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  Playing The Game

  The Billionaire’s Whim, Book 2

  Liliana Rhodes

  Playing The Game, The Billionaire’s Whim book 2

  Copyright © 2020 by Liliana Rhodes

  Cover Design by CT Cover Creations

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Contents

  About Playing The Game

  1. Cassie

  2. Gabriel

  3. Cassie

  4. Cassie

  5. Gabriel

  6. Cassie

  7. Cassie

  8. Gabriel

  9. Cassie

  10. Cassie

  11. Cassie

  12. Cassie

  13. Cassie

  14. Gabriel

  15. Cassie

  16. Gabriel

  17. Cassie

  Epilogue

  Excerpt—Tailored for Love

  About Tailored for Love

  1. Deborah

  2. Deborah

  3. Deborah

  Also by Liliana Rhodes

  About the Author

  Sign Up For FREE Books

  About Playing The Game

  I wanted to be a gentleman, but I couldn’t control myself when she was near

  Unemployed and broke, Cassie Monroe is hoping for a better life in Canyon Cove. When she’s offered her dream job, she accepts, but things get complicated after spying on her sexy new boss in the shower.

  Former MMA fighter Gabriel Kohl is one of Canyon Cove’s most private billionaires and one of its most notorious playboys. When he spots the curvy physical therapist in his gym, there’s no stopping him from getting what he wants.

  Unable to forget his kiss, Cassie follows her heart. But Gabriel’s late night visits and quick exits leave her suspicious. Is he just playing games or is Gabriel ready to share his secrets and his life with her?

  This novel was originally published as Playing Games, it is now book 2 in The Billionaire’s Whim series.

  Book 1: My Boss’s Whim

  Book 2: Playing the Game

  Book 3: Tailored for Love

  Book 4: Won’t Fall Again

  Book 5: Love to Hate You

  Book 6: Better as Friends

  Chapter One

  Cassie

  “Breathe, Cassie, breathe,” I told myself.

  Wearing a pair of black trousers and a crisp white button-down shirt made of cotton, I hoped it was the perfect mix of educated, confident, and experienced. Unfortunately, I only had the education part and was losing my confidence as my nerves took over. I hated job interviews.

  I grabbed my cell phone, my wallet, and a note with an address and the name of the man I was meeting on it. Holding everything to my chest, I squeezed between my daybed and the dresser to get to the bedroom door, careful to not bump my hip in the process. It already had a mean bruise on there. I didn’t want it getting worse.

  The room was barely a bedroom. Originally it was a small loft at the top of the stairs, but someone along the way had added a vinyl brown accordion door and called it a bedroom.

  As I pulled the door closed, everything I was holding dropped to the floor. I jiggled the door to get the magnetic lock to meet and then knelt down to grab my resume, my cell phone, and the note as I pushed my shoulder-length dark brown hair behind my ear.

  I folded the note and slipped it into the small pocket in the front of my pants. I had an interview that afternoon with Mack Draven, my roommate’s uncle. As I picked up the rest of my things from the floor, my phone lit up and I groaned, seeing the word ‘Mom’ flash across the screen. I answered the phone as I rushed down the stairs.

  “I can’t talk right now, Mom. I have to catch the bus.”

  “What do you mean the bus? Is your car in the shop?”

  “I told you, I had to sell my car to pay for rent. I have to go, Mom, I have an interview to get to.”

  “You never have time for me anymore. I knew this would happen as soon as you moved out, you’ve forgotten about your mother.”

  “I haven’t forgotten about you. We talk every day,” I said, sighing as I locked the door behind me. “You know why I moved here, Mom. I had nothing at home. I came to Canyon Cove to make a life and to finally get the job that I spent seven years in school for.”

  “Get a job? You had a job here. It wasn’t good enough for your fancy doctor degree, so you left.”

  “How wasn’t it good enough for me? I was there for two years even though it was the furthest thing from physical therapy. And I didn’t leave that job, I was fired along with all the other admins when the company filed for bankruptcy.”

  “Still, you didn’t have to go so far away. And now you’re living with that stranger.”

  “I did what I had to do,” I said, looking at my watch as I walked faster. “Crosswicks is a tiny farming town, Mom. There aren’t many jobs there and I hated being an admin,” I said, feeling frustrated. “You know all of this, why am I telling you again? I came to Canyon Cove for the opportunities. It’s a big city, there has to be something better here.”

  “But you don’t even know that girl. Couldn’t you just get your own place?”

  “You know I can’t afford my own place. Not without a job and especially not in Canyon Cove. Plus Becca’s nice, we’re both twenty-seven, and we have a lot in common. We’ve become friends the past two months I’ve been here. She’s the reason I even have this interview in the first place. I’m telling you, things are finally going to go my way.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of money in Canyon Cove. You know they say you can’t turn around in Canyon Cove without bumping into a billionaire. Maybe you’ll find one of those wealthy men out there and then you won’t have to worry about working. That’s what your cousin Ashley did.”

  “Ashley? She’s in Canyon Cove?” I asked.

  “Yes, I didn’t tell you? I spoke to your uncle the other day and got the whole story. She’s married and has a baby now. I bet you could learn a thing or two from that one.”

  “I should call her. I haven’t spoken to her since we were kids.”

  “You two were quite a pair back then, peas in a pod. Shame she had to move away though. She was the closest thing to a sister you ever had.”

  “You’re right. I feel bad we lost touch.”

  “Well, it’s never too late, Cassie. Especially not for people you care about,” she said. “I’ll email her number to you. Plus maybe she’ll give you some pointers so you won’t have to worry so much about working.”

  Sighing, I shook my head. My mother had a gift for controlling the conversation and steering it wherever she wanted. I loved her, but this was one of those times where she made me want to strangle her.

  “I didn’t spend seven years getting my Doctorate in Physical Therapy for shits and giggles. I want to work. And please don’t start about my dating life again. You know I have my priorities,” I said as the bus approached. “Dammit! I gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I clicked the phone off and ran as quickly as I could in my black heels to the bus stop. As the bus pulled up, I waved my hand in the air, hoping the bus driver would see me. Just as I reached the bus stop, the doors closed and the bus began to pull away. I smacked the long windows of the door to get the driver’s attention. The bus
stopped and opened its doors.

  The driver was a stocky old man with white curly hair peeking out from underneath his blue cap. With a slight frown, he squinted at me.

  “I didn’t see you there,” the bus driver said. “You should have yelled.”

  “I don’t yell,” I said as I climbed aboard the bus.

  I paid for my ticket and took the nearest empty seat next to a window. Using the reflection in the glass, I smoothed my hair, noticing it was already beginning to frizz.

  The bus ride would take about half an hour. After the talk with my mom and the run for the bus, I was glad to have that time. Sighing, I leaned back against the chair, glanced at my watch, and looked at the old brick buildings as we drove past.

  I lived in an area of Canyon Cove most people didn’t talk about. They rarely even called it Canyon Cove, they called it the South End. The buildings were tired and old, and the sidewalks had buckled and cracked from the roots of trees that had been dug up decades ago. There were small shops lining the streets, all mom-and-pop businesses that were struggling to stay open. It was the kind of place that people thought of when they visited small, quaint towns, except time hadn’t been kind to this neighborhood.

  I found a room for rent in an ad online. Becca needed help paying the rent and I needed a place to live, so it was a perfect match. Then one day while I was scouring job ads, she told me how her uncle trained fighters, and it seemed like fate had brought us together.

  Unsure how close we were to my stop, I checked my watch. Dammit! It stopped again. If I got the job, a new watch would be my first splurge.

  I glanced down at myself and hoped I was dressed right for the interview. I didn’t know what to expect, especially for an interview with a trainer in the biggest mixed martial arts organization in the country.

  The Mixed Martial Arts Championship, or as most people called it, the MMAC, was the first and largest MMA organization in the United States. They started years ago when people thought MMA was nothing more than street fighting, but the MMAC brought it into the public consciousness and made MMA a sport just as popular as football or basketball.

  As the blocks went by in the window, the buildings began to change. The old brick townhouses and storefronts became tall apartment buildings and skyscrapers. We were close to the center of the city, which meant my stop was coming soon. I took a couple of deep breaths and looked down at my resume. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that what I told my mother was the truth, that things really were starting to go my way.

  * * *

  "Okay, Cassie," I whispered to myself. "You’re going to get this job. You have to get this job."

  I smoothed down my shirt, trying to get it to lay flat, but the damn thing kept gaping right where my breasts were. Of course it wasn’t doing that at home, but it was just my luck that it would happen now that I couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t the type of first impression I wanted the gym to have of me.

  Looking at the wide windows facing the street, I tried to peek inside the gym and get an idea of what to expect, but I couldn’t see anything. The windows were so steamy all I could make out were dark-colored floor mats and padded walls.

  I pulled out the small piece of paper from my pants pocket and unfolded it to read the name of the trainer I was scheduled to meet—Mack Draven. I forgot things whenever I was nervous so I repeated his name over and over in my head. This was the closest I had come to getting the job I wanted after spending seven years in school.

  I finally had my chance to stop answering phones for minimum wage. I had a lot riding on this one interview, and just that simple thought made my heart skip a few beats.

  "You can do this, Cassie," I said to myself. "Mack’s going to love you."

  Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door and stepped inside the gym. The scent of sweat and heaviness of the humid air smacked me as I entered. To the right were a row of stationary bikes and behind them were treadmills.

  A couple of men in zipped-up nylon sauna suits looked up at me from their bikes. They looked weary and worn from cutting weight. Smiling at them, I walked further into the gym, hoping I could find someone to tell Mack Draven I was there for my interview.

  Further into the gym, the walls had a dark blue padding that matched the floor. In one section, several muscular men were practicing their wrestling. In another area, a trainer was working on kickboxing moves with another fighter. Every man there was fit, muscular, and if the gym wasn’t already hot enough, these men would have made me sweat just from looking at them.

  Next to a boxing ring, a small man in trousers and a black cardigan with slicked back silver hair cursed at the fighters in the ring. I had a hunch that was Mack.

  Not wanting to intrude mid-round, I watched the fighters weave and dance. I knew just enough about MMA to be dangerous. And from years of bonding with my dad over boxing matches on TV, I grew to appreciate the sweet science.

  As the bell rang, the fighters went to their corners. Mack’s fighter had a shaved head and was tall and lanky. Frustration filled his eyes as he slumped on his stool in the corner. Mack grimaced at him as he held a bottle of water for him to sip from. When the fighter spat the water out, it splattered and darkened his red trunks.

  I didn’t know how long their practice was going to go, but I wanted Mack to know I was there. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was late for our interview, especially not when I got there early. I stepped closer to the ring and tried to get Mack’s attention, but his eyes were glued to his fighter. Just before the bell rang again, he took the stool and stepped out of the ring.

  "Excuse me," I said. "I’m here to meet Mack Draven. I have an interview."

  He glanced briefly in my direction and snorted. "You can wait. I’m busy." Slamming his hand down on the ring floor, he barked at his fighter. “Ryan! What did I teach you? The right! The damn right! You’ve got no power! Step into it!"

  He obviously doesn’t want me here, I thought.

  I folded my arms over my chest and thought about leaving. I glanced at the door then back at the ring. There was no way I was going to back away from the chance to finally get a job doing something I wanted to do. I clenched my jaw as I pushed my hair back over my ear and watched Mack’s fighter.

  Over and over Ryan threw the right as Mack instructed, but it didn’t cause any damage at all. I studied his body, watching his muscles ripple and flex in his arm, when I remembered something my father told me a long time ago during a fight.

  "Mack, he’s not throwing the right from his body," I said as I leaned towards him. "That’s why he’s got no power."

  His eyes flicked at me as he sneered. "What do you know?"

  My first instinct was to shut up and not say a word, but the thought of working behind a desk in another office made me want to rip my hair out. I quickly changed my mind.

  "I’ve studied the body, specifically mobility," I said, standing straight and hoping to sound confident. "That’s why I’m here, remember?"

  He snorted at me and turned back to his fighter as the bell rang. Mack climbed back into the ring as Ryan came into the corner and refused to sit.

  "No, Mack," Ryan said, shaking his head. "I’m listening to you, I’m throwing the right but nothing’s happening. I’m connecting, but I got nothing."

  Mack’s watery brown eyes flicked over to me, then back to his fighter. His head nodded slowly.

  "Sit, you need your energy," Mack said, his voice gruff. "Tell me something. When you throw that punch, where are you feeling it? Is it here?" He slapped Ryan’s chest. "Because if you tell me it’s coming from anywhere else, we have a problem. If you can’t get something like this down, you can forget about any kind of fight career. Use your body, not just your arm."

  He shoved the mouthpiece back into Ryan’s mouth as the bell rang and Ryan stood. Mack stood next to me and folded his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off his fighter.

  "You don’t learn shit like how to throw a
punch in school," he grumbled. "You a fan?"

  "I grew up watching boxing with my dad. I don’t know a lot about MMA though."

  “Boxing’s just part of it. You can learn what you need to. Becca told me you need a job, and I need some help. I have fighters who get hurt and I need help getting them back into the cage. Can you do that?"

  "Definitely," I said, feeling excited.

  "Okay then, if Ryan knocks this guy down with his right, you’ve got the job."

  I nodded, unable to take my own eyes off of the fighters in the ring. They were just sparring, but I was still hoping for a knockout. With my arms still crossed, I crossed my fingers as I anxiously watched the fighters.

  "Throw the right, kid!" Mack yelled.

  Ryan threw the punch and I saw again that he was just using his arm muscles. By now he had to be tired and his muscles fatigued, but I knew he could do it, he just needed the right instruction.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another fighter step closer to the ring. His body was covered with a sheen of sweat that outlined every contour of his muscles. His dark hair fell onto his forehead and he brushed it back with his hand.

  He wasn’t as built as some of the other fighters, but with his square jaw and full lips, he was much more handsome than most of them. I was having a hard time focusing on the fighter in the ring as my eyes kept darting over to the fighter outside of the ring instead. He had such a confident air to him that it made it hard for me to tear my eyes away from him.