The thought of my parents sharing a moment of happiness and pride in their daughter’s newfound love, a love I’ve already lost in the time between then and now, starts me crying again. Mom gives me a handkerchief, and I wipe my eyes and cheeks.
“You know, Sarah, you’re right. You were always right. Your dad never did anything wrong to me. The only reason I didn’t stay married to him was because, after twenty-eight years, you all grown and out on your own, I found myself working too hard, every single day, to think of a reason to. And I’d hate to see you screw up your life by tossing aside a guy you very obviously love because you’re working too hard to think of a reason not to.”
I look up at Mom, unsure what to say. I’ve made such a mess of all this, blamed Kyle for something he had nothing to do with, treated him so badly. But he’d said it, on the way to the hospital, on the phone with the doctor. He said he loved me. Was there any chance, any chance in the world after all I’ve done, that he still might?
“Hey, Sarah? Kathy?”
We both look up to the door. Mitch is standing there. “It’s time.”
“Okay, Mitch, thank you,” Mom says. She squeezes my arm. “Well, sweetie, I guess it’s time to do this.”
“You go ahead, Mom. I’ll be there in a minute. I, uh, I need to make a call.”
Mom smiles. “I’ll save you a seat.” She turns and walks back up into the warmth and light of the union hall.
Just as I pull out my phone, a message alert pings up on the screen. When I look at the notice, my eyes widen, and a sharp, stunned gasp escapes from my lips. Turns out I had forgotten I’d installed the OkEros app.
KC Cash: You still owe me a week. And if you don’t mind, I don’t want to wait another minute for that week to start.
I look up, and immediately burst into happy tears. There he is, climbing out of, to my surprise, a modest Chrysler sedan, which explains why I didn’t notice him pulling up to the curb. He’s still holding his phone, having literally just sent me that message. And, of course, he’s still wearing the sunglasses. Some things never change. And thank God for that.
In a flash, I’m in his embrace. He spins me around, our lips meeting as he twirls me through space. Our kiss doesn’t break even as he lowers me back onto my feet. When he finally does pull back, I quickly wipe tears from my face, and his.
“Oh, Kyle. I’ve been so stupid about all this. Can you ever forgive me?”
He takes off the shades, cups my chin in his hands. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I missed those eyes that shimmer with depth, warmth, and power.
“Sarah, one of the greatest things my dad ever taught me: Never judge a person by what they do at their lowest moment.” He grins. “Besides, that coffee table at the hospital was dirt-cheap. They must be renting that furniture to own.”
I laugh, giving Kyle a quick, sweet smooch. I could stay nestled here in his arms for the rest of my life. But, I gratefully realize, there will be plenty of time for that. “They’re waiting for us inside.”
“Oh, right. Say, that was your mom you just were talking to, right?”
“Yeah. She made it all the way from Belgium for this.”
“Belgium, huh? We should go there some time. It’s a beautiful place.” His smile takes on a slightly naughty quality. “Excellent chocolate.”
I meet his grin with one of my own. “My bags are already packed.” I snuggle into the crook of his forearm, and as we start walking toward the union hall together, I shoot a glance back at the Chrysler. “So what happened to the Bugatti, and the Spitfire?”
“Oh, I got rid of them. I don’t really need flashy rides like those. Who do I need to impress, right?”
“Right,” I agree, then pause. I look up at him again. “Just one thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
I run a finger playfully over his lips and down his chest.
“Whatever you do…please don’t get rid of that boat.”
THE END
Loving the Spy
A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance
© 2018
By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford
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© 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 Loving the Spy: A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance. I hope you enjoy Holly’s brush with the dark side.
Love,
Cassie and Katie
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Loving the Spy: 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
Loving the Spy
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
&nbs
p; 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 FOURTEEN
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 SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
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 m
om 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.