Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 151

Abby

“Your sous chef… I saw him trying to bribe the judges earlier.”

Daniel’s words land on me like a lead weight. Karl? Bribing the judges? He wouldn’t do something like that. When would he have even had the time? Why wouldn’t he have told me?

My gaze locks with Daniel’s, and disbelief tightens around my chest as though some invisible hand is gripping my heart, squeezing tighter and tighter.

“What do you mean by that?” I demand, my voice trembling despite my desperate attempts to keep myself steady, to maintain control in a situation that’s making me feel like the world is tilting on its axis.

Daniel’s wry chuckle bounces off of the walls of the breakroom. His voice sounds like a taunt as he takes a step closer, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, Abby. Don’t act like you don’t know. You put him up to it, didn’t you?” he asks. “Your performance during round two was so awful, surely you thought you could bribe the judges into keeping you on the show.”

My eyes are so wide they feel like they’ll pop out of my head. “Never,” I hiss. “I would never do any such thing, and neither would he. You’re full of it, Daniel. Absolutely full of it.”

But Daniel just chuckles again. “Then explain this to me: why, during the break, did I see your sous chef…” he leans in, his breath foul with the scent of coffee and arrogance, “going into the judges’ room? He looked pretty cozy too, tucking a wad of cash into his pocket.”

I recoil away from him, my heart racing, a mix of anger and dread coursing through my veins. “You’re a liar,” I say, my voice sharp. “You’re just trying to throw me off. First you sabotage me, and what now? You’ll accuse me of bribery on live television?”

But even as I speak, Daniel’s smug expression doesn’t falter for even a moment, and a sickening realization dawns on me that he might not be making up lies.

“Don’t believe me?” he asks, straightening. “Why don’t you ask him yourself, then?”

With that, Daniel jerks his head toward the door to the breakroom, which I’ve had my back to throughout this whole godforsaken conversation. My heart feels like it stops, like the room has been sucked out of air.

I whirl around, and the room tilts, time stopping in its tracks.

Karl is standing in the doorway, his jacket in his hand. He’s still wearing the blue surgical mask to cover his face, but he’s no longer in his white chef’s uniform. He’s back in his plain clothes, his hair slightly disheveled from his tussle with the security guard, and a weary look in his eyes.

Our gazes lock, and for a few heartbeats, the world somehow seems to shrink to the space between us. It’s like we’re caught in a void, just the two of us, staring at each other. Shock is etched into every line of his face, mirroring my own.

Without a word, I grab his arm, the muscle beneath his shirt taut and unyielding, and I drag him away from the breakroom, away from the prying eyes and listening walls. I drag him down the hall until I find a supply closet, then open the door and shove him in before I follow suit.

The room is pitch black for a moment before I find the cord hanging from the ceiling and flick the lights on, casting us both in a pale yellow hue. All I can do is stare at him for a few moments, wide-eyed, before the words finally come.

“Is it true?” My voice comes out like a choked whisper. The question hangs between us for a long time, the silence stretching on for what feels like an eternity.

Then, Karl’s brown eyes almost seem to gloss over, and he shakes his head. “No,” he says, the denial in his voice immediate and almost instinctive. “I didn’t try to bribe the judges. Daniel is lying.”

But even as he speaks I can see the flicker, the slightest shift in his eyes that betrays him. My heart sinks even more than it already has.

“Karl, don’t you dare lie to me.” My voice breaks, a crack in the facade of strength and poise that I’m desperately trying to maintain right now. “I know you. We used to be married. I can always tell when something’s off with you.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, and it’s like I can see the war raging behind his eyes. Then, finally, he lets out a deep and exasperated sigh.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sinking down onto a stack of boxes behind him. He tugs his mask down so I can finally see his entire face, and then he runs a hand through his already-tousled hair.

“Okay?” I murmur, taking a tentative step forward. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Karl is quiet for several more moments that feel like an eternity, and it makes me want to reach across the tiny supply closet and throttle him. But then, finally, he speaks.

“Daniel only has half of the truth, though,” he says, his brown eyes lifting to meet my gaze.

I frown and fold my arms across my chest. “Explain. I don’t have much time.”

As if on cue, the PA system outside flickers to life, muffled through the door of the supply closet: “Contestants, please return to your marks in five minutes. Repeat, this is your five minute warning.”

Karl pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes my head. “Alright,” he says, as though battling with something unspoken. “I… I did try to talk to the judges.”

My heart feels like it stops. The supply closet feels as though it’s shrinking, like I’m caught between four walls that are closing in and will slowly crush me. The air feels hot and thick, and I can hardly breathe. I find myself taking a few steps back and leaning against the door, one hand clutching my chest and the other reaching for the door handle.

“You… why would you do that?” I murmur, my voice choked and thin.

Karl, seeing the disdain in my eyes, suddenly shoots to his feet. “Abby, I swear, it’s not what you think,” he says, his hand reaching for me.

But I slap his hand away, shaking my head. “No. This can’t be happening. You… You shouldn’t have done that, Karl!” I say, my voice rising. “No wonder the judges hate me. No wonder I’ve been doomed to fail this whole time. Because you tried to bribe them!”

Suddenly, everything makes sense. The disdain for me, the disappointment, the ingredients, the public humiliation… Karl tried to bribe them, and therefore I have to lose.

This is television, after all. The show must go on, and with Bryan gone, they had to make a spectacle out of me for views instead of disqualifying me.

Panting, I wrap my fingers around the door handle and try to swing it open. I have to get out of here. I don’t want to be here anymore, in this supply closet, in this studio, in this competition. I can’t take the humiliation, can’t stand to look at Karl’s face.

But before I can leave, Karl lurches forward and presses his palm to the door, slamming it shut. I’m sandwiched between the door and his taut body, our breaths mixing in the thick air of the supply closet. All at once, I want to scream and cry and hit him and kiss him.

“Abby, listen to me,” he says, his voice low and husky. “Let me explain.”