Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 228

Karl chuckles. The production assistant is waving her cl*pboard frantically,

checking her watch like we’re about to count down to an explosion. Karl takes

my hand and we run down the hall, bursting through the doors to the stage. The

assistant gestures to where our station is, all the way on the other end.

Composing ourselves, we walk stiffly onto the stage.

As we walk into the blinding lights, I can see the other contestants—waiting,

watching at their stations. Vanessa is watching from the judges’ stand, and for a

moment I expect her to shake her head with disappointment. But instead, she

shoots me a subtle wink and a thumbs-up. That alone is enough to make me

feel more at ease.

Enter title…

But then, just as we’re passing by the other stations, I hear it: Daniel’s voice, a

venomous whisper that cuts through the air, low enough so only Karl and I can

hear.

“Just look at her,” Daniel mutters to his sous chef, not even attempting to be

subtle about it. “She can’t even get her morning straight without her boyfriend

stepping in. Honestly, she has no business being in a professional kitchen.”

My face burns hot, a bristle of indignation bubbling beneath the surface of my

skin. I feel Karl tense beside me, his eyes narrowing as he registers Daniel’s

words.

“I should say something,” he growls, ready to pounce, but I grab his arm and

squeeze, signaling him to stand down.

I can’t let Karl step in, not now. Not when it would only prove Daniel’s point that

I’m just a homemaker with no place in the kitchen, who needs a man to take

care of business.

“No,” I say firmly. “Just ignore her.”

Karl shoots me a look as we approach our station. “And just let her trash-talk

you? Again?”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles Karl.”

“I know you don’t, but—”

“—but nothing,” I cut him off. “Now is not the time.”

Karl’s eyes search mine for a moment before he finally nods, although I can still

sense a stiffness in his posture. “Okay. Fine.”

We navigate through the hectic energy of the room, sidestepping frantic

production assistants and dodging camera operators with their massive rigs. As

we make it to our station, I see Daniel glance my way, his l*ps stretching into a

mean-spirited smirk.

My heart sinks, but I don’t let it show. I straighten my posture, lift my chin, and

flash a bright, defiant smile. I’ve worked too hard and come too far to let Daniel

or anyone else shake my confidence.

Karl leans into me as we stand by our cooking station, his words just for me.

“You okay?”

“Of course,” I say, the white lie sliding effortlessly off of my tongue. “Why

wouldn’t I be?”

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