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“But you—”
“Will take my time later. Now, sit.”
I fall into the chair. In the mirror, my hair's a wreck, my cheeks flushed.
“Here,” he says, pulling over a cosmetic bag. When he bends to kiss my cheek, my scent lingers on him.
“Are you going to wash… me… off you?”
“Not a fucking chance. Head straight.”
We get to work. I smooth primer over my skin while he combs my hair into a tight knot. I brush foundation over my face while he shakes out the red wig. I do my eye makeup while he pins it into place. Lip gloss glides over my lips while he adjusts the wig.
“There,” he says, bending to kiss my cheek. “Gorgeous.”
Then he spins me around. “You do what I say. No risks unless I clear them. Stay by my side.” He gives me a sharp slap on the ass. “Let's go.”
Chapter Fifteen
TORIN
There's a glint in her eyes that tells me she likes this plan. She may not enjoy where we're going, and she definitely told me she wishes she had more preparation, but she looks fucking stunning and knows it. The red wig falls down her side, long and vibrant. Her makeup is bold, and the dress? Fuck, that dress. She looks like a goddamn queen.
She walks gracefully in high heels toward our ride idling at the curb. I’m behind her, my hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the back of the car.
“Why don't you have a disguise?” she asks as we slide into our seats.
“Because I want them to know exactly who I am.”
Her lips are pressed together. “You have the tracker?”
I hold open my palm. She nods, processing, and I go over all the details as we head over.
“Your name is Theresa Cogliera. Your visiting family. Be as vague as possible when they ask you questions.”
“Is that a real person?”
I shake my head. “No, but it's just vague enough that anyone who looked you up would find a couple of hits and have to dig. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“You make this sound so easy.”
I shrug. “When you pay half a million quid to get into an event, it’s easy.”
“You paid how much?” Her eyebrows rise.
I shake my head. “It's worth it. Now pay attention. Your goal tonight is to mingle, come off natural, and find out what you can about the Boston Irish. Mention O'Brien. Mention the others. Play nice and see what you can dig up. I’m finding Declan’s contact. Got it?”
“Yes, of course,” she says, eyeing the privacy screen between the back seat and the front with suspicion. “How do you know that driver is trustworthy?”
“His father and mine go way back.” That's all I tell her. His father owes mine a favor. He fucks us up, and the wrath will be swift and severe. “Remember what I told you.”
“Yes, yes,” she says, nodding. “If anybody grabs me, I fall deadweight.” She grins. “Tap two fingers right on the bollocks.”
Why is it so cute when she talks Irish?
She lifts my hand, frowning.
“Torin.” Her brow knits. “It's not smart to go into something like this bleeding. They could have evidence on you. They'd wonder how you got that on your hand.”
