They cut across the wake of Brad’s jet ski, caught air for a heart-stopping moment, and landed hard.Marielle’s laughter—genuine, uninhibited—rang out over the engine noise.He wanted to chase that free, happy sound.
He took them out farther from the yacht, away from the others, and slowed to a stop.The sudden quiet was jarring.The only sounds were the slap of water against the hull and their breathing as they bobbed on the waves.
“That was incredible!”Marielle said, still holding onto him.
He twisted to look at her, and his breath caught.Her face was flushed, her eyes were bright, and the water droplets on her shoulders sparkled in the sun.She looked alive in a way he’d never seen her at the office, where she spent her days staring at screens and living in her head.
“You’re having fun,” he said, stupidly stating the obvious.
“I am.”She looked almost surprised by it.“I didn’t think I would be, given everything.”She gestured around them.“But this is amazing.”
“You’re amazing.”The words came out before he could stop them.
Her smile faltered.“Omar?—”
“I’m serious.You could have said no to this mission.By rights, you should have.This isn’t what you do.But you’re here, and you’re doing great, and—” He stopped himself before he said something he couldn’t take back.
“And?”
And I’m falling for you.And I have been for years.And this mission is torture because I get to touch you and hold you and kiss you but it’s all pretend, and I don’t know how I’m going to go back to just being friends when this is over.
“And I’m glad it’s you,” he said instead.“I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have as a partner.”
“Partner,” she repeated softly.
“Yeah.Partner.”
Then the roar of Brad’s jet ski shattered the silence as he circled back toward them, Poppy shrieking with laughter.
“You guys giving up already?”he taunted.
“Just getting started,” Omar called back.
He gunned the engine and they shot forward again, chasing Brad and Poppy across the sparkling water.Behind them, Idris and Hanna followed, and further back, the chase boat with its grim-faced occupants kept pace.
They raced for another thirty minutes—long enough that Omar’s arms ached from steering, long enough that the guards started making “wrap it up” gestures from the tender.Omar turned and circled back toward The Fakhar.
When they pulled up to the tender deck, two crew members were waiting.Omar watched them guide the jet skis back into their mounts without locking them into place.They hung the ignition keys back on the board.
He turned to Marielle.She was soaked, her bangs plastered to her forehead, her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes, and her olive skin already turning gold.She looked perfect.
“I need a shower,” she announced to no one in particular.“And maybe a nap.That was exhausting.”
“For someone who wasn’t sure about trying it, you did great out there,” Hanna said quietly.She’d climbed up behind them and stood dripping on the platform, maintaining a careful distance from everyone.“It looked like you were having so much fun.”
“I was,” Marielle enthused.“We should try driving next time.”
Longing flickered across Hanna’s face.Before she could answer, Idris jumped onto the platform with cat-like grace and landed beside her.
“Hanna doesn’t drive,” he said flatly.“She prefers to be a passenger.Isn’t that right,habibti?”
Hanna inhaled sharply as if the endearment pained her.“Right,” she murmured.
Omar caught Marielle’s hand and squeezed it before she could say something that would blow their cover.Her jaw was tight, but she managed a smile.
“Well, I’m going to go rinse off all this salt water,” she said brightly.“Oscar, coming?”
“Right behind you.”
