#Chapter 51: Impressed


    Abby


    “Alright, paperwork’s done,” Karl deres with an air of finality, piling thest of the filed sheets into a


    neat stack.


    The office is a maze of papers, scattered across the desk and floor, but we’ve managed to conquer the


    monster of bureaucracy.


    I chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Who knew running a restaurant came with so


    much... paper?”


    Karl snorts. “Did no one warn you?”


    I roll my eyes dramatically. “Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. Next is ordering. Let’s head to the kitchen and see


    what we need.”


    He nods, and we make our way to the heart of the restaurant. The stainless steel countertops gleam


    under the dim overhead lights, and I breathe in the familiar mix of spices and cooked food. There’s


    something soothing about being here, even when the bustle is gone.


    I grab a clipboard and start jotting down a list. “We definitely need more garlic, basil, tomatoes...”


    Karl starts peeking into various containers and cupboards, joining in on the inventory. “Don’t forget the


    mushrooms and parmesan.”


    There’s a moment offortable silence as we both get absorbed in our task.


    Then, from a distance, the soft strumming of a guitar fills the space. It seems one of the staff has left a


    radio on.


    “Is that... Ed Sheeran?” Karl asks, looking up with a smile.


    I nod, swaying slightly to the rhythm. “Perfect. I haven’t heard this song in a while.”


    My head instinctively bobs to the music as I get back to work. But then, I feel a presence beside me. I


    look up to see Karl standing beside me, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.


    “Dance with me?” he asks.


    Shaking my head, I turn away slightly. “You’re ridiculous. We’ve got work to do.”


    “C’mon, Abby. We haven’t danced in so long.” Before I can stop him, he reaches out, grabbing my


    hand and twirling me around.


    I quickly pull away as a heat creeps up into my cheeks. “No.”


    But it’s toote. With a mischievousugh, Karl grabs me again, pulling me closer this time. I have no


    choice but to sway along with him, partially victim to his Alpha aura and partially victim to my own


    feelings.


    Before I know it, the cold, hard kitchen tiles are bing our dance floor as the soft lyrics echo around


    us.


    As the soft chords of the song fill the kitchen, Karl’s hand finds my waist, pulling me in closer. There’s a


    gentle pressure as his fingers dance against my back, guiding our movements. Our feet, somehow in


    sync, tap and slide against the cold tiles, creating a rhythm of their own.


    His eyes, intense and warm, lock onto mine. Every turn, every twirl is executed with a fluid grace that


    sends a rush of memories flooding back.


    Despite the time and distance that hase between us, the weight of Karl’s body against mine feels


    familiar,forting.


    I won’t admit it, but… I’ve missed this.


    I remember those nights we used to spontaneously decide to go out, drawn to the thumping beats of


    dance clubs and the infectious energy they promised. Karl had always been such a good dancer, an


    unexpected trait for someone of his stature and responsibility.


    His steps had a confidence, a surety to them that drew me in. The way he couldmand a dance


    floor was akin to the way he led our pack—with authority and finesse. Dancing with him wasn’t just


    about the steps or the music; it was an unspokennguage of passion, understanding, and connection.


    I used to love the feeling of being twirled under his arm, the heat of our bodies moving together, the


    exhration of losing ourselves to the beat. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of us


    and the rhythm that pulsed through our veins.


    His voice, low and slightly teasing, breaks my reverie, almost as though reading my thoughts.


    “Remember how we used to dance the night away? Every weekend, sometimes even on weekdays.”


    I blush, nodding. “I remember. You’d spin me around till I was dizzy, and we’dugh like kids, not caring


    about anyone watching.”


    Karl chuckles, his grip tightening around my waist for a brief moment. “There was that one time...” he


    begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “at that club downtown. We danced for hours, didn''t we? Until


    our feet ached and our clothes were soaked in sweat.”


    The memory surfaces, and I can’t help but giggle. “God, yes. We must’ve looked a mess by the time


    we left.”


    He smirks, his gaze bing more intense. “Well, dancing wasn’t the only activity that made us


    sweat, was it?”


    My eyes widen in mock horror, and I smack his chest, feigning indignation. “Karl! You absolute pig!”


    But my reprimandcks any real heat, and the flush that creeps up my face gives me away. His


    up a re.


    Theughter gradually dies down, reced by the soft hum of the music and the steady beat of our


    hearts. We’re closer now, our faces inches apart, our breaths mingling. The intensity of his gaze holds


    me captive, and for a split second, everything else fades away.


    But reality quickly crashes back in, reminding me of the boundaries, of the lines we’ve drawn. The lines


    that I’ve drawn.


    With a deep breath, I gently pull away, breaking the maic pull between us.


    Maybe because I suddenly notice how hungry I feel, or maybe because I want to change the subject, I


    gesture toward the fridge. “Are you hungry?” I ask him.


    He pauses, a hand on his stomach. “Starving, actually.”


    Smiling, I move to the refrigerator. “How about some pasta? You can help with that, too, since you


    seem to be so keen on it tonight.”


    Karl raises an eyebrow. “You trust me helping in the kitchen, after the paperwork fiasco?”


    “Let’s just say... I’m willing to risk it.” I wink, pulling out a packet of spaghetti and some fresh


    ingredients. “Can you handle chopping the garlic and tomatoes?”


    He salutes yfully. “Aye, aye, Captain.”


    Material ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    As I boil the water, I sneak nces at Karl. To my surprise, he’s deftly chopping the garlic, each piece


    uniform. The tomatoes are next, and he slices them with an ease that’s unexpected.


    “You’ve gotten better,” Iment, impressed.


    Karl smirks. “I may have been spying on the head chef during my breaks.”


    I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Trying to learn from the best in secret?”


    He shrugs, a sheepish smile ying on his lips. “Well, maybe I wanted to impress a certain someone.”


    I chuckle, sprinkling salt into the boiling water. “Trying to woo me with your newfound culinary skills?”


    “Is it working?” he asks, his tone teasing.


    Iugh, adding the pasta to the pot. “Maybe just a bit. But seriously, Karl, you don’t have to go to such


    lengths.”


    He looks up, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a seriousness there that wasn’t present a moment ago.


    “Abby, it’s never too much. Not for you.”


    A warmth spreads through my chest at his words. Here, in the middle of a silent kitchen, with Ed


    Sheeran crooning in the background and the scent of pasta wafting through the air, I feel an


    overwhelming sense of closeness to Karl. Our past may beplicated, filled with ups and downs, but


    this moment feels just right.


    We work in tandem, with me guiding him through the steps. Before long, we have a fragrant dish of


    garlic tomato spaghetti sprinkled generously with parmesan.


    Serving it onto tes, we sit side by side on the kitchen counter, digging in. The pasta is delightful—a


    perfect blend of vors.


    But what’s even more heartwarming is the shared experience of making it together.