Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 178

A few minutes later, Anton’s hands are washed, his long hair is pulled back, and an apron is covering his grimy clothes. Karl, John, and I are sitting on stools on the opposite side of the counter while Anton inspects each ingredient carefully, like he’s preparing to build something magnificent.

Karl clears his throat, clearly itching to say something snarky but holding back for my sake. “So, Anton, are you gonna cook this mystery dish? Or was all that just talk?”

Anton smirks, picking up a chef’s knife with a familiarity to his mannerisms that leaves me somewhat taken aback. “Just watch.”

The room falls silent. John moves closer to get a better view, while Karl and I shoot each other a glance, half out of respect, half out of disbelief. Anton’s fingers fly through the air, chopping onions, mincing garlic, and handling the black truffles with an expertise that makes my jaw drop.

“How did you...?” John begins, but Anton silences him with a raised finger.

“Patience, my friend.”

I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s not just cooking; it’s like he’s performing in front of an audience, a well-practiced show that he’s been putting on over and over again for decades now. It’s both fascinating and overwhelming at the same time. I could only ever dream of being as skilled as he is.

The room starts to fill with the scent of garlic and onions cooking in olive oil, intermingling with the earthy aroma of the truffles. My mouth waters uncontrollably, and I shoot Karl a glance. His eyes meet mine, and in that instant, I see the walls of his skepticism crack, if only a little.

Anton looks up from the stove, his eyes locking onto mine. “Would you pass me the white wine, Miss Abby?”

I hand it to him, and he pours a generous splash into the pan. The liquid sizzles as it hits the hot surface, and Anton stirs, a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

“Always deglaze the pan,” he mutters, more to himself than to us. “The real flavor is in the ‘fond’—the little bits that are stuck to the bottom.”

Minutes feel like seconds, and before we know it, Anton is sliding the pan off the stove, stepping back as if he’s an artist who has just unveiled a masterpiece.