vi. FAKE DATE NIGHTS

Ace's breath is still hot against my skin when I see my target, Ethan Tansin. His words echo inside my mind—"You have to wear that dress more often."

I can't help but become red at the blatant remark. Although right now, I shove all thoughts aside except for those relating to how to steal information from Ethan.

He's sitting in a seat right up against the bar. His dim silhouette shows well-groomed hair, the faint outline of a dark suit, and a Rolex adorned hand that clutches a half-empty bourbon. Alright. So our guy likes whiskey.

Dirty blond stubble scatters across his tightened jawline. The man stares blankly at his drink. He rotates it aimlessly between periodic sips, indicating some sort of deep thought.

I weave through the sea of people sitting down at tables to the empty seat next to Ethan.

"A scotch malt please. You know what, make it two," I motion to the bartender. A long, exaggerated sigh escapes my lips. I run a hand smoothly through my hair, letting strands fall to my face.

This catches Ethan's interest. I mentally thank Cosmo for this one flirting tip that actually worked.

"Having a rough night?" He asks.

"You have no idea." I take a scotch malt and down half the glass. Smooth, burning liquid slides down my throat, almost making my eyes water. Scratch that, my eyes were definitely watering like I'm watching the Titanic.

But drinking all that alcohol served its purpose—Ethan is now fully intrigued.

He raises both hands in defeat. "Must be some shit if you're downing eighty proof."

I lower my glass. "Sorry, I'm being rude. How's your night been?"

Ethan let out a dry laugh. "Let's just say it's been pretty shitty as well." A pang of guilt entered my stomach. I force it down using the rest of the intoxicating scotch. Ethan's had a hard night, and here I was, stringing this guy along as part of a CIA assessment.

It's fine Octavia. Focus. Just don't hurt him.

"Ava Jensen," I introduce while extending my hand. Ethan meets my hand with his. "Ethan Tansin," he returns.

"Ava," he says, the slick sound rolling off his tongue like the whiskey itself. "Since we're both dealing with issues, why don't we see if we can give each other advice."

I manage a charmed smile. "Alright. My ex-boyfriend just walked in here with his new girlfriend one week after we broke up. Worst part? She's never had a boyfriend. My ex is just using her to get back at me."

Ethan lets out a low whistle. "Which one is he?"

I tilt my glass to where Ace is playing pool with a red-haired girl. His hand lightly brushes against hers, but his eyes still flicker to meet mine. Of course, the girl he's playing pool with is just his assignment, but even so, a tightness clenches my chest.

Am I jealous?

Geez, get over it. It's just professional.

"Do you have any advice for me?" I implore.

Ethan's hand brushes over his stubble. "It seems that he's not entirely focused on his date. You could either walk out of this situation, or get back at him."

I raise my eyebrow in curiosity. "I'm not one to back out of difficulty. How do you suggest I get back at him?"

A mischievous smirk passes his face. "By making him jealous."

What he implies is as plain as day. Ethan's figure wavers over mine; he seems satisfied with himself because he verbally egged a girl into essentially making out with him.

I imitate a surprised laugh while looking at him with downcast eyes. "Now you're talking."

Ethan's hand lifts my chin up to meet his eyes. He gently brings my lips to meet his, and pretty soon, his hands are on my waist.

Our kiss lasts about ten seconds. In those ten seconds, while his hands were captivated with my satin red dress, my hands were busy reaching into his wallet—and stealing his credit card.

Training hours with Skye on pickpocketing had finally paid off.

I break away from Ethan, heart racing with adrenaline, after the smooth card is in my palm. My fingertips run across the raised numbers to be sure this was indeed the credit card. Ethan has a pleased grin imprinted on his face. By the uneven rising of his chest, it was safe to say that he was impressed.

I excuse myself to leave for the bathroom. Just to make sure my target is fully beguiled, I throw him a wink.

I quickly take a picture of the card with my phone once I'm in a closed stall. Full of excitement, I unapologetically break out into an embarrassing victory dance.

Now all that had to be done was to return it without Ethan noticing it was missing at all.

I exit the bathroom and sashay back to where my target sat. Only now, he wasn't alone. Ace sat right to him.

And Ethan was shouting at him.

~

"What's wrong with you, man?" Ethan sneers. "Stop following Ava."

Ace deadpans him. He doesn't know that I lied to Ethan. Ace's mouth was slightly ajar when he catches my eye.

My eyes are completely wide. Promptly, Ace registers the situation and covers me. "I just wanted a drink. You need to stay out of Ava's and my business."

"Come on Ethan," I mumble. "This dirtbag isn't worth it."

But Ethan doesn't let it go. He does the exact opposite. He shoves Ace.

If only Ethan knew that he just shoved a deadly CIA agent.

I don't exactly know why Ethan thought he should interfere, but my best guess is a mix of pent-up testosterone and wanting to impress me. Ace barely budges. He stares straight ahead, ignoring Ethan, and continues drinking from his glass of rum.

All our commotion has attracted a crowd of people. Shamelessly and blatantly written on their faces was excitement at the prospect of seeing a bar brawl.

"Let's go, Ethan," I plead. I grab onto his arm and try to pull him away.

While he's preoccupied with Ace, I slip his credit card back into his wallet.

Ethan's eyes have a glazed look over them, like they're hungering for a fight. The dark sensation inside of him needs to be fed. So he throws a punch at Ace.

Ace stops his punch halfway through.

Ace twists Ethan's fist slightly, causing the latter to curse out in pain. Ace then pushes past the crowd of people waiting for a fight and exits the bar.

"You're an idiot," I spit at Ethan. Seriously. What kind of person wants to fight someone else that badly? I too, make my way out of the disappointed crowd.

Ace is leaning against a lamppost in the cold night; it's the only source of light on the street. We observe the night sky with silence for a while. The cold air stiffens my arms, and I furiously rub my hands together to revive the circulation.

Ace shakes his head with a grin but takes off his jacket and drapes it across my shoulders. I wrap it tightly around me.

"I hope you know you're the first person I'm affecting if I get hypothermia." A puff of frost lingers around Ace's breath.

"I'm not even mad. You know why?" I taunt, "I won our bet. I stole my target's credit card faster than you did." I pull out my phone to show him the pictures.

Ace smirks. "Please Cupcake, I got mine within the first three minutes."
He shows me the pictures of his target's credit card; sure enough, it has a timestamp earlier than mine. My jaw drops, flabbergasted.

"Looks like you're going to be wearing that dress a lot more often."

Ace: "I'll kiss Octavia if you vote ;)"