Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

#Chapter 46: A Dangerous Game

Karl This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“What do you want?”

Adam’s voice is apprehensive, and for good reason. It’s not everyday that I set food inside his

restaurant, and it’s certainly not everyday that I show up telling him that I have a proposition for him.

But I’ve been plotting this for a long time.

Abby clearly doesn’t realize that Adam doesn’t care about her as much as he should. Or maybe she

does, but she doesn’t seem ready to leave him for some strange reason. She deserves better—she

deserves me. And maybe she just needs a little push to get the gears in motion. I swear, once she’s

free from Adam, she’ll realize just how much of a mess their ‘relationship’ is. And I know exactly what

it’ll take to convince him to leave.

The ingredients.

I’ve been holding onto them for a while now, waiting for the perfect time. And after what happened the

other night, when Adam stood his own fiancee up for a dinner date, I think it’s finally time.

“Let’s talk in private,” I say, smirking slightly. “You free later?”

Adam looks around with a puzzled look on his face. “Why? Why can’t we talk here, now?”

I shake my head. “Trust me, Adam; I’m not planning on doing anything shady if that’s what you’re

worried about. I just have something I want to show you.”

“Look, man, whatever it is, I’m not interested,” he says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.” I watch as he

tosses a dishcloth over his shoulder and heads for the kitchen. Sliding down from my barstool, I follow

him. When my hand makes contact with the swinging kitchen door, stopping it from closing in my face,

he whirls around and gives me another puzzled look.

“But this is about your restaurant,” I say, stepping into the bustling kitchen. “I swear. You won’t want to

pass this up.”

With a sigh, Adam looks around warily and finally shrugs. “Alright. Meet me outside later, I guess. I’ve

got a lunch rush to deal with. ‘Kay?”

“‘Kay.”

…

It’s later tonight, and just as promised, I’m waiting outside the restaurant. There’s an unlit cigarette

twirling between my fingers as I ponder what I’ll say to Abby once she and Adam break up, which

they’re sure to do after tonight.

Adam is easy to read, and I know that he won’t pass up what I’m about to give him.

A small smile plays on my lips as I imagine Abby leaning on me, using me as a shoulder to cry on. I’ll

give her plenty of time, of course, but eventually she’ll realize that I have changed—and the rest will be

history from there.

My thoughts are interrupted when the door to the restaurant swings open, and Adam steps out, wiping

his hands on his apron. The cold evening breeze rustles his hair as he tosses a bag of trash into a

nearby bin.

“Adam!” I call out, stepping into the light.

He freezes, but only momentarily. I can see him stiffly wipe his hands on his apron again, as though it’s

a nervous tick of his, before he turns to face me.

“Alright, Karl,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “What did you have to show me?”

“It’s better I show rather than tell,” I say, a slight smile playing on my lips as I slip the still-unlit cigarette

back into its carton and drop it into the inner pocket of my jacket. “Follow me.”

Adam nods hesitantly, but follows me as I lead him to my sleek, black car parked down the street. The

soft hum of the city surrounds us, punctuated by the distant honking of cars and the laughter of late-

night wanderers.

Reaching the car, I click the button on my key fob, and the trunk slowly pops open, revealing the

contents inside.

Stacked neatly are bins filled with the crème de la crème of ingredients. Golden saffron threads, the

scent wafting into the night air, freshly picked white truffles, caviar, and even a jar of edible gold flakes.

It’s a chef’s dream, and that’s only what’s sitting on the surface.

Adam’s eyes widen, the chef in him taking over as he reaches out to touch a bin, his fingers brushing

over the precious items.

“Where did you get these?” he whispers, his voice filled with awe. “Some of these can set someone

back hundreds, even thousands!”

I suppress a triumphant smile. “Connections. People who owe me favors.”

“Damn,” Adam says with a chuckle. “May I?”

I nod. With a grin, Adam picks up a glass jar filled with rare mushrooms. That jar alone cost me $4,000.

“Are these Alban white truffles?” he asks, turning it in the orange glow of the streetlights.

“Yup,” I say, leaning against the side of the car. “Those ones weren’t so easy to get.”

Adam chuckles again and gingerly places the jar back in the box. “That’s awesome, Karl,” he says,

turning to look at me once more. There’s an apprehensive look on his face again. “But why show me

this?”

I pause for effect before giving him my practiced answer. “These ingredients could be yours, Adam.”

His eyes snap to mine, confusion evident. “Why?”

I swallow hard, steeling myself for what comes next. “I want you to break up with Abby.”

Adam straightens, his face a mask of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. All this... for Abby? Why

would I?”

Choosing my words carefully, I continue, “I’ve been observing, Adam. The way you interact with some

of your staff, especially your sous chef. It’s clear to me you might not be as invested in Abby as she is

in you. You might not even swing her way, if you catch my drift.”

For a moment, silence envelops us, the weight of my words sinking in. Adam looks like a deer caught

in headlights. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know what I mean,” I say, locking eyes with him. “I believe you’re with Abby to keep up

appearances, perhaps for your family or reputation. But it’s not fair to her, and you know that.”

Adam freezes, swallowing. “And what do you care? She’s your ex. You divorced her.” His voice is

tense, hoarse. I know I’ve struck a chord.

“She’s my ex, yes, but I still care about her,” I say. “I can’t stand to see her in a relationship where she’s

not truly wanted.”

Adam takes a step back, his face a turmoil of emotions. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” I challenge. “Look, I’ve been there. The pressure, the expectations. I get it. But Abby

deserves better. She deserves honesty. Don’t you agree?”

He rubs his temples, clearly conflicted. “And what if I say no? What if I refuse your... generous offer?”

I shrug. “Then these ingredients go elsewhere. But you’d be missing out on a golden opportunity for

your restaurant, and to set things right.”

Adam stares at the bins for what feels like an eternity, torn between the prospect of elevating his

restaurant and facing the truth.

Finally, he exhales deeply, defeat evident in his eyes. “Alright. I’ll end it. But not for the ingredients,

Karl. For Abby.”

A wave of relief floods over me, though it’s tinged with guilt. “She deserves happiness, Adam. True

happiness.”

“I know,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant to hurt her. It just... happened. For

a while now, I’ve been meaning to…” His voice trails off. He looks away, but I can tell that he’s getting

emotional. It’s understandable; I’ve had friends in his position before. It sucks, but it’s not fair for Abby,

or anyone for that matter.

“You need to live your truth,” I say, taking note of how tense my own voice sounds. Stiffly, I place a

hand on his shoulder when I see a silent sob quake his body. “You’ll both be happier once this is over.”

Adam is silent for a moment before he composes himself again and nods, meeting my eyes. His are

red and watery. “Thanks, Karl. You’re right.”

Closing the trunk, I hand him the car key. “The ingredients are yours. Use them well.”

Adam nods, taking the key, his face pale and drawn. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Karl. And I

hope Abby finds the happiness you’re talking about.”