27: Passion

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Zac sat on the edge of the bed, checking the time on his Rolex for what felt like the hundredth time. His stomach grumbled in protest. The fruits they'd nibbled on the yacht had done nothing for him—he needed real food, and he needed it now.

He looked over at Fatima, who was kneeling by her suitcase, rummaging through her neatly packed clothes. His gaze roamed over her bare back, her skin still slightly sun-kissed from the afternoon. She was moving with no sense of urgency, completely unbothered while he was suffering.

She glanced up, catching him staring. "What?" she asked, arching a brow.

"You tell me," he said, leaning back on his elbows.

She smirked, pulling out a black two-piece set. "You're wearing black. I have a black set to match you."

Zac immediately sat up straighter, his expression darkening. "Fatima, I swear to God, if you wear one of those thong bikinis again, I'm gonna lose my damn mind." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Fatima burst out laughing, shaking her head. "No, baby, relax. It's not a bikini—it's a set." She held up the matching wrap skirt as proof. "It's not my fault the bikini bottoms can't cover all this ass." She gave a teasing shrug, tossing the skirt onto the bed.

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. "It's like you do this shit on purpose."

"Maybe I do," she taunted, grabbing her top and slipping it on, adjusting the fabric before tying it behind her neck.

Zac sat back, watching her dress, his hunger momentarily forgotten.

Fatima grabbed her fragrance bottle and started spraying herself. He let out a sigh of relief—when he heard that sound, it meant she was done. Thank God, he thought.

"You ready now?" he asked once she was done, standing up and reaching for her hand.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go feed you before you turn into the Hulk," she teased, grabbing her bag.

Zac smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist as they headed out. "Too late."
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Zac led Fatima through the resort, his grip firm but relaxed as they made their way to what she thought was the buffet. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over everything. She was hungry and eager to eat, already thinking about what she'd pile on her plate first.

But as they walked past the entrance to the buffet, she frowned, tugging on his hand.

"Zac, where are we—"

He just smirked, pulling her along. "Patience."

Her curiosity deepened when they approached a private dining area near the infinity pool. It was stunning. Right on the water, a table for two was elegantly set, draped with a crisp white cloth, decorated with black and silver dinnerware, and flanked by two wooden chairs with dark blue cushions. The soft glow of lanterns reflected off the calm surface of the pool, mirroring the breathtaking hues of the sunset behind them. The ocean stretched into the horizon, and a pier extended into the distance, adding to the serene, luxurious atmosphere.

Fatima gasped, her lips parting in awe. Her heart clenched in the best way. She placed a hand over her chest, eyes darting between the table and Zac, who was watching her with quiet satisfaction.

"Oh my God..." she whispered. "This is so sweet."

"Only for you," he said, his voice rich with pride.

Their waiter stood by the table, waiting patiently. Fatima and Zac both removed their shoes, setting them down before stepping into the shallow waters. The coolness rippled around her ankles, her black skirt trailing in the water, the ends getting wet—but she didn't care. Not right now.

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