Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 225

“Look, I know how you feel,” he says, growing exasperated himself. “But with the way my approval ratings are dropping right now in my pack, if word got out that I was working as ‘just a sous chef’ for my ex-wife, people would go feral. It would be a nightmare. For both of us.”

“You’re overthinking it,” I retort. “Trust me, Karl. We’ll keep your identity hidden. I promise.”

He sighs deeply, a troubled look crossing his face. “Look, why don’t you just call Adam? He could help you. And honestly, he kind of owes you.”

The name hits me like a bucket of cold water, instantly raising my hackles. “Adam? Really, Karl? Is that your solution?”

He looks confused, taken aback by my sudden vehemence. “Why not? He’s in the same field; he has the skills. You two know each other well.”

I shake my head, my eyes narrowed. “Adam and I could never work together in the kitchen. We’re like oil and water. Plus, he has his own restaurant; how would it look if he[s my sous chef?”

“What do you mean?” Karl asks, genuinely perplexed.

“Imagine the gossip that would start if Adam helps me win this competition. People will think we’re colluding, or worse, that he’s got ulterior motives. That maybe he would be trying to secretly cater the Alpha party on his own. My sous chef can’t have any strings attached, Karl,” I say, staring at him, willing him to understand.

Karl seems lost, his eyes searching mine.

“I…” he begins, but then stops, looking flabbergasted.

I sigh, passing my hand over my face. The clock is ticking: 7:45 a.m. I’m running out of time. I need to be at the studio by 9 at the latest, and it’s all the way on the other side of the city. It’ll take me a solid 45 minutes to get there on foot, even with the help of the subway.

Then, suddenly, I have an idea.

“Karl,” I say, taking a step closer to him, “do you remember that time four years ago, when we were still married? We had to prep for Leah’s surprise birthday party. You jumped in to help me last-minute, and we were like... a well-oiled machine,” I say, pleading with him with my eyes.