His Filthy Game Cassandra Dee, Kendall Blake ~ Page 1

Read Online Books/Novels:His Filthy GameAuthor/Writer of Book/Novel:Cassandra DeeKendall BlakeLanguage:EnglishISBN/ ASIN:B07DSQQHHGBook Information:

One month with the billionaire. His terms. His rules. No holds barred.

I was a clerk at the local grocery making minimum wage. My car wouldn"t start and my pantry was bare.
But then I met a Connor Gray. A powerful, commanding billionaire who made me an offer.
One month.
His terms.
His rules.
No holds barred.
I"d be rich beyond my wildest dreams afterwards.
But was there a dirty catch"

Dating in NYC is something I don"t have time for.
So instead, I went on-line. Who knows" Anything can happen if you let it.
But I didn"t expect to meet Kitty.
Curvy, vivacious, with not an obedient bone in her body.
Good thing I"m a patient man.
Because this little girl"s playing my game now and I never lose.

Hey Readers " You"re gonna love this tale of a dirty game gone wrong. But there"s a sweet HEA for our feisty heroine, we promise.Books by Author:Cassandra Dee BooksKendall Blake Books

Chapter One


The scent of artificial flowers that my manager wore as perfume surrounded me, overly sweet and sickening. I glanced at the clock, willing it to say eleven so my floral-scented nightmare could finally end. Miss Wells must have thought her smell lured the customers in. Really though, she was the reason why we didn"t sell much.

"Um, Miss Wells"" I asked hesitantly, turning to face her. "Do you know where the keys are"" But my manager wasn"t sitting next to me anymore. She was already by the door with her bag and coat ready.

The she-devil grinned at me. "They"re on my table. Lock up for me, will you, Kitty""

The door shut behind her before an answer even left my mouth. Not that it mattered. I never said no and she knew it. Sighing, I turned back to the clock and waited for the hour hand to hit eleven. As the manager, Miss Wells was supposed to guard the key and lock up the shop, but she never seemed to care and the job was always left to me.

I made one last pull at the lock to make sure that it was latched and then made my way to my car. The old Toyota Corolla that only cost me a few hundred bucks, but hey, it still ran. Most of the time, that is. I picked up this beater off an online ad, and the owner promised me it was a reliable ride, the kind that would take me to and from work everyday.

Except tonight. Instead of sputtering and roaring to life, the engine sat silent. I turned the key two more times before giving up and realizing my car had failed me. Again. Groaning and resting my head on the back of the seat, I looked out the window at Nashville"s night sky.

When was life ever going to go my way"

I climbed out of my car, resigned to the three-mile walk home. Calling for help didn"t matter when you had no friends.

Resting my head against the cool glass of the driver"s side window, I stared at my own reflection. A lonely nineteen-year-old stared back at me. A pathetic girl who worked as a grocery store cashier for Delaney"s Bag and Save, even though it was a small shop and most people went to the bigger grocery stores that were around.

Still, Delaney"s paid me something and that was better than nothing. Plus, the owner was nice. The only problem with work was my manager, but as long I didn"t cross her or get in her way, it was good. I just wished that the owner could get another branch and hire me as the manager of that one.

Because my only dream was to become a manager one day. My dreams are humble, aren"t they" Hardly the high-flying tech CEO or the YouTube beauty mogul that kids these days want to be. But when you grow up as an orphan and move from foster home to foster home, you end up wishing for something that"s within reach and actually possible. Otherwise, there"s just no hope in my bleak circumstances.

Because life has been tough over the years. I had a few foster care couples that took me in, but none that really stuck. After a pre-determined time, they"d send me back to Children"s Services, always with an apologetic look in their eyes.

"Sorry Kitty," the mom would murmur, unable to look directly at me. "It just didn"t work out."

The dad would place a hand on my shoulder and grip hard.

"Better luck at your next place," he"d growl. "You"ll find a place, kiddo."

And I"d stare at my feet, nodding silently with tears in my eyes. Because why didn"t anyone want me" But after a while, I realized that it wasn"t from being bad or anything. People were looking for someone different. Someone younger, cuter, more outgoing and talkative. I"ve never exuded cute, and in the foster system, being cute equals survival.

But that was over now. I "aged out" of the foster care system on my eighteenth birthday with a check for two hundred dollars and a list of youth homes. It was really scary, honestly. I was on the street with no idea how to proceed.

But somehow I"ve made it this far. With my job and my shabby apartment, things have worked out. There"s some stability in my life, even if it"s not luxurious.

But today, the Toyota just wouldn"t start. Banging the steering wheel, a scream of exasperation escaped my throat. Why today, of all days" The weather was terrible, slush on my boots. Why wouldn"t the Toyota behave"

But when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. So opening the door, I pulled on my jacket and looked down the road. Oh god. Walking three miles after a long day of work sounded awful, but there weren"t any other choices. Tears stung my eyes, but I squeezed them shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, willing myself not cry.


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