Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
Spy Games
~A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance~
© 2018
By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford
Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!
© 2018 Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.
Kindle Edition
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ALSO BY CASSANDRA DEE
Standalones
Prison Fling
His Captive
Buck Me Cowboy
Beg Me: Sold To My Dad’s Boss
Daddy’s Pretty Baby
Loving the Babysitter
Reverse Harem
Seven Brothers of Sin
Six Ways to Sin
The Billionaires Club
Sold at the Auction
Virgin for Sale
Serving Him
Buy Me
Anonymous Encounters
MFMM Ménage Romance
All the Best Men
MMF Bisexual Romance
Double Dare
Double Exposure
The Falling Series
Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend
Falling for My Boyfriend’s Dad
Falling for My Son’s Best Friend
The Princes Series
Double Princes
Triple Princes
Box Sets
Taking the CEO Home
DEDICATION
To all the girls who adore men of mystery.
This one’s for you!
NOTE FROM CASSIE AND KATIE
Hi! Thanks so much for reading Spy Games: A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance. I hope you enjoy Holly’s brush with the dark side.
Love,
Cassie and Katie
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Spy Games: A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance
Was the beautiful brunette a spy planted to dig up my darkest secrets?
Most guys take it easy when they hit it big. Me? The opposite.
Because when it came to walking the talk, I bought an airline.
To assert my dominance, I wanted to show my competitors that fifty million is nothing to a rich a$$hole like me.
But Elite Air came with a stewardess.
Holly Nelson.
Shy and innocent.
Sweet as a plum, and perfect at her job. Even more, she’s turned my world upside down. The curvy brunette’s charming, magnetic, and absolutely irresistible with a smile that cracks my world wide open.
But is Holly a spy planted by my competitors to get my secrets?
I’m going to find the truth, and god help the female then.
Because if the woman’s doing a double cross, then $hit just got savage.
I don’t forgive.
Ruthlessness is my calling card, even when it comes to curvy, sassy females.
Holly’s going to cry and beg for a second chance.
But guess again, baby girl.
Because there’s no mercy when you’re playing spy games…
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Spy Games
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
My Mom’s Fiancé
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
Fan Extra 1
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTE
EN
Fan Extra 2
Diary Entries for My Mom’s Fiance
Temptation
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Anonymous Encounters
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
Falling for My Son’s Best Friend
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
A SNEAK PEEK
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
MORE BY CASSANDRA DEE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
Holly
“Holly, come on, it’ll be fun,” my friend Katrina wheedled. I looked at my mom who lay on the floor of our apartment, her prone form stretched on the shabby floor.
“Go, go!” Kathy spoke weakly, gesturing with her free hand. “Go!”
“No Ma, I can’t,” was my hushed whisper, turning away from the computer screen where my friend waited impatiently. “I don’t want to leave you here.”
But Kathy wouldn’t hear of it. Her gray head turned towards me again, awkward given the angle of her twisted spine.
“Sweetheart, I’m just doing my back exercises on the floor with this instructor on the screen,” she said, pointing to our TV where an aged woman moved slowly, stretching her arms high towards the ceiling. “It’s nothing crazy. Go and have a good time.”
I sighed because Kathy is all I have, and I’m all Kathy has. It’s always been my mom and me against the world since the very beginning. My dad has never been in the picture, and we used to live with my grandma in a cramped one bedroom. But fortunately or unfortunately, my mom has a bad back. It causes her excruciating pain, and she gets disability for it. That money is what keeps us alive, as well as the rent-controlled apartment we have in Queens.
So I’m grateful for the small things. Usually it takes forever to land a cheap place like this, but because of my mom’s illness, we were pushed to the front of the line. So while our neighbors complain about dingy floors and ghastly fluorescent lighting, I’ve always been grateful. Otherwise, we’d still be squeezed into a tiny one-bedroom with my grandma, instead of our relatively spacious one-bedroom here at the LeBar projects.
But Kathy worries about me because I feel obligated to stay at home to make sure she’s okay. Going out isn’t a priority for me, not when my mom takes dozens of medications a day, unable to get out of bed sometimes. And so I’d rather make sure she’s as comfortable as possible, rather than partying and gossiping like a normal teen girl.
But my mom wasn’t having it.
“Go!” was her entreaty with a half-hearted smile that turned into a wince. “I’ll be fine, it’s only a few hours.”
“Besides,” wheedled Katrina from the screen, “My new boyfriend is going to meet us. Nick Ryver, you’ll like him,” she chortled. “I wish you could meet him too, Mrs. Nelson!” she sang, waving to my mom from the screen.
And both Kathy and I laughed then because Kat can be ridiculous. My friend’s just like us. Katrina’s family doesn’t have much and we make do most days. But Kat’s latched onto an idea. She wants to date wealthy seventy year-olds because after they get married, the old guy will die, and leave her their fortune. It’s morbid in my opinion, but it’s what Kat wants, and she’s determined.
“Come on,” the blonde entreated again. “You’ll like Nick, I promise.”
My mom and I giggled again. This Nick person was probably eighty years old and using a walker, but hey, who am I to judge? Besides, getting out could be fun. I hadn’t been social in at least a month, and this could be a much-needed change.
So I nodded.
“Okay Kat, where should I meet you?”
“The Firehouse,” she proclaimed proudly. “Nick’s taking us there.”
I gasped, eyes going wide.
“But that’s real expensive,” was my hesitant reply. “Drinks there are fifteen bucks a pop. You know I can’t afford that.”
Katrina laughed again. “Seriously Holly, you think I haven’t thought of that? I can’t afford it either. Nick’s going to take care of it all, we won’t have to spend a cent,” she proclaimed proudly.
And sighing, I agreed. Again, Kat has a way of dating guys who are old as Methuselah and rich as Midas. A fifteen dollar drink likely wasn’t going to make a difference to someone with a bulging wallet. So hanging up, I wandered into my room, staring into the tiny closet.
“Wear something pretty!” called my mom from the living room, wheezing as she did a series of slow leg lifts. Stretching and keeping conditioned is supposed to help her back, so Kathy’s meticulous about getting through her hours of physical therapy each day.
“I will,” was my low murmur. “I will.”
And slowly, I pulled on my one acceptable outfit. It was a plain purple cocktail dress that hugged my curves, emphasizing my hourglass figure.
Stay, I commanded my big Double Ds. Don’t embarrass me. Don’t wiggle and jiggle like marshmallows, like you always do.
But my body will always be my body, and I was born a big girl. Some ladies are thin as children, and blossom when they hit puberty. Not me. I’ve always been chunky, and now at eighteen it’s gotten to titanic proportions. I have girls that sway and hips that knock like they’re doing a constant rhumba.
But it’s okay. I don’t get out much, so it’s not like there are many guys pounding down my door asking me on dates. In fact, the opposite. There are no men period, it’s just me and my mom Friday nights. Thus, Kathy’s entreaties for me to get out of the house to meet people and socialize before I become a potato sprouting hairs.
But now, standing in front of the Firehouse, intimidation made my knees weak. We live in a little corner of Queens, New York, so this wasn’t the big city. But partying isn’t my normal thing, and the blaze of flashing lights and line of people out front unsettled me. A man pushed by, making me grab my purse strap in fear. Had I just been robbed? But no, it’s just how people are in a club environment, rude and pushy as they barrel towards the front of the line.
Suddenly, Kat’s voice cut in.
“Hey Holly,” she sang, prancing up to where I stood behind the velvet rope. “Come on out from behind there, Nick’s a VIP and can get us in.”
Tentatively, my hand reached
for the velvet rope, but a bouncer beat me to it. Believe it or not, he wasn’t here to kick me out. He was here to help me skip the line.
“After you, ladies,” the bear-like man growled. “Courtesy of Mr. Ryver.”
My heart pumped. Who was Katrina’s new boyfriend? Clearly, he knew people, seeing the envious gazes of the club-goers around us.
But even the darkness inside the Firehouse couldn’t conceal the fact that Katrina’s new guy was seventy if a day. Doddering and bent over, he nursed a whiskey alone at a table.
“Hellooooo!” the man sang, swinging a frail arm around my friend and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Uck. His lips were cracked and dry, shriveled with age, whereas my friend was in the full bloom of youth, her cheek soft as a petal.
“Hi,” I murmured, pasting a smile on my face. “I’m Holly Nelson, Katrina’s friend.”
The old man nodded, blue eyes alight. Well, at least the guy was alive and kicking because there was a spark in there.
“Nick Ryver,” he chortled with a hint of a British accent. “Nice to meet one of my best girl’s best friends. Get it? Best and best.”
I smiled politely.
“Yes, Kat and I have known each other since we were six,” was my obliging reply. “Thank you for getting us into the Firehouse,” I said, nodding into the dark interior. “We would have been waiting outside forever if you hadn’t.”
“Oh that!” wheezed the elderly Mr. Ryver. “It’s nothing! I develop these places so putting a name on the VIP list is nothing.”
And at that, Kat plunked herself into her new boyfriend’s lap, which wasn’t a good idea if you ask me. The man was frail and small, likely with the osteoporosis that hits old people. My friend had probably just crushed him with her sassy weight.
But Kat is Kat and the woman threw her arms around Mr. Ryver enthusiastically.
“Nick is big in construction,” she purred, pressing her cheek to his wizened one. “He owns so many important and famous buildings in New York. This is just a tiny venture by comparison, isn’t that right?”
The white-haired man nodded feebly.
“That’s right, sweets. The Firehouse is a foray into Queens because you’re here. We want to do more in the borough, so long as that asshole Thorn Evans doesn’t get in the way.”