ZARA'S POV.
It was past midnight, and Maui's shoreline shimmered under the moonlight, wild and silver. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks should've been calming — but all I felt was a hurricane beneath my ribs.
Leo's hand was still wrapped around mine from the last wave we caught together, his grip steady. Too steady.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice low and husky as we walked along the beach barefoot.
I shook my head. "Too much coconut water."
He smirked, not buying it.
The problem wasn't the drinks. It was him. This surf god with tousled hair and a body carved by Poseidon himself… was also my prime suspect.
And the more time I spent with him, the harder it became to tell where the lies ended and the longing began.
Earlier tonight, we'd laughed. Danced. I'd felt safe. Which was not part of the plan. I was supposed to investigate. Get close. Expose the laundering operation. Not feel butterflies when he looked at me like I was the only girl on the island.
"So," he said slowly, his fingers brushing mine, "tell me something about yourself that's not on your little blog."
Crap. The fake travel blog. "Um… I'm afraid of seahorses," I blurted.
He blinked. "Seahorses?"
"Don't judge me."
He laughed — a real, delicious sound that made my stomach flip.
Then he stopped walking.
And I felt it — the shift. The silence. The tension humming between us.
"I'm afraid of something too," he murmured.
"What's that?"
His eyes locked onto mine, deep and unreadable. "You."
<<<<<
LEO'S POV.
I shouldn't have said that. But it slipped out, raw and unfiltered. Because the truth? Zara Cruz scared the hell out of me. Not just her curves or her sharp tongue or the way she saw through me like I was made of glass. But the secrets I could feel pulsing underneath her smile.
She wasn't just a travel blogger. That much I knew. She asked too many questions. Vanished too easily. Watched everyone like she was taking mental notes. And don't get me started on that little device I saw sticking out of her bag last night — looked an awful lot like a bug scanner.
Still, I couldn't stay away. She was danger dipped in honey. The kind that could ruin me. I stepped closer. Her breath caught.
"Why me?" she whispered.
I didn't answer. Instead, I leaned in, lips inches from hers. I wasn't sure if I was going to kiss her… or confront her. But then—BOOM. A blast echoed in the distance. Fire. Screams.
The resort's back generator exploded in a flash of smoke and sparks. We both turned, instincts kicking in.
Zara's entire face changed. Calm. Focused. Sharp. I knew it then — without a doubt. She was no blogger.
She took off running toward the noise without hesitation. I followed.
Seconds later, we found ourselves at the edge of the explosion zone, people scattering, hotel staff shouting, sprinklers raining down like a monsoon.
"Stay back!" a security guard yelled.
But Zara didn't even flinch. She slid past him with ease, pulling out something from under her beach coverup — a badge?
I blinked. "Zara?"
She turned to me, panting, soaked, hair clinging to her face.
"I can explain," she said breathlessly. "But not here."
My heart pounded.
So it was true.
She wasn't who she said she was.
And suddenly... neither was I.
<<<<<
ZARA'S POV.
I had seconds before backup arrived.
This wasn't supposed to happen yet. I was meant to gather evidence quietly — not have my cover blown mid-kiss with a shirtless Adonis who might be laundering money with the Valdez Cartel.
But then he said something that shook me.
"Zara. I think we need to talk… because you're not the only one with secrets."
My stomach dropped.
Wait—what?