely behind him.

My heart does a little dance at the sight of Karl, a knee-jerk reaction I’ve never been able to fully quell. Even with my wolf being asleep, the presence he creates when he walks into a room always makes her lurch in my mind, as though she can always sense him in her sleep.

In a way, it’s frustrating. I want to yell at my wolf for leaving me alone and then momentarily reappearing every time the man who broke my heart walks into the room, but I know it won’t do any good.

However, something else is on my mind right now. I can’t help but notice how well they seem to get along, Gianna laughing at something Karl has just said. A pang of jealousy surges through me.

“Hey, Abby. Got everything you asked for,” Karl announces, setting the bags on the countertop.

I shake off the jealousy, reminding myself that Karl and I are just friends now. “Thank you, both of you. This means a lot to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Karl replies, a softness in his eyes that makes my stomach churn with a mix of nostalgia and longing. “Need anything else?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m good, thanks.” Then, I turn to Gianna, determined to be cordial. “How are you doing, Gianna?”

“I’m fine,” she responds tersely, a frosty undertone to her voice. Then, shifting her attention to Karl, she says, “Could I speak to you privately? We need to sort some things out before the dinner.”

“Of course,” Karl says, casting a glance in my direction as if to say ‘I’ll be back soon.’ They both leave the room, Gianna leading the way with a sense of purpose.

I watch them go, feeling a strange knot tighten in my stomach. It’s not jealousy, not exactly, but it’s something—something that unsettles me.

Behind me, Elsie snorts with what sounds like outright disgust. “Gods, I can’t stand that woman.”

Chuckling at Elsie’s blunt honesty, I turn back to the counter. “Let’s not focus on her, Elsie. We’ve got a dinner to prepare, and it has to be perfect.”

“You’re right, Abby,” she says. “Though, for the record, you’ve got no reason to be jealous. No one can take your place, especially not her.”

“I’m not jealous,” I insist, although her words make me feel unexpectedly warm. “Karl and I are just friends. I have no interest in him.”

Elsie gives me a look that says she knows better, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she helps me unpack the groceries, laying out the fresh salmon, vibrant vegetables, and a variety of spices and herbs.

My hands reach for the ingredients, eager to transform them into something extraordinary.

…

The kitchen is a lively mixture of scents and spices as I work with meticulous attention.

“Else, can you hand me the Herbes de Provence?”

“Sure thing, Abby.”

As I get ready, I can’t help but wonder why I’m doing this. Is it really just to prove something to Gianna and her judgmental friends, or is it… something else?

Am I, perhaps, trying to reclaim my spot as Luna?

Minutes later, I look into the mirror and see a transformation. Makeup done to perfection, hair cascading down like a silken waterfall, and a dress that reminds me of a time when I was the epitome of poise and grace.

A time when Gianna would’ve bitten her tongue before dismissing me.

“Perfect,” I whisper to my reflection. “Absolutely perfect.”

Just as I’m touching up my lipstick, I hear Karl’s voice ring out from downstairs. “Everyone, let’s make our way to the dining room. Dinner is ready.”

I wait at the top of the stairs, letting the murmur of voices fill the air before making my entrance. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I step onto the staircase.

The moment I do, the room falls silent. Every eye turns in my direction.

But it’s Karl’s reaction that I care about the most, as much as I don’t want to admit it.

As I descend the stairs, his eyes catch mine, and they widen in astonishment. His gaze travels the length of my gown, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind, reassessing, recalculating. I reach the foot of the stairs and pause for effect. The room is so quiet I could hear a pin drop.

Right now, at this moment, my message is clear—I’m not someone you can ever dismiss or forget. I am Abby, the ex-Luna, the renowned chef, and the woman who just cooked an extravagant three-course meal for a room full of Alphas, yet still had time to dress to kill.

Let’s see Gianna, or anyone else for that matter, label that as ‘pathetic.’