Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 356

Abby

“May I have this dance?”

Damon’s striking green eyes flash handsomely at me from behind his long lashes. I hate to admit it, but he does look good tonight in his elegant tuxedo, with his long hair swept back into a neat bun. A few wispy pieces of hair frame his square jaw.

Maybe, if circumstances were different, I would have been attracted to him in this moment.

But I’m not. Not really.

Still, though, I offer him a polite smile and place my hand in his. “You may.”

Damon smiles and leads me over to the dance floor, which is already swimming with other smiling guests. Much to my surprise, no one bats an eye as we begin dancing together.

“You look perturbed,” Damon says as we begin to move together. “Is everything alright?”

I nod, even though it’s not true. With Damon’s warm hand on my waist, it’s just a staunch reminder of the truth: I miss Karl dearly. But he’s not here.

“I’m just a bit surprised that no one seems to notice you,” I admit with a slight laugh. “You are a prince, after all.”

Damon chuckles, a low, throaty sound that would make most women swoon. “I keep a low profile,” he says. “I’d hate it if my guests were to be fawning over me at parties like this, so I’d rather mingle as one of them. It makes it much more fun.”

“I can see that.” Damon and I sway to the orchestral music. My eyes sweep over the crowd. I can feel it again; Karl’s presence. But I know he’s not here. He can’t be.

“It’s a lovely party,” I say. “Are all your parties like this?”

“Not quite.” Damon twirls me, and when I turn back to him, he pulls me a little closer so that our waists press against one another. I want to pull away, but his grip is tighter than I expected. “This is the only party where I’ve been given the honor of not only having such a talented chef as yourself as the caterer, but also to dance with her.”

I can’t help it; I blush a bit at his words. “Thank you, Damon. That’s very kind.”

We dance in silence for a few moments longer. Damon’s movements are fluid and elegant, speaking of a lifetime of practice. When the music swells, he leans in a little closer and his breath tickles my ear as he speaks. “May I ask you a… personal question?”

I swallow nervously, then nod. “Of course.”

Damon pulls back just enough to look at me. His green eyes are soft as they reflect the golden light of the crystal chandeliers. “Did you… take the test?” he asks.

My heart pounds at his question. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Damon, sensing this, quickly speaks up again. “Of course, you don’t need to respond,” he says gently. “I will respect your right to privacy. I’m only curious.”

“No, um… It’s alright,” I say. “I… I did take the test. I am pregnant.”

My heart clenches a bit at my words—I had hoped that Karl would be the first to know—but something tells me that there’s no use in trying to hide the truth from Damon. He’d likely be able to tell, anyway, just by the fact that I’m not touching any alcohol tonight.

Damon’s eyes light up at my words. “Oh, how wonderful,” he says, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard. “I’m so happy for you, Abby.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks redden a bit. “I’m excited.”

Damon nods. “As you should be,” he says. “Which leads me to my next question… Have you considered my proposal since you found out?”

Once again, there’s no use in lying. “I think I’ve got a lot on my mind already, Damon,” I say. “But your proposal is on the list.”

“Of course.” The song comes to an end, and with a flourish, Damon steps back and bows. I curtsy beneath my dress, and when I look back up, Damon is smiling down at me. “Could I show you something, Abby?”

“Sure.”

“Follow me, then.”

As Damon wishes, I follow him through the throng of people toward a large set of double doors at the opposite end of the ballroom. As we approach, he discreetly opens one of the doors for me and gestures for me to enter.

But then it happens again; that feeling. As if Karl is nearby. I pause, taking a glance over my shoulder, my heart pounding in my chest.

For a moment, I think I might catch those soft brown eyes somewhere in the crowd. But I don’t. He’s not here, I tell myself.

And as we step into the dimly lit room together, I feel Damon’s hand on my lower back, burning my skin.

Once the door shuts behind us, the sounds of the party fall to a distant hum—and so does the feeling of Karl’s presence. I shake my head subtly as if to dispel the sensation as Damon crosses the room to turn on the light.

When the lights come on, I’m met with a sight to behold; an entire gallery full of expensive artwork and sculptures. There must be millions of dollars worth of artwork in this room alone.

“Wow,” I breathe, turning slowly as I look around. “Damon, this is…”

“A small collection, really,” Damon says with a casual wave of his hand. “My palace back at home has an entire wing dedicated to the arts. But, when I’m here, I feel as though something is better than nothing. I like to come here to think.”

I’m speechless. To think that this is so small for a man like Damon… To me, it’s more than I ever expected to see in my entire life.

“Come.” Damon nods his head toward a far wall, his hands in his pockets as he leads me over to a row of paintings. As we come closer, I can see now what appears to be family portraits lining the wall.

“Is this your family?” I ask, leaning in to look at the finely painted portraits. It feels as though the images could come alive right off the canvas. There are several portraits of what look like multiple generations of wealthy men and women.

“Indeed,” Damon says with a soft sigh. He reaches out to wipe a bit of dust off of one of the frames with his finger, grimaces slightly at it, and wipes it on his pocket square. “Down there are my great-grandfather and great-grandmother. Beside them, my grandparents.”

“And who is this?” I ask, pointing at a portrait with a stunningly beautiful woman and a handsome man. The woman has striking red hair and an aquiline nose while the man has brown hair, brown eyes and a well-groomed beard. The man looks oddly familiar.

“Those are my parents.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?” They don’t look like Damon at all, who has shoulder-length black hair and bright green eyes. I suppose the red-haired woman has a similar eye color to him, but even then…

“I know, I know,” Damon says with a laugh. “I don’t look very much like my parents. I was blessed with a recessive gene that hasn’t shown itself in our family for generations. But, trust me, I am my parents’ son.”

A slight laugh escapes my lips too. “Imagine the drama,” I tease.

But Damon doesn’t laugh. I swallow, turning slowly to find him directly behind me. I hope I haven’t offended him—and yet, when he reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair out of my eyes, there’s nothing but tenderness in his gaze.

“I must admit something,” he says softly. “Perhaps you could already tell, but… I’ve had quite the crush on you since I saw you on the television. Forgive me, but your cooking skills aren’t the only reason why I wanted to bring you here.”

I feel frozen to my spot, unsure of what to say. I suppose I realized this already, but hearing Damon say it just makes it feel all the more real.

“Oh, Damon, I—”

“Come live with me, Abby,” Damon says softly. He takes a step closer, and his voice drops to a husky tone. “You and your child will want for nothing. I swear, I will make you the happiest woman in the world.”

As he speaks, he seems to move closer with each word. I feel my heart race in my chest as I blink up at him. His lips part, his head tilting to the side as he leans in…

“Stop.” I lean back, pressing my hands into his chest just before his lips touch mine. “Damon, I’m flattered, but I’m not interested. Not right now.”

Damon freezes and stares at me for a moment before he straightens. “Oh,” he says. “You’re… You’re sure?”

I nod stiffly. “I’m sorry, Damon. But I just got out of a relationship, and now with a baby on the way… I’m not sure if I’m looking for love at the moment.”

For a few moments, Damon just stares at me, seemingly dumbfounded. It becomes clear to me, then, that maybe he’s not used to not getting what he wants. I almost wonder if I’ve made the wrong decision by entering this secluded room with a man who I hardly know.

But then he pulls back and straightens, slipping his hands into his pockets once again. A slight smile spreads across his face and he nods. “Of course. I respect that,” he says gently. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

A slight sense of relief washes over me; crisis averted, for now. I offer him a small smile and shake my head. “No, not at all, Damon.”

Damon then nods his head toward the door, back toward the bustling party—back toward the feeling of Karl.

“Shall we?”