Undercover Hate

Chapter Nine: Enemies to Worse Enemies Is So Underrated

I stand in front of the mirror, admiring my outfit. The sleek, midnight blue spy suit hugs my curves just right, and the subtle silver accents catch the light perfectly. I pull my hair back into a high ponytail, leaving a few loose strands to frame my face. As I turn to check the back, a flash of movement catches my eye outside. I lean closer to the window and see Ace pull up in his sleek black car, looking annoyingly dapper as usual.

"Great," I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes. Just as I finish my little pep talk, I grab my bag and head out.

When I reach the car, Ace steps out, a smug smile plastered on his face. "Wow, you look nice," he says, and I can't help but notice the genuine tone in his voice. It's annoying how easy it is for him to pull off that cocky charm.

"Thanks, I guess," I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral as I slide into the passenger seat. "Let's just get this over with."

As we drive to the restaurant, an awkward silence settles between us, the tension palpable like static in the air. The city lights flicker by, casting fleeting shadows across the interior of Ace's car. I stare out the window, watching the world zip past, my mind racing as I replay the thought of anytime Ace and I had been civil.

"Nice night, huh?" Ace attempts, his voice light, but I can hear the undercurrent of nervousness.

"Sure," I reply, keeping my tone flat.

He glances at me, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's trying not to laugh. "So, uh, how was your day?"

"Uneventful," I say, still not looking at him. "You know, just the usual drama."

"Ah, drama. That's your specialty, isn't it?" He chuckles softly, but it feels forced. I can sense the frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

"Yeah, well, you should know," I shoot back, finally turning to face him. "You're practically a walking disaster zone."

Ace raises an eyebrow, but I can see the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Touché. I can't argue with that one."

"Good," I say, turning my gaze back to the passing lights. "Glad we agree on something."

The silence stretches between us again, heavier this time. I can feel Ace stealing glances at me, probably trying to gauge my mood, and it annoys me more than I care to admit. "So, are you excited about this dinner?" he asks, attempting to break through the thick tension.

"Excited? Hardly. It's just another chore," I reply dryly, folding my arms over my chest.

He sighs, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. "Anastasia said we need to work on our 'team dynamics.' This isn't a punishment, you know."

I snort. "Right. Because being forced to have dinner with you is definitely a team-building exercise."

"I mean, it could be worse," he replies, glancing at me again. "We could be stuck in a boring meeting instead."

"Don't jinx it," I mutter, refusing to look at him. "This is already as boring as it gets."

"Okay, okay. No more boring topics. What about the latest gadgets?" He tries again, his enthusiasm peeking through. "Did you see the new tech that came in?"

I shrug, my lack of interest evident. "Not really. I'm more concerned with getting through this dinner without throwing my drink in your face."

He chuckles again, but it's laced with a hint of frustration. "You really know how to make a guy feel appreciated."

"Just stating the facts," I say, and for a moment, I can see him trying to suppress a smile, but it quickly fades.

We finally pull up to the restaurant, the neon sign flashing above us. As we step out, Ace holds the door open for me, his expression a mix of bravado and uncertainty. "After you," he says, a half-smirk on his face.