All Chapters of BILLIONAIRE’S PLAY THING: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Tyler’s POVI leaned against the kitchen counter, a casual smirk playing at my lips as I watched Dominic pace in the living room. I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a furnace. He didn’t know I was watching him, didn’t suspect that every little misstep I engineered was another brick in a wall I was slowly building between him and Ethan.The plan was simple. The execution would require patience, timing, and subtlety. No overt moves, no mistakes. Dominic thought he had the upper hand simply because he was cautious, because he was always one step ahead in his head. But he had never been in a game like this before not with me.I dropped my jacket carelessly over the back of a chair, letting it slouch in a way that looked entirely unintentional. Dominic’s eyes flicked to it immediately, his jaw tightening. “Tyler,” he said, the edge in his voice unmistakable.I feigned innocence, raising both hands slightly. “What? I just set my jacket down,” I said, voice light, casu

Dominic’s POVI’d been silent for hours, watching, waiting. Tyler’s every move had been calculated, predictable even, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating. I’d kept my patience for as long as I could too long, probabl but tonight, I wasn’t going to let it slide anymore.The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city lights spilling in through the blinds. Ethan was in the kitchen, fiddling with some paperwork, oblivious to the tension in the air. I had been watching Tyler from across the room, pretending to organize some boxes but really tracking every subtle gesture. He moved with that smug, slow ease that always irritated me, leaning just enough to suggest casualness, speaking just enough to seem innocent.Tyler’s hand brushed against Ethan’s wrist or maybe it was more than that. I froze mid-step, my heart hammering in my chest. My mind replayed it in slow motion: the way Tyler’s fingers lingered, the faint, too-quick glance toward me, the almost imperceptible smir

Tyler’s POVThe city clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and fresh coffee, a blend that made Tyler’s head swim less from nerves and more from opportunity. First days always carried a tension that felt deliciously like a stage before an audience. He had rehearsed his smile in the mirror that morning charming, slightly self-deprecating, approachable. He wanted to be seen as harmless, likable, maybe even endearing but underneath that perfectly practiced exterior, every thought had its usual sharp edge. Dominic and Ethan were at the forefront of his mind, as always.He stepped into the nurses’ station, clipboard tucked under one arm, and offered a broad smile to the small group gathered there. Some nodded politely others barely noticed. Tyler let his gaze linger on Claire. Bright eyes, tidy bun, precise movements, and a faint wrinkle of concern on her forehead that suggested competence. She was one of the few who didn’t merely shuffle through the motions. He liked that. She would be us

Tyler’s POVI got to the clinic before dawn, when the city was still wet and the streetlights bled halos into puddles. Early is an advantage. Early means you pick your seat, pick your angle, pick what you want to see. I chose a side door that would let me slip in unseen and a cart position near the supply room where nobody paid any attention to who moved boxes. People always underestimate a man with a polite smile doing other people’s work.“Need a hand?” I asked the receptionist as she unlocked the front doors, folding my voice into the practiced tone of someone who liked to be useful. She offered a grateful expression and a name. I learned the receptionist’s name and the rhythm of her day in a single exchange. That was the point: the façade is a tool. I wore it like a coat, comfortable enough to hide what was underneath.They put me to work in the supplies room. The sign on the door read RESTRICTED which meant nothing to me beyond the fact that access was regulated and that regula

Tyler’s POVI’d been laying the groundwork for this night since the first time Claire mentioned how overwhelming her new job felt. The key was never to push too hard, never to suggest something that sounded premeditated. It had to seem spontaneous, natural. So, as we wrapped up a particularly long day at the clinic, I leaned against her workstation with an easy smile and said,“You’ve been running yourself ragged this week. You deserve a drink or three. How about we grab something at that little bar down the street?”Claire glanced up from her computer, hesitated, then gave a soft laugh. “Honestly? I could use it. But just one or two. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”“Perfect,” I said, casual as breathing. “We’ll keep it low-key.”Inside, my pulse stayed steady. This wasn’t about fun. It was about positioning, control, and extracting exactly what I needed without her realizing it.The bar was dimly lit and warm, the kind of place where people loosened up just enough to say things t