SACRIFICE | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tommy delivered the goods. On Jace's request, the gypsy king provided keys to a panther black Land Rover and fraudulent identification cards. Of course, I am a typical, nosey female. I asked to see my impermanent identity. "Victoria," I read, spurning the blonde mugshot. "Victoria Rose. Seriously, Jace?" I reached for his card, dodging his hand as he worked the gearstick. "Nathan?" I laughed. Oh, God, I laugh. "These are insane. This dude has long hair, Nath," I enunciated, and his lip twitched. "Long, black hair."

On instinct, Jace combed a hand through his brown mane. "Grab the holdall from the back."

Arching a tweezer-required eyebrow, I obeyed, hauling the bag onto my lap. "My girl has chubby cheeks." Tugging the zipper, I fossick through glad rags, synthetic wigs and killer high heels. "And she has blue eyes..." I opened blue, disposable contact lenses. "Shit." When I look at him, I find him watching me. "You were serious about living incognito, huh?"

Jace merged the vehicle across the M4, powering through the fast lane. "I don't think you're taking it seriously enough, Victoria." Adjusting his sunglasses, he lowers the music, so that we can talk. "One, Flamur Bajramovic believes I'm beating you into submission back on the Isle of Man. Two, he has custody of my baby girl. If I mess up? I'll lose her. I am not risking her life for negligence. Three, Warren will turn London upside down if he gets a whiff that you're not dead—"

"Liam will find out, eventually," I said, and his knuckles whitened, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "What? I can't help that I miss him, Jace."

"Not yet, though." He applies force to the accelerator. "You can go back to your perfect life with Warren. But give me a chance to board a plane with Summer first. He'll kill me. You know it; I know it."

He's right. If Liam uncovers the truth behind my death, he'll torture Jace, dismantle his body and feed his limbs to wild boars.

"Vick." I lift the waist-length blonde wig, examining the bouncy curls. "If I must change my name? Call me, Vick."

"Vick," he repeated, lips pursing in a refrained smirk. "It kinda has a ring to it."

Snapping the bobble from my wrist, I drag my hair back into a messy knot and arrange the wig on my head. Pulling down the visor mirror, I study my reflection and pick the white bandage from my face. I touch the jagged scar beneath my eye, pleased to see it's healed nicely. "What else did Tommy pack?" I opened a cosmetic case and suppressed a smile. "Makeup."

"Sheila organised it for you."

After tweezing the eyebrows, I applied a thin layer of foundation to my face, added a speck of shimmering dust to my cheeks and then spent a ridiculous amount of time fixing the contact lenses. I groaned, complained, and almost threw those rubbery bastards out of the window. "I did it!" Blinking to clear my stinging vision, I showed him my right eye. "Now I have to spend half an hour doing the other one."

Jace guffaws, veering the Land Rover off the M4. "I like the whole heterochromia look."

"Do you have to wear contacts?" I asked, rechecking his identification card. "Oh, of course, Nathan has green eyes. How convenient for you?" The second contact fell into place without much fuss. Finalised with eyeliner, mascara and nude-coloured lipstick, I shimmied out of the jogging pants, pulled on high-waist skinny jeans, lost the hoodie and tucked a figure-hugging white shirt into the trouser waistband. I tweaked my lace bra, slipped my feet into nude stilettos and doused myself in divine-smelling perfume. "I feel human again."

"Shit," Jace whistles, cracking his knuckles. "You look hot, Vick."

"Thank you." A hopeless shade heated my cheeks. "Can you see the real me beneath the disguise, though?"