Shane Prescott's breath caught as he watched Luna Valentine's rare smile.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners like winter sunlight melting frost, transforming her usually aloof demeanor completely.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice rough.

"I've been assigned a mission. Can't make it to the northwest tomb site. Please look after Professor Moore for me."

"He's family to me too."

Luna nodded. "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Walking her downstairs, Shane's footsteps dragged. The path felt criminally short.

"Something else?" Luna turned.

His gaze dropped to her lips. The ripe cherry hue made his throat tighten with forbidden hunger.

The tips of his ears burned scarlet.

Noticing his flushed ears, Luna suppressed a laugh. For all his rugged wildness, the man blushed like a schoolboy.

"Go home," she waved.

"Your number? To update you on the professor."

After exchanging contacts, Luna headed upstairs.

Vincent Valentine sat rigid in the living room. "Dating someone?"

"Just a friend." Her expression remained neutral.

His brows furrowed. "Silas Prescott's son? That wanted criminal! You're in a classified unit—he'd never pass the political review."

Luna's fingers twitched. "Noted."

Under the dim bedroom lamp, she flipped book pages without comprehension.

Shane's sharply chiseled face kept intruding. A thirty-year-old man shouldn't be this endearingly bashful.

She pressed palms to her heated cheeks.

Her phone vibrated.

[Luna, I like you.]

Her heartbeat stuttered. The callback met only silence.

Shaking her head, she chuckled—until her father's warning resurfaced like ice water.

Burying under blankets brought no relief. Behind closed lids, Shane's intense gaze haunted her.

This wasn't like her. Control had always been her armor.

Outside the Sullivan estate, Shane glared at his phone. "No more meddling."

Natalie Sullivan planted hands on hips. "Coward! If you like her, chase her!"

"She's not like you."

"Women want initiative!" Natalie stamped her foot. "Hurry up and marry! I want to be an aunt!"

Shane pressed his lips. "Can't rush this."

"Thirty and still dawdling!" She stormed off in a huff.

Victor Sullivan approached his sulking daughter in the parlor. "Who upset you?"

"My brother! Acting like a scared rabbit over some girl!"

His eyes lit up. "Whose daughter?"

"Not telling!" She turned her back on him.

After fruitless calls from his study, Victor finally traced Luna through his security team.

"Go for it!" He encouraged Shane. "You're my son—more than good enough for her!"

Silence.

"Win over her parents!"

"I've looted tombs." Shane's voice turned gravelly.

"Money fixes everything!"

"Not this." Shane ended the call.

His carving knife shaped peach wood into Luna's likeness—short hair, striking features.

Kyle Grant entered. "Your muse?"

Shane hastily concealed the figurine.

"Luna Valentine?" Kyle arched a brow. "From the Special Ops Unit?"

Shane's ears reddened again.

"Late bloomer." Kyle chuckled.

"I'm only thirty!"

Kyle stepped out to call Ethan Sullivan. "Track down every artifact Shane sold. To marry, he needs a clean slate."

A pause. Then: "Understood."