Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 361

Abby

The light of the moon streaming in through the high windows casts a dim blue glow over the corridor. As I step up to the cracked-open door of Damon’s private chambers, however, a flickering orange light mixes in with the dusky blues and grays.

“Hello?” I call out softly, knocking twice on the heavy oak door as I push it open. The room is furnished with a set of sofas and armchairs, a fireplace, and an entire bar. One wall is entirely dedicated to bookshelves, while there are several doors leading off in other directions. This room alone, Damon’s parlor so to speak, is bigger than my entire apartment back in the city.

But Damon is nowhere to be found. I furrow my brow as I look around, straining my eyes to see in the dim light. “Damon?”

“Abby.”

I don’t see him at first, but my head snaps around with a start when he speaks; he’s sitting in one of the high-backed plush chairs beside his flickering fireplace, staring pensively into the flames. There are two cups of tea on the little round table next to him, both of them untouched.

“Oh, Damon,” I say with a slight laugh. “I didn’t see you there.”

Damon chuckles and gestures for me to come closer. “Come. Sit.”

I furrow my brow, but don’t refuse his invitation. As I sink down into the soft chair across from him, the very first thing I notice is the plush, luxurious fabric with silky embossed floral designs.

And the second thing I notice is Damon’s green-eyed gaze locked unwaveringly on me.

“You wished to speak with me?” I ask, sitting up straighter than I’d like to after such a long day.

Damon pauses for a moment, as though drinking me in with his eyes, before he gestures to the tea. “Please, have some tea. It’s an herbal blend; quite good for morning sickness, actually, as you will find out for yourself tomorrow.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I take one of the cups of tea and take a sip; it’s actually really delicious, and just a little sweet. Just the way I like it. But the way that Damon’s eyes never leave mine as I sip does leave me feeling a little strange.

“Now then,” Damon says, his tone softer than usual, “I was hoping to talk to you about… about what happened earlier. At the gala.”

I swallow, feeling both my heart race and my eyes immediately begin prickling with tears at the mention of the dreaded gala. It’s almost as if I can still feel Karl’s warm hand wrapped around mine, as if I can still sense his rapid heartbeat beneath my trembling fingertips.

And I can still feel that sense of helplessness now that I felt when I found myself frozen, tongue tied, when he asked me to come with him.

“I, um… Forgive me, Damon, but I’m not sure if I’m really looking to talk about that right now,” I finally manage after several long moments of silence. “I was hoping to at least sleep on it. But I am terribly sorry about your office.”

Damon waves his hand nonchalantly. “Furniture is an easy commodity when you’ve got the coffers that I possess,” he says with a laugh that doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Really, I wanted to make sure that you’re okay above all else.”

“I… I’m okay,” I say. “Thank you for checking in on me.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Damon finally leans forward and picks up his tea cup, taking a sip before setting it back down. “If you don’t mind me asking, though… What do you plan to do?”

I blink in surprise at his words. “What do I plan to do?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean as far as… that boy goes,” he says, not even bothering to speak Karl’s name—or even to admit that Karl is a man, not a boy. “Surely, with your present condition…” He nods toward my pregnant belly. “You’ve got a lot of decisions to make.”

Once again, I’m a bit taken aback by Damon’s words. I suppose I should expect it by now because of my previous experiences with him, but his questions all feel a bit probing.

“I apologize, Damon, but that’s my business,” I say. “I’m not sure if I’m willing to discuss that.”

Damon’s eyes flash momentarily. It’s clear that the prince isn’t used to being told ‘no’, just like it seemed when I declined his kiss earlier tonight. But the look is gone just as quickly as it came, and it’s replaced by a gaze of apparent benevolence as he leans back in his chair.

He tents his fingers in front of his chin and nods slowly, deliberately. “I see. But, Abby, you must understand that I do worry about you. Surely you won’t go running back to a boy with such a… violent streak.”

I don’t know what to say. It all feels a bit too personal to be discussing with this man who I hardly know, and besides—Karl has never had a violent streak. He may be selfish and a bit unpredictable at times, but never violent.

In fact, he never once laid a finger on me, not even when he thought I cheated on him with the gardener.

“Damon, I understand that what happened to your study is horrific,” I say after a moment, “but Karl isn’t violent. He’s not—”

Before I can finish, Damon clears his throat and interrupts. “You say he is not violent, but I can see the truth, Abby,” he says softly. “He destroyed my study; stabbed my letter opener into my desk like a warning. You saw it for yourself.”

My cheeks heat up beneath his stern gaze. “Yes, but—”

“I know it is difficult to accept such things.” Damon sighs and leans forward. There’s an undeniable look of sympathy in his eyes. “Abby, I only want you to see the truth because I care for you.”

I swallow. “Damon, I’m flattered, but we only just met.” The words that I’ve been dying to say for the past few days finally come out, leaving Damon blinking in surprise. “Thank you for your concern, but my safety is my own to worry about. Not yours.”

Damon stares incredulously at me for a moment. There it is again; the flash in his eyes. This time, it doesn’t disappear quite as quickly as the other times. But he hides it well by standing and crossing over to the fireplace with his back to me.

“Perhaps we have only just met,” he says, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. “But, Abby, I have been watching you for some time now. I believe I know you better than you realize.”

As Damon speaks, I feel my body tense up. I grip the arms of the chair, slowly rising. My mind begins racing with possibilities; the black car, the stranger lurking around my house. Even nights taking out the trash in the alley behind the restaurant—nights when I thought I saw movement in the corner of my eye and chalked it up to a passing car or a bird.

But now…

“Damon—”

“With time,” he interrupts coolly, his back still turned to me, “you will come to understand that what I do is only for you. To make you happy. To keep you safe, as… my consort.”

“I’m not your consort.” I’m standing fully now, instinctively backpedaling toward the door without removing my eyes from Damon. “I’m just your caterer, Damon. And perhaps I shouldn’t take your job opportunity after all, now that I think of it.”

Damon’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn. There is a horrifyingly long moment of silence, filled only by my soft footsteps as I continue backpedaling away. But before I can reach the door, before my fingers can wrap around the cool doorknob, Damon chuckles.

“We’ll see about that.”

He snaps his fingers and the lock clicks behind me.