All Chapters of Deuces Wild: The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

POV: BRIGAILThe Ermenegildo Zegna boutique on the Boulevard smelled like cedar and money and the particular confidence of people who never checked price tags.Brigail had asked Pam to hold off the delivery. She wanted to pick up Eli's tuxedo herself. It was a small thing, domestic in a way that was completely unlike her and she was aware of that and had decided not to examine it too closely.The redhead at the front desk had a smile that could model toothpaste. "Mr. Michealson's suit will be ready in just a moment. My assistant is finishing the wrap.""No hurry," Brigail said. She meant it.Operation Raven was already in motion. That was what they were calling the Edgington takedown, and when she said they, she meant mostly Eli. Tonight was the first and probably only window they would have to meet Felipe De Castro, and they had to be in position before Victor Madden's plane touched down. She had time.She was scrolling through her phone when the shouting started from the back.Frenc

POV: BRIGAIL"Left over right, or right over left? Shoot!"She had been craning over Eli's bowtie for ten minutes and her neck was starting to protest. She had hopped up onto the bed for better leverage, which turned out to be an invitation she had not intended to extend.His fingers were already at her ankles, moving upward along her stockings with the patient confidence of a man who had nowhere to be."Stop." She pressed her knees together. "Pam said five-inch heels if I mess this up.""Shh." His fingers kept moving. "You focus on yours, I'll focus on mine."She almost lost the thread of the bowtie entirely when his hand reached her inner thigh. Then he stopped."You're wearing pantyhose," he said, in the tone of a man who had been genuinely wronged.She cupped his face and kissed his forehead. "You cuss too much.""Come with me tonight," he said. His voice had changed. The playful edge gone, something more honest underneath it."After the wedding," she said. "I need to warn Jerry b

POV: ELIThe Founder's Ball was exactly what it was every year.Beautiful people in expensive clothes performing the ritual of being seen by other beautiful people in expensive clothes. He had mastered it at seventeen. He found it no more interesting at thirty-four.He was at the bar. Scotch untouched. He had pushed it away twenty minutes ago, which was Brigail's fault entirely. Her nagging had gotten into his skull.He checked his watch. 1:10am. One more hour.He pulled out his phone. Dialed before he talked himself out of it.She picked up on the second ring."Miss me already," she said."I seem to have dialed the wrong number.""Such a liar.""Learned from the best." He paused. "Turn around."He lowered the phone.She was there.Hair slightly softer than when they'd parted, a few golden strands loose around her cheeks. Eyes glassy from the gin and tonic he could smell when she stepped close. Lips curved in the smirk she had stolen from him sometime in the last several weeks.He sto

POV: BRIGAILShe kept herself moving.That was the trick. You kept yourself moving and you didn't stop because stopping was when it caught up with you.She asked Kibwe to take her to Spring Valley instead of the North. She was not ready to see Eli yet. Not with her hands still unsteady.In the kitchen she found Marcia and asked for the oven. Marcia offered to help. Brigail turned her down three times with genuine warmth because she needed her hands in the flour and her brain on something that required attention.Gran's meatloaf. Garlic mashed potatoes. She had made both a hundred times. The motions were automatic enough to be calming, specific enough to be distracting.When the kitchen was clean she went upstairs and drew a bath and stayed in it until the water went cold.She was getting out when she heard the car horn at the gate.She knew the sound of the Land Rover.She dressed quickly. White button-down. Denim shorts. Wet hair in a loose knot. She made it downstairs before he reac

POV: ELIThe hangar was cold and empty except for Warlow's guards, Roman, the chauffeur, and the royal jet idling on the tarmac.Michael was flailing. His French profanities carried well in the enclosed space. Eli walked behind him, unhurried, and let him run through the inventory."You work for me!" Michael shouted at the guard holding him."They work for the prince," Eli said. "Not for someone who plays at being one."Michael stopped struggling. He looked at the jet. He looked at his guards. He looked at the Ghost.He had done the math. Eli could see him doing it.Seven men in the hangar. None of them his."Here is what happens," Eli said, stopping a few feet away and tucking his hands in his pockets. "You get on that plane. You go back to Cote d'Azur. You are arrested for treason for using sovereign immunity for personal gain. You are tried as a commoner because no monarch will speak for you. No title. No money. No name." He paused. "Or you run. Stay on American soil. I will have y