Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 343

Abby

I settle into the chair across from Damon at the intimate, candlelit table set up on the balcony. Despite the romantic ambience, I try to remind myself that this is just a business dinner; even though my skin still burns from where his lips brushed against my knuckles.

Damon smiles invitingly as a server appears out of seemingly thin air to pour us both a glass of rich red wine. Expensive wine, at that. Although, I didn’t expect any less from a prince.

“I took the liberty of having the kitchen prepare a special starter I think you’ll enjoy,” Damon says with a warm smile.

My eyes widen as a covered silver platter is placed in front of me. When I lift the lid, the tangy, garlicky aroma has my mouth watering instantly. Oysters Rockefeller—my favorite!

But how did he know?

“Damon, I love Oysters Rockefeller,” I breathe. “How did you…”

Damon’s smile seems to sharpen at my visible delight. “I had my personal chef do some research on your preferences. Wanted to make a good impression.”

“Oh.” I blink, caught off guard. “Well...thank you. That was rather unnecessary, but very thoughtful.”

“Unnecessary, perhaps, but I always treat my guests like royalty,” Damon says, lifting his glass.

Raising my own glass, I take a sip of the red wine before digging into the oysters. They’re perfect; just the right amount of seasonings, and they melt like butter on my tongue. Damon seems to watch me as I enjoy a few, his eyes glinting over his glass of wine.

“Truly delicious,” I say, delicately wiping my lips with my napkin. “Actually, this reminds me, about the hors d’oeuvres for the gala…”

“Plenty of time to discuss business later,” Damon interrupts before I can finish. “I was hoping to get to know you a little bit better first, Abby.”

When he says my name, his knee casually brushes mine under the small table. The sensation sends a jolt through me, and I quickly pull away. An accident, probably. Although, I can’t deny the way his voice seemed to drop ever so slightly when he said my name.

“Right,” I say, taking another sip of my wine. “So… What do you want to know about me?”

Damon chuckles. “How very forward of you,” he says. “Just like you were on the television. Let’s see… what do you do during your spare time, Abby? Aside from cooking, of course.”

His words make me blush a bit. Maybe I did come across as very forward on TV. I guess I’ve developed an inability to mince words ever since I entered the culinary field—and since I got divorced from Karl—

No. I can’t think about Karl tonight.

“In my spare time?” I ask thoughtfully as I forcefully shove aside my thoughts of the man who broke my heart yet again. “Let’s see… I love reading, for one. Spending time with my friends; I guess I’m a bit of an extravert.”

Damon quirks an eyebrow. “An extravert, you say? I suppose that’s a necessity when working in your field.”

I shrug. “It’s possible to be an introvert when you’re the type of chef who only works in the kitchen,” I say. “But I enjoy all aspects of running a restaurant, including customer service.”

“Ah. I see.” Damon nods slowly, tenting his fingers over the table. “Well, you speak very eloquently, too. When I saw you speak during your interviews on the television, I was consistently impressed.”

Once again, his words make me blush a bit. Or maybe it’s just the wine.

“Thank you,” I say. “So, Damon… what do you do during your spare time?”

Damon scoffs and waves his hand. “Oh, nothing interesting, I assure you,” he says nonchalantly. “Please, let’s focus on you. I’m very interested in you, Abby…”

Although his words take me a bit aback, I don’t have time to focus on them because the server returns. This time, he’s holding two covered silver trays. I can already smell the mouth-watering aroma of lemony zest and fragrant spices.

Over the main course—an exquisitely cooked filet mignon paired with all my favorite sides—I find myself unwittingly opening up more about past events I’ve catered, high profile clients I’ve served, and most importantly, the Alpha gathering.

“Champagne often causes headaches,” I explain through a bite of tender steak. “So to keep my clients happy and feeling good, I always keep an array of various ginger ales stocked behind my bar.”

Damon listens intently, his focus solely on me in a way that would be flattering if it didn't feel slightly excessive. It almost feels… intimate, the way his intense eyes barely stray away from my face.

When the plates are cleared and we linger over a cheese board, I realize with a jolt that we haven’t discussed the upcoming event at all yet. I straighten in my seat.

“Damon, maybe we should talk specifics about next week’s gala?” I prompt. “I’d like to go over the guest list one more time, the service order, the refreshments...”

“Of course.” Damon rises smoothly, extending a hand. “Let’s discuss on the balcony, shall we? The fresh air will do us some good. Help us think a bit more clearly.”

I hesitantly place my hand in his, allowing him to guide me outside. His palm is cool and smooth; he clearly moisturizes, and rarely uses his hands. He’s not like Karl, who has developed calluses from a lifetime of getting his hands dirty; calluses which became even more prominent and alluring after the library project.

God, even now, when I think about the way his muscles rippled when he was moving those beams… the sweat on his temples…

Stop it, I think to myself. I need to stop thinking about him.

Just as Damon predicted, the cool air does help clear my head. I let my thoughts of Karl float away on the salty sea breeze. This week, I need to focus on the event; not on my heartbreak, no matter how much it hurts.

As we lean on the railing overlooking the moonlit ocean below, Damon shifts subtly closer. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” he asks.

I nod slowly. “It is,” I admit. “I don’t see the ocean very often.”

Damon pauses and glances over at me. “Is that so?” he asks. “Do you wish you could see it more often?”

I shrug. “I do love the ocean as much as anyone. But it’s not a necessity for me.”

As I speak, Damon’s arm grazes mine. I go a bit still at the contact but tell myself to relax. Surely it didn’t mean anything more than proximity. I’m just on edge because of…

No. I won’t keep thinking about Karl.

“So,” I say, turning to face Damon. “About the gala?”

“Yes, of course. The gala,” Damon begins. But then I feel his fingertips intentionally, unmistakably brush over the back of my hand where it rests on the cool stone railing.

Panic leaps in my chest. I fight the urge to yank my hand away, instead slowly removing my hand from the railing and folding both hands in front of me. When I chance a look at Damon, he simply gazes back calmly.

Maybe I was just reading into things after all.

After an awkward beat, Damon continues discussing the gala nonchalantly, as if the intimate hand touch never occurred. We discuss the necessities: which hors d’oeuvres to serve, the chocolate fountains, the bar setup. My tension slowly begins to slip away; in fact, I would say that Chloe owes me five dollars, but there were candles on the dinner table.

But still, it’s not a date. I’m not dating anyone. Not even a prince.

“...which leads me to my next point.” Damon turns fully to face me on the balcony, his hands clasped behind his back. “I actually have a professional proposal for you, Abby.”

I swallow hard, taken aback by his sudden words. “Oh?”

His eyes gleam in the low light. “Yes,” he says, flashing me a polite smile. “Like I said, I’ve been following your career for a long time now, Abby. And I must admit, this gala isn’t the only reason why I sought you out…”

He pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. My heart clenches a bit at the sight, but what he says next is something I never would have expected.

“I’d love to have you permanently on my personal culinary staff, Abby.”

My mouth drops open. Speechless astonishment washes over me, followed swiftly by incredulous excitement. I can’t believe it—a prince, literal royalty, wants me to join his permanent staff?

Damon smiles knowingly at my visible shock. “You weren’t expecting this, were you?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t. Damon, I…” My voice trails off. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, and yet… I’m not sure if it’s an opportunity I’m willing to take right now.

My hesitation must show on my face, because Damon steps closer, his expression softening. “You’ll be compensated very well, Abby. You can trust me on that.”

Before I can react, he reaches out to squeeze my shoulder gently. Even through my dress, his soft, cool fingers brushing across my bare skin make me shiver.