His Ex-Wife Is A Billionaire (Evadne and Thaddeus) novel Chapter 487

In the wee hours of the morning, a sleek red sports car pulled off a stunning fishtail maneuver before coming to a halt in front of a nightclub.

Elsie gracefully unfolded her toned legs from the low car, stepping out into the night. She was dressed to kill in a form-fitting black mermaid gown that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her crystal-studded stilettos sparkled under the moonlight, their sharp heels like daggers poised above the hearts of men.

"Ms. Archer. He's still inside. I've had my eyes glued," one of her subordinates stepped out of the shadows.

With a gaze as cold as the moon, Elsie lifted her delicate left hand to skillfully twist her raven hair into an elegant updo, securing it casually with a silver hairpin adorned with a crimson ruby.

Her movements were fluid poetry, leaving her subordinate utterly entranced.

"Stay on the lookout and be ready for cleanup duty."

Inside the nightclub, shadows and light danced together, creating an atmosphere of mysterious allure.

Elsie clenched her jaw, weaving through the crowd lost in revelry, her eyes fixed on her target seated at the edge of the bar - Elvis.

With each step closer, her heartbeat intensified, the surrounding noise fading into oblivion as if she were stepping into a dream.

Elsie readjusted her sultry hair, preparing for the night's climax. Undoubtedly, she would use her favorite hairpin to strike decisively. Moments later, Elsie was behind Elvis, her soft hand nearly on his shoulder when suddenly, her wrist throbbed with pain, and the world spun!

"Ah!"

The next second, Elsie's back slammed against a table, the pain so intense she gasped for air.

His reflexes were not of this world - they belonged to a devil! Elvis's rough right hand imprisoned her delicate wrist, his left brutally squeezing her neck, his grip tightening relentlessly.

Over these years, as a top-tire secret agent, while executing the mission overseas, he occasionally would undergo assassination organized by his enemy. Years of having been in dire straits had honed his senses to the extreme; even the slightest rustle could not escape his vigilance!

Now, with Elsie pinned beneath him, the suffocating pressure turned her face crimson, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

"Is it you?"

Elvis loosened his grip, startled by the recognition.

Elsie gasped for breath, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. Onlookers whispered among themselves, mistaking the scene for a domestic dispute, too wary to intervene.

"Dude looks sharp, but man, is he trashy, domestic violence in public?!"

"Better mind our own business; they seem like they're into it. Let's just bail."

Elvis's face darkened at the murmurs.

"You hurt me," Elsie struggled to rise, her back pain rendering her unable to straighten up.

"My apologies, occupational hazard," Elvis's long arm hooked around her waist and hoisted her up in one swift motion.

Elsie instinctively wrapped her arms around his strong waist, her breath warm and enticing. However, Elvis simply glared coldly, "Ms. Archer, aside from my sister, there's no other woman who gets to hold me like that. You're quite bold, aren't you?"

"You're very protective of your sister. How envious to have such a handsome brother." Elsie's lips curved into a practiced, mesmerizing smile, "She must be very beautiful, right?"

His eyes lingered on her exquisite face, his heart quivering. The resemblance to his sister was uncanny. If she dressed in the same clothes, styled her hair the same way, even he might mistake her for his sibling, let alone Thaddeus!

A cold light flashed in Elvis's eyes, his lips curving into a smirk as he tilted her chin upward, "In terms of beauty, you rival my sister."

Elsie's heart fluttered at his smile, her voice trembling, "But there's always a hierarchy, levels of beauty."

Without hesitation, he replied, "Of course, my sister is more beautiful."

Was he just clueless or overly fond of his sister? But his straightforwardness somehow wouldn’t disgust her.

"What are you doing here?" Elvis narrowed his deep eyes, “You are not looking for me, aren’t you?”

Elsie's fingers played along his firm chest, her voice nonchalant, "Mister, you must believe that our previous encounters were because of fate."

Elvis raised an eyebrow, "Oh, how lucky I am."

"Thank you for helping me last time." Elsie's hand wound around his black tie, her body pressing against his, her eyes shimmering with longing, "I've been hoping to see you again, to repay you."

Elvis's gaze deepened, his penetrating eyes making her heart race, yet she managed to maintain her composure.

His eyes were like X-rays, lie detectors. But in that moment, he felt a hint of truth in her words.

"So, how do you plan to repay me, huh?" Elvis let out a mischievous grin, his lips inching closer.

Elsie's heartbeat thundered, her cheeks flushing with shy excitement, "Whatever you desire, I'm yours for the night."

The scene shifted abruptly -

Elsie stared in disbelief, never expecting that Elvis's idea of repayment was to play Jenga!

"One piece each, loser drinks three shots. Ms. Archer, do you dare to play?" Elvis rested his chin on his hand, carefully placing the last block on top. Meanwhile, the bartender had delivered three bottles of the finest whiskey to their table.

Elsie gaped at the man, the sudden game disrupting her meticulous plan.

"Oh, right. It's harmful for a lady to drink spirits, so let's say one shot for you, three for me," Elvis's eyes glinted like amber sunken deep into the sea, "Ms. Archer, shall we play?"

"I'm in," Elsie took a deep breath, steeling her nerves, "A promise made must be kept."

The game began.

Elvis had always been quick-witted, the most knowledgeable about entertainment among all the Ashbourne children, and Jenga was a favorite from his childhood, often played with his little sister Evadne.

During downtime at the foreign agency headquarters, he would sit in a corner, playing with these childhood toys to soothe his soul and send his thoughts to his sister.