Page 27 of Damián

“Yeah… I wasn’t talking about the intel. I was talking about the fucking part.”

My face turns a shade of red that would probably make a Marvel villain jealous.

Ugh, I’m so damn lame.

“Okay, at least tell me this Damián guy knows.”

I don’t have to ask what she means… Does he know it’s all a lie?

That I don’t touch drugs, I’ve never dated, and every single paparazzi photo of my alleged hookups was staged? Does he know I’ve never actually had sex?

That, in fact, our absolutely phenomenal kiss against the bathroom wall was the first time a man’s tongue had ever touched mine?

Of course, he doesn’t.

But why tell her all that? Instead, I look away and focus very hard on a stack of Vogue magazines on the coffee table.

“Oliver, you have to tell him. That man can’t be pushing you against bathroom walls and dressers unless he knows it’s all new to you.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not telling him I’m a twenty-nine-year-old virgin. I’m already mortified and embarrassed enough, thank you very much.”

“Babe, that man looks like he eats other spies for breakfast.” She shoves the phone back against my chest. “You need to tell him, and not just for your own sake. If you pretend to be his fuckbuddy, anyone with eyes will be able to tell how inexperienced you are the moment you start shaking.”

“But—”

“No buts, Oliver. If Rafael sees how inexperienced you are, he will know all those ‘hookups’ you had were staged. And if he realizes that part of your life is a lie…”

“…he’ll know the rest is, too.”

“Exactly. This is not a good time for him to find that out. Especially when they’re trying to find out who is leaking information to the agencies.”

“We are so screwed,” I say, closing my eyes, feeling resigned and just tired of all this shit.

“No, we are not.” Zara smiles mischievously. “You just need to change the plan.”

I open one eye to glare at her. “How? It took me six months to find an opening just to get the CIA into the house.”

“I’m not talking about changing the mission. I’m talking about changing your angle. Think about it, Ollie: what do a lifelong manwhore and a terrified virgin have in common?”

“Their love for burgers?”

“No…” She rolls her eyes. “They both look like goddamn idiots when they fall in love.”

I blink at her. “I don’t get it.”

“Your problem is that you’re trying to make them believe you guys are just having casual sex. That’s where you’ll fail because you can’t fake being a player with a guy who looks like that. Hell, you’ll probably faint the first time he takes off his shirt.”

I glare at her, but I say nothing, mostly because she is right.

“But… and there is a huge but… if you make sure everyone knows you’re serious about him, even if they see you shake or get all flustered, no one will question your supposed Playboy past. They’ll just see another manwhore who turned into a blushing mess the second he caught real feelings.”

“Okay… but how do I do that?”

“Tell the hot spy you’re changing the terms of the deal from fuckbuddies to actual boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends…” I mull the idea over, letting it take shape in my head.

Damián, my boyfriend…