Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 193

Abby

I take a deep breath as the Alpha party begins, the buzz of excitement and chatter filling the air. It’s finally here, the culmination of months of hard work and preparation. I couldn’t be more excited—and I also couldn’t be more terrified.

“Abby, the first orders are coming in,” John calls out, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow as he stands over the grill.

I nod in acknowledgment and grab the first order ticket: frutti di mare. An easy one, because all of the ingredients were prepped ahead of time. I just need to throw it together on the stove and then it’s done.

But it doesn’t stay easy for long. Before I know it, the kitchen is rapidly turning into a warzone. The orders are flying in faster than a dinner rush on a Saturday night, and the hors d’oeuvres that we prepared earlier need to be restocked.

I hate to say it, but I didn’t expect the food to be this much of a success. I feel like if I don’t watch it, I’ll drown.

“Two steaks coming up, one medium rare and one medium,” John says. “Abby, how are the potatoes coming along?”

I glance at the pan of potatoes cooking in the oven. “Almost done. Another minute.”

Anton, our resident pastry chef for tonight, is busy at the dessert station, meticulously assembling the tiramisu. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to his desserts, and it shows in the intricate layers he creates.

In fact, it appears as though his perfection isn’t going unnoticed at the Alpha party.

“Abby, the tiramisu is a huge hit out there,” Chloe calls out as she bursts through the door, her excitement palpable. “People are raving about it!”

“That’s fantastic! You hear that, Anton? Your tiramisu is a hit!”

“Merde,” Anton huffs as he wipes his brow with the back of his wrist. “I can hardly keep up. Who knew!”

I let out a soft sigh and turn to Chloe. “Chloe, try to push a different dessert for a little bit. Recommend the peach cobbler instead.”

Chloe nods, but I can see the worry in her eyes. “I’ll try,” she says, “but people are seeing other people eating it and they’re getting FOMO. I can only do so much.”

“Well, just try your best,” I encourage. “If they want the tiramisu, just tell them that it’s on backorder and might take an extra couple of minutes.”

With another nod, Chloe disappears from the kitchen. I pull the potatoes out of the oven and toss them onto the same two plates that John is placing the steaks on, adding a sprinkle of parmesan and some rosemary before they’re ready.

“Anton,” I call out, “are you sure you’re okay over there? Need a switch?”

Anton pauses for a moment, then nods. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem.” Without a second thought, I jog around the line and switch spots with Anton. It’s a bit of a relief to get away from the heat of the stove anyway.

As Anton and John start working on the next wave of dishes, I quickly gather the ingredients we need for another batch of tiramisu. Ladyfingers, mascarpone cheese, espresso, cocoa powder. Before I know it, I’m lost in a world of layers and sweetness.

But just as I’m settling into my new groove and the entree orders seem to be dying down, chaos erupts. Daisy rushes into the kitchen, her face flushed with concern.

“Abby, we’ve got a problem,” she says, her voice quivering. I’ve seen this look before—the tears in her eyes, the way her lower lip is shaking. She’s about to cry.

I pause mid-step, my heart racing. “What’s wrong?”

Daisy holds up the tray in her hand, where several dessert plates lay in disarray. At first glance, it just looks like half-eaten food—but on closer inspection, I can see that it’s not that at all.

Someone smashed the cakes in. The tiramisu Anton so painstakingly made sits in a mess on each plate, uneaten but smashes to oblivion.

“These are from the dessert table,” Daisy says. “I found them like this. Someone did it and then left them there.”

My jaw tightens, and I can feel a mix of anger and frustration bubbling up within me. Who would smash the cakes on the dessert table? That’s not fair to the other guests, and it’s certainly not fair to us.

“Do you have any idea who did it?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.

Daisy hesitates for a moment, her eyes flickering with discomfort before she finally answers. “I think so. It was a table of Lunas.”

My heart clenches. I think I know exactly who Daisy is referring to; and yes, they would absolutely, without a doubt, do something horrendous like this.

They’ve never been supportive of my culinary career, and with me catering the Alpha party now, there’s no doubt in my mind that they felt it necessary to knock me down a peg.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. This is not the time for personal grievances. We have a party to run, and I won’t let the actions of a few ruin it.

“Okay. Daisy, toss those cakes and bring out these ones,” I say, my tone firm but controlled as I nod my head toward a fresh tray of tiramisu. “And keep an eye on those Lunas for now. If they cause any more trouble, come to me.”

Daisy nods, relief washing over her features. “You got it, Abby.”

As she rushes off with the new tray of tiramisu, I turn my attention back to the kitchen. We can’t afford any more disruptions tonight. The show must go on.

The kitchen continues to operate like a well-oiled machine, and I can see the satisfaction on my team’s faces as they send out beautifully plated dishes. It’s moments like these that remind me why I became a chef in the first place—the thrill of creating something extraordinary and the joy it brings to others.

But as the night wears on, my thoughts keep returning to the Lunas. It’s hard not to feel a pang of hurt and frustration. I’ve worked tirelessly to prove myself, and yet, some still view me as an outsider.

As the kitchen staff takes a brief break to regroup, Daisy approaches me cautiously.

“Abby, are you okay after earlier?” she asks, her eyes filled with concern.

I force a smile, masking my inner turmoil. “I’m fine, Daisy. Don’t worry. Are those Lunas behaving?”

She lets out a soft sigh and hangs her head. “Well, they haven’t wrecked any more food, but they’ve been nasty all night,” she says. “One of them called me a whore when I came and took their dirty dishes.”

My eyes widen. “Daisy! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Daisy shrugs and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just so used to having people treat me as lesser than because of my past that I didn’t even think of it.”

I don’t know what to say. I know about Daisy’s past, as does everyone else in here. None of us look down on her, and I guess it makes me forget sometimes that the entire world isn’t like us.

But now, more than ever, I want to give those Lunas a piece of my mind. They can insult me, but my staff, my family? I won’t let that happen. Ever.

“Don’t worry, Daisy,” I reassure her, touching her shoulder. “Let one of Mr. Thompson’s staff handle that table for the rest of the night.”

She shoots me a wary look. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “Absolutely.” Then, with a mischievous smile, I lean a little closer and lower my voice so only she can hear. “And take a piece of cake for you and Ethan to share. You deserve it.”

As I speak, Daisy’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open. “Ethan and I—We’re not—” she stutters, but I can see it in her eyes, and I just grin.

“Oh, come on, Daisy,” I tease. “I’ve seen the chemistry between the two of you. It’s okay. You don’t need to hide it.”

Daisy’s cheeks flush red, and she averts her gaze to the floor, her fingers worrying the hem of her apron. “So it wouldn’t be… inappropriate for me to have feelings for my coworker?”

“No!” I say with a laugh. “Daisy, I’m happy for the two of you. You’d never need to hide something like that.”

With a smile, Daisy nods and thanks me. The orders keep rolling in, and Anton, John, and I get back to work.

But as I work, I can’t help but grin to myself. Those Lunas may be nasty and rude, but it won’t sway my team. Because we’ve got so much more than them. We’ve got friendship, family, and newfound love on our side.