MasukEli Michealson owns Las Vegas. The casinos, the power, the fear that follows his name everywhere he goes. Known as the Ghost, he is ruthless, untouchable, and completely uninterested in anything that does not bend to his will. Brigail Havens is just trying to survive. A broke Southern girl with a sharp tongue, a painful past, and debts that refuse to stay buried. She did not come to Vegas to gamble with her life. She came to work, to pay what her family owes, and to keep her head down. Their worlds collide over a poker table where nothing is as simple as it seems. Eli is convinced Brigail is hiding something, tied to a man who once tried to destroy him. Brigail wants nothing to do with a powerful billionaire who thinks he can intimidate his way into the truth. But defiance sparks obsession, and curiosity turns dangerous when Eli decides the only way to control the game is to own every piece of it, including her job, her freedom, and maybe her heart. She does not trust him. He does not know how to let her go. In a city built on lies, money, and temptation, one wrong move could cost everything. And falling for the one person you should never want might be the most dangerous bet of all.
Lihat lebih banyakPOV: ELI / BRIGAILThree months later.His fingers stilled on the round, raised edge of skin just below her breast.He made himself breathe through it. It's only a scar. She's here. She's fine.She turned toward him and worked her fingers through his hair, slow and deliberate, the way she did when she knew he was in his head."I hate this," he said."I know. You've told me approximately a million times.""Pam knows a surgeon.""I want to keep it." She touched it herself, lightly. "It's my Purple Heart."He looked at her in the dark. "It's the night I failed to protect you.""It's the night you came through a door alone and unarmed because every second counted," she said. "Which one of us is right?"He didn't answer. He ran his thumb along the edge of the scar instead, as gently as he knew how.The first time they made love after the accident, he had been so careful with her that she told him to stop treating her like she was made of glass. He had taken mild offense to that. No one had
POV: ELIHe was already moving when Pam burst through the revolving doors."She still needs to finish Barry's admission form," Pam said, falling into step beside him. "You have to go to the MGM. Burnham's there with the Feds. If we wait for her, we lose Russell and there's no one to arrest."Eli looked at the doors. "Let's go."The arrest went exactly as planned.Russell's face when he saw the empty vault. Felipe stepping out of the shadow with the nine millimeter. The cops and Feds filing in behind Burnham. Russell's wrists in cuffs. The Miranda rights delivered with the particular satisfaction of a man who had waited a long time to say them."Manufacturing and distribution of prohibited substance," Burnham said. "And I am also here to inform you that you are a fugitive from justice in the state of Louisiana. For the murder of Earl Havens."Russell laughed. "A forty-year-old cold case? Your only evidence is the lack of it.""Your fingerprint matched the one lifted from the barrel," t
POV: ELI"Spread the word, the king of the North has arrived!"Stan Davis raised his champagne flute from across the room and Eli tipped his head in return, scanning the suite as he entered.The room was exactly as arranged. Stan and Isabel at one of the cocktail tables. Pam working the bar with Robert Lee and Charlie Ho. Andre Leclerq by the window with an unlit cigar, who looked away the moment he and Eli made eye contact.And Russell Edgington at the oval table, wearing the expression of a man who had been waiting to say something unpleasant and was rationing it.Peter Threadgill beside him. Identical scowl.Eli ran a hand through his hair and took the seat to the dealer's right.The dealer, Claudette, was Pam's last-minute replacement after Palomino passed word that Russell had paid off the original croupier. She had a high ponytail and a smile wide enough to fill the room and she had been thoroughly briefed. She clapped her hands twice and showed her sleeves to the table, then cr
POV: ELI / BRIGAILThere was no magic trick. Only a perfectly choreographed illusion.Eli pushed his black statement glasses up his nose and scanned the sixth row from the ring. Pam and Roman sat on either side of his double, who had the good sense to keep one hand against the side of his face. From four rows up and slightly left, Mr. Tuxedo was convincing enough. He had cost Pam a considerable sum and was worth every dollar.He would have been more satisfied if Brigail hadn't given the man a second look when she walked in with Russell.Turn around. I'm right here.He forced his attention back to the ring. The Mexican fighter was the clear underdog, swaying on his feet, and even a casual observer could see where the fight was heading. Eli was not a casual observer. He was not an observer at all. He was bored before the first bell and had been watching the clock since the second round.9:05pm.If everything held, Clove was halfway to the eighth floor.He settled back in his seat and al
POV: ELIHe put his hands in his pockets and walked toward her with the unhurried steps of a man with nowhere else to be and nothing he wanted more than to stand exactly where he was standing.She was extraordinary.He had thought it in the lobby of the Obsidian Ace the first night he saw her in th
POV: BRIGAILBrigail was rolling chicken breast in breadcrumbs when she heard footsteps behind her.Three sets.She turned. Pam, Jimmy, and Marco stood at the entrance of their corner station wearing matching expressions of barely contained satisfaction.Brigail looked at Eli. Eli looked at Brigail
POV: BRIGAILBrigail wedged herself between Holly and Terry as Marco Alfonso took his place at the head of the dining room and cleared his throat."As most of you know," Marco began, hands clasped, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, "Stan Davis will be stepping down as CEO of the Queen Regent
POV: BRIGAILThe days moved fast once Brigail stopped watching the door.Marco's late-night sessions after service were worth the exhaustion. She had not expected to care about knife technique or mise en place sequencing, but there was something about the way Marco moved through a kitchen, delibera












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