Chapter 266: Luna has self-doubts

**【Luna's Perspective】**

A message from Max appeared on the screen:

"Sorry, I must attend to Department of Defense visitors tonight. The dinner might end quite late, probably after eleven. Don't wait up for me, get some rest."

I had just typed "okay" and was about to hit send when another message arrived:

"Please sleep in our master bedroom, or I'll carry you back there myself, which might wake you."

I frowned at his commanding tone. Who did he think he was to dictate where I should sleep? I deleted my half-written response and set the phone aside without replying.

My thoughts drifted to the rejection letter I'd received that morning. My application to establish an independent research institute had been personally denied by President. After all the effort I'd put into the proposal, after all the careful planning—rejected without even a proper explanation. I couldn't help but wonder if Max had interfered. It would certainly explain the timing.

---

It was past eleven, and despite my usual habit of falling asleep by this hour, sleep had eluded me tonight. I quickly closed my eyes, feigning slumber as I heard Max's careful footsteps entering the bedroom.

He moved with deliberate quietness, his shoes barely making a sound against the hardwood floor. As he approached the bed, I caught the faint scent of whiskey mingled with his signature cologne. He paused beside me, and I felt his presence hovering close before he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead—so light it was barely perceptible.

Max retreated to the bathroom, not turning on the lights to avoid disturbing me. I listened to the muted sounds of running water as he prepared for bed. Strangely, his return brought an inexplicable sense of comfort, and I felt myself beginning to drift toward genuine sleep.

The mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the covers. Though I had positioned myself facing away from his side, I felt his arms carefully encircle me, drawing me against his chest with tender precision. In the haze between wakefulness and dreams, I didn't resist.

I awoke to an uncomfortable pressure against my lower back. Consciousness returned fully when I realized what it was—Max's morning reaction pressed firmly against me. His strong arm was draped across my waist, holding me securely against his chest.

Looking down, I noticed he wore only boxer briefs, his muscular torso bare. I tried to reach across him to check my phone on the nightstand, but the movement caused him to stir.

His eyes opened, immediately alert despite having just woken. Before I could stretch further, he reached for my phone and handed it to me.

"Thank you," I said stiffly, checking the time: 6:30 AM.

"Is the light too bright for you to sleep?" Max asked, his voice still rough from sleep.

I shook my head and attempted to lie back down, maintaining as much distance as possible. Max rose from the bed and walked to the window, drawing the specially designed blackout curtains closed. The room immediately darkened to a soft twilight.

I couldn't help but notice his almost naked form—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined from years of military training and disciplined exercise. A flutter of awareness passed through me, and I quickly ducked beneath the covers, forcing my eyes closed.

When he returned to bed, I shifted toward the edge, turning my back to him once more. I heard his breathing change, sensed his disappointment, but he made no move to bridge the gap I'd created. Instead, he simply moved closer to my hair, inhaling its scent.

It struck me then—Max only dared to kiss me, to hold me, when he thought I was asleep. When I was awake, he kept his distance, respecting boundaries I had established.

As sleep reclaimed me, a troubling question echoed in my mind: *Do I truly no longer love him? Then why does my heart race at his touch?*

When I next awoke, the space beside me was empty and cold. Max had left hours ago, judging by the temperature of the sheets. After showering and dressing, I made my way to the living room where Violet was watching a popular television series.

"Good morning," she greeted, pausing the show. "Or should I say afternoon? It's almost noon."

"I slept longer than usual," I admitted, settling into an armchair.

Violet smiled knowingly. "That's good. You've been having trouble sleeping lately."

"By the way," I said, changing the subject, "have you considered giving Kevin a chance? He seems quite interested in you."

Violet's cheeks flushed. "Me and Kevin? No, that wouldn't work. I'm just your security chief."

I was about to press the issue when I caught myself wondering where Max had gone so early. I immediately scolded myself for caring.

"Any news about your Department of Defense research institute application?" Violet asked.

I sighed. "President Sterling rejected it personally."

"That's disappointing. When do you plan to return to the Langley headquarters? Your maternity leave is more than half over."

"Soon, I suppose," I replied vaguely.

"Max has been exhausting himself commuting between DC and Langley just to see you," Violet observed. "It can't be easy managing the company while constantly traveling."

"I never asked him to do that," I countered.

Violet's expression softened. "For him, home is wherever you are, Luna."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Has he bribed you to speak well of him?"

She laughed. "I'm just stating facts."

"Let's have lunch," I suggested, standing up. "Then we need to go shopping for a formal dress."

"What for?"

"I've received an invitation to a dinner hosted by Grace Sterling, the President's daughter."

Violet's eyes widened. "The President's daughter? Why would she invite you?"

"I have no idea, but it's not an invitation I can decline, given who it's from."

"We should tell Max," Violet suggested immediately.

"I'd rather not," I replied, shaking my head.

Violet frowned. "Then I'm definitely accompanying you. This could be dangerous, especially with William and Peter still at large."

As we prepared to leave, I pushed thoughts of Max from my mind.