Page 26 of Damián

Instead, a snort escapes her, followed by a giggle. And then, she falls back against the cushions and bursts out laughing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my moral support.”

“You… you’ve got to be kidding me,” she chokes out, wiping tears from her eyes. “You have to fake-fuck a spy?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Not quite fake… We’ll have to lean heavily on the PDA to keep Rafael away from us, but the rest will be fake.”

“Ugh, gross, Ollie. I get you’re always doing your best to help others, but you can’t go making out with old agents or doing something that makes you uncomfortable.”

I remember how Damián’s hands moved over my body, how his lips felt, and how my mind went completely blank the moment his tongue curled around mine.

I remember his smile, the striking shades of brown in his eyes, the delicious scrape of his stubble, and how warm and hard his body felt against me.

Hell, I remember a lot of things about that moment, but “uncomfortable” is definitely not one of them.

“Well… I wouldn’t call it uncomfortable,” I admit.

“What would you call it? Disgusting?”

“…Distracting.”

Zara sits up immediately, as if the word just bolted her back to life. “Distracting? Shut up! Show me a picture.”

“What?! Why would I have a picture? I just met him.”

Zara holds out her hand, palm up, and waits.

“Zara, I don’t have any—”

She snaps her fingers.

“Fine,” I grumble, digging out my phone. “I might have… hacked his sister’s socials. You know, before they erased any trace of him belonging to the Harknett family.”

“You hacked his sister?”

“Yeah… For operational awareness purposes, of course.”

“Right. Operational awareness.”

I unlock the phone and scroll until I see it.

It’s a beautiful picture someone took of Damián while he wasn’t looking. He’s laughing next to a brunette woman with an adorable kid in her lap, leaning back on the pool’s edge with water dripping off his shoulders. He is all golden skin, wet hair, and a smile so bright it feels almost illegal to look at.

I sigh, and with reluctance, I turn the phone and show her.

Zara’s eyes go wide, and after what feels like forever, she lifts her gaze from the phone to my face, and then back to the phone.

“Oh, my GOD! What the fuck!” she shrieks, even louder than she did the day we went to The Eras tour. “Oh, Oliver. You are so screwed!”

“Zara! Keep it down!”

“Screwed! Done for! Cooked! How… how in God’s name are you, an adorable, blushing virgin, supposed to play the casual hookup to a man who looks like that?”

“It’s not funny, Z!” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “It’s a freaking disaster!”

“Oh, it’s a disaster,” she agrees, breathless from laughing. “But it’s also hilarious. Like, Ollie, you are a genius. You’ve literally been outsmarting the most dangerous crime monster in the world since you were thirteen… but you’re going to pretend to be this spy’s fuckbuddy? How exactly are you going to pull that off without anyone finding out?”

“I can do it. You know I’ve done worse to get the intel I needed.”