ZARA'S POV.
I've lied to men before. Hell, I've lied to nations.
But something about lying to him — Leo with his smirk and his sun-drenched curls — makes me feel like I'm the one getting played.
The sun was dipping low, casting a honey-gold glow over the beach. I should've been focused on the mission — analyzing the guest list, planting a bug in Rico Vargas's office, or decoding the data from my last drone flyover.
But instead, I was standing barefoot in the sand, biting my lip, watching Leo surf like the ocean belonged to him.
"That wave is ridiculous," I muttered, watching him catch it clean, twist his body, and ride it all the way to shore. And because the universe is a tease, he caught me watching. Again.
He jogged toward me, board tucked under one arm, saltwater dripping off his sculpted chest.
"You spying on me, travel blogger?" he teased, giving me that cocky little wink.
"No," I said too quickly. "Just admiring your posture."
He grinned. "You sure you don't want a lesson?"
"You sure you can handle teaching me?"
He stepped closer. "Only one way to find out."
My skin buzzed under his gaze. Stupid. Dangerous. But when he reached out and brushed a wet strand of hair off my cheek, I swear my knees turned to papaya jelly.
He's your prime suspect, I reminded myself. Not your island fling.
But then he said, "You've got secrets in your eyes, Zara. Makes me curious."
And I swear I almost told him everything.
<<<<<
LEO'S POV.
She's good. Too good.
Zara Cruz. Travel blogger, my ass. She's always watching, always calculating — like someone trained to notice details the average tourist would miss.
Which makes her either a threat… or something worse.
An operative.
I played the flirt — taught her to stand on a surfboard, laughed when she fell, even let my hands linger on her waist a little longer than necessary. But when she smiles? It's like she's wearing armor made of dimples and lipstick.
I caught her near the resort office last night, just after the staff meeting. She claimed she was looking for the spa. But she was standing way too close to Rico's locked storage room. And today, I saw her discreetly drop something into her beach tote that looked suspiciously like a signal jammer.
She's here for a reason. And if it's the same reason I'm here... we're going to have a problem.
Problem is, I like problems that smell like coconuts and sass-talk like fire.
So tonight, I invited her to the luau.
I need to test her. Watch how she reacts when Rico's men show up. See what she knows.
But when she walked in wearing that red backless dress?
All my intel vanished like seafoam.
<<<<<
ZARA'S POV.
The luau was a riot of fire dancers, coconut cocktails, and too many fake laughs.
I scanned the crowd: Rico standing with his enforcers. Sienna whispering something to a guest with a too-fancy Rolex. And Leo… leaning against a tiki torch, watching me.
He looked dangerously edible in a dark button-down rolled at the sleeves. My stomach fluttered as he crossed the lawn toward me, two drinks in hand.
"One for the blogger," he said, handing me a coconut drink with a pineapple slice. "And one for your… mystery."
I sipped. "You flirt with all your students?"
He chuckled. "Only the ones hiding government-grade wiretaps in their beach bags."
My eyes narrowed. Damn. He knows something.
Before I could deflect, fireworks exploded in the sky. Loud, chaotic — and my gut said wrong timing. That wasn't scheduled until later.
Leo grabbed my hand.
"What was that?" I asked, scanning the treeline.
He looked around too, serious now. "Something's off."
Suddenly, a scream tore through the night. A waiter burst from the resort path — bleeding, limping, shouting something in Hawaiian.
Then silence. Everyone froze.
Rico appeared, calm as always, speaking softly to the crowd. "Fireworks went wrong," he said. "Minor injury. The party continues."
But Leo and I exchanged a glance.
We both knew it wasn't fireworks.
It was a warning.
<<<<<
LEO'S POV.
We barely made it out of the crowd before the fake smiles returned.
I pulled Zara behind the tiki bar, away from the security cameras. Her chest was rising fast, adrenaline still pumping.
"That wasn't an accident," I said.
"I know," she whispered.
I grabbed her hand again. "Tell me the truth. Who are you?"
She looked up at me — her lips parted, eyes unreadable — and for a second, I thought she'd say it. That she'd admit what I already knew.
But she didn't. Instead, she leaned in.
And kissed me.
<<<<<
ZARA'S POV.
It was the dumbest, smartest thing I've ever done.
His lips were warm, firm, and tasted like danger. But I needed to stop the questions. Blur the lines.
So I kissed him like I meant it.
Because maybe I did.
But as soon as I pulled back, I saw it in his eyes: suspicion, heat… and something like hurt.
"Who are you really, Zara?"
My heart pounded. I couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet. Not when I still wasn't sure if he was on my side.
So I whispered, "Someone who kisses better than she lies."
Then I turned and disappeared into the night — my heart a thunderstorm.