PRAISE FOR RACHEL VAN DYKEN
“The Consequence of Loving Colton is a must-read friends-to-lovers story that’s as passionate and sexy as it is hilarious!”
—Melissa Foster, New York Times bestselling author
“Just when you think Van Dyken can’t possibly get any better, she goes and delivers The Consequence of Loving Colton. Full of longing and breathless moments, this is what romance is about.”
—Lauren Layne, USA Today bestselling author
“The tension between Milo and Colton made this story impossible to put down. Quick, sexy, witty—easily one of my favorite books from Rachel Van Dyken.”
—R. S. Grey, USA Today bestselling author
“Hot, funny . . . will leave you wishing you could get marked by one of the immortals!”
—Molly McAdams, New York Times bestselling author, on The Dark Ones
“Laugh-out-loud fun! Rachel Van Dyken is on my auto-buy list.”
—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author, on The Wager
“The Dare is a laugh-out-loud read that I could not put down. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
—Cathryn Fox, New York Times bestselling author
ALSO BY #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR RACHEL VAN DYKEN
Liars, Inc.
Dirty Exes
The Players Game Series
Fraternize
Infraction
The Consequence Series
The Consequence of Loving Colton
The Consequence of Revenge
The Consequence of Seduction
The Consequence of Rejection
The Wingmen Inc. Series
The Matchmaker’s Playbook
The Matchmaker’s Replacement
Curious Liaisons Series
Cheater
Cheater’s Regret
The Bet Series
The Bet
The Wager
The Dare
The Ruin Series
Ruin
Toxic
Fearless
Shame
The Eagle Elite Series
Elite
Elect
Enamor
Entice
Elicit
Bang Bang
Enforce
Ember
Elude
Empire
Enrage
Eulogy
Envy
The Seaside Series
Tear
Pull
Shatter
Forever
Fall
Eternal
Strung
Capture
The Renwick House Series
The Ugly Duckling Debutante
The Seduction of Sebastian St. James
An Unlikely Alliance
The Redemption of Lord Rawlings
The Devil Duke Takes a Bride
The London Fairy Tales Series
Upon a Midnight Dream
Whispered Music
The Wolf’s Pursuit
When Ash Falls
Savage Winter
Feral Spring
The Wallflower Series (with Leah Sanders)
Waltzing with the Wallflower
Beguiling Bridget
Taming Wilde
The Dark Ones Saga
The Dark Ones
Untouchable Darkness
Dark Surrender
Darkest Temptation
Stand-Alones
Hurt: A Collection (with Kristin Vayden and Elyse Faber)
Rip
Compromising Kessen
Every Girl Does It
The Parting Gift (with Leah Sanders)
Divine Uprising
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2018 by Rachel Van Dyken
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Skyscape, New York
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503904514
ISBN-10: 1503904512
Cover design by Letitia Hasser
To Grandma Nadine, for once again inspiring another fun character that left me smiling long after I typed The End.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One ISLA
Chapter Two JESSIE
Chapter Three ISLA
Chapter Four JESSIE
Chapter Five ISLA
Chapter Six ISLA
Chapter Seven JESSIE
Chapter Eight ISLA
Chapter Nine ISLA
Chapter Ten JESSIE
Chapter Eleven ISLA
Chapter Twelve ISLA
Chapter Thirteen JESSIE
Chapter Fourteen ISLA
Chapter Fifteen JESSIE
Chapter Sixteen ISLA
Chapter Seventeen JESSIE
Chapter Eighteen ISLA
Chapter Nineteen JESSIE
Chapter Twenty ISLA
Chapter Twenty-One JESSIE
Chapter Twenty-Two ISLA
Chapter Twenty-Three JESSIE
Chapter Twenty-Four ISLA
Chapter Twenty-Five JESSIE
Chapter Twenty-Six ISLA
Chapter Twenty-Seven JESSIE
Chapter Twenty-Eight ISLA
Chapter Twenty-Nine JESSIE
Chapter Thirty ISLA
Chapter Thirty-One JESSIE
Chapter Thirty-Two ISLA
Chapter Thirty-Three JESSIE
Chapter Thirty-Four ISLA
Chapter Thirty-Five JESSIE
Chapter Thirty-Six ISLA
Chapter Thirty-Seven JESSIE
Chapter Thirty-Eight ISLA
Chapter Thirty-Nine JESSIE
Chapter Forty ISLA
Chapter Forty-One JESSIE
Chapter Forty-Two ISLA
Chapter Forty-Three JESSIE
Chapter Forty-Four ISLA
Chapter Forty-Five JESSIE
Chapter Forty-Six ISLA
Chapter Forty-Seven JESSIE
Chapter Forty-Eight ISLA
Chapter Forty-Nine JESSIE
Chapter Fifty ISLA
Chapter Fifty-One JESSIE
Chapter Fifty-Two ISLA
Chapter Fifty-Three JESSIE
Chapter Fifty-Four ISLA
Chapter Fifty-Five JESSIE
Chapter Fifty-Six ISLA
Chapter Fifty-Seven JESSIE
Chapter Fifty-Eight ISLA
Chapter Fifty-Nine JESSIE
Chapter Sixty ISLA
Chapter Sixty-One JESSIE
Chapter Sixty-Two ISLA
Chapter Sixty-Three JESSIE
Chapter Sixty-Four ISLA
Chapter Sixty-Five JESSIE
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
Los Angeles
2015 Emmys
My heart was in my throat as I weaved past hotel guests and down the hall. My entire world felt like it had just fallen sideways.
It was going to be fine.
I just needed proof.
I needed to know whether I was right—or crazy.
I prayed for crazy as I pulled my key card from my purse with shaking hands. Drunk couples walked by me. It was supposed to be a party, I was supposed
to be having fun, enjoying myself.
Three a.m. and people were still drinking and networking, and I was . . . panicking, overanalyzing, controlling, as per usual . . . everyone but my fiancé.
Up-and-coming Hollywood director Wayne Alvillar, even his name sounded like something you’d see in bold script flashing across the big screen in giant black letters.
I calmed my breathing, pushed my shoulders back, and shoved open the door.
The lights were on. That should have been my first clue. If he was sleeping, they’d be off, right?
I quietly stepped into the Presidential Suite and surveyed the pristine marble floor, the way the lights bounced off the white rock. The fireplace was on and the sleek flat-screen TV was blaring a Friends rerun. I made my way down the hall, past the fully stocked wet bar and into the main bedroom. The shades were pulled, creating a dark glow across the king-size bed. Wayne was sitting there watching TV as if he really had decided to escape the madness of the party like I’d been told.
Then again, I’d also been told he left on the arm of a Hollywood actress.
I was clearly going crazy.
“Hey, baby.” He flashed me that million-dollar capped smile and patted the side of the bed. “You wanna watch a movie? I thought I was tired then saw the news. My speech was so good.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was so damn nervous.”
“It was . . . perfect,” I said, kicking off my heels and joining him on the bed.
He turned and nuzzled my neck with a kiss.
Yup, I really was losing my mind.
He wasn’t cheating on me with an actress.
He loved me.
His hand moved to my breast as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck.
I sighed into him and fell asleep.
Two hours.
I was in his arms for two hours.
Two peaceful hours of knowing that we really did belong together, that my perfect life really was as amazing as it looked on TV.
I had it all.
With a sleepy grin, I got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom, and nearly tripped over the rug. I straightened it then saw Wayne’s crisp white shirt bundled in the corner under a towel.
I rolled my eyes, the guy was sentimental, so he’d want the shirt he’d won an Emmy in. I grabbed it and froze.
Perfume.
Lipstick smudges.
More perfume.
Blonde hair wrapped around a few buttons. Blonde hair I recognized because it was so glaringly different from my own dark hair. My hands shook.
I dropped the shirt like it was diseased as rage and pain filled my body so quickly that I had to hang on to the door to keep from passing out. I sucked in a harsh breath, and then another.
We were engaged.
I had a plan.
I was looking at houses.
I’d ordered invitations for the wedding.
I tried to get my breathing under control but it was no use, the rage won out over all the hurt, over the sound of my heart breaking. I charged into the room and slammed a pillow over his head until he jolted awake, then punched him in the face.
And when he recovered.
I did it again.
I wish I could say that I walked out after that, but I took him back.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until I found them together and almost smashed a bottle of wine over his head after he tried to stupidly explain what went wrong and where I could do better.
Yes.
Better.
And that’s where my story starts.
In a wine shop yelling at the man I thought was going to be my husband, falling apart in public only to lock eyes across the room with someone who looked like she’d had an even worse day than me.
I thought my life was over that day in that wine shop.
And then I met my soon-to-be-best-friend Blaire and realized . . .
It had only just begun.
Chapter One
ISLA
There was a very fine line between love and hate.
Or in my case, a very thin fence where hate decides to set up across the street and stare at you through binoculars even though you’ve repeatedly threatened to get a restraining order.
I glared. Jessie freaking Beckett.
Ex-target of Dirty Exes, the PI company my best friend and I built from the ground up.
Ex-quarterback.
Ex-pain in my ass.
I heaved out a breath, that’s a lot of exes. A hell of a lot of exes. He gave me a small wave.
I flipped him off.
“He still there?” Blaire Hunter, my best friend and business partner, asked, turning the page of Cosmo while reaching for another piece of licorice.
“Yup.” The p popped on the word, my chest ached with misplaced anger—it wasn’t him I was angry at, it was the situation, the entire situation. I slammed the binoculars down, causing our receptionist, Abby, to jump in her seat.
Blaire held out the bucket of licorice. “Maybe it will help?”
“He’s trying to ruin my company, how is sugar going to help?” I paced in front of my desk and tried to think of all the ways it went wrong.
Maybe it was the fact that for the first time since building the PI company, we were wrong about a target.
His wife was our client and had hired us to catch him in the act, but she had been the real cheater in the marriage, the user, the manipulator—but all the signs at the time had pointed to him. Every damn time.
I stretched my arms above my head and then pulled my tuxedo jacket tight over my plunging white blouse. I didn’t do well with chaos.
I was a planner.
I had one Erin Condren planner for work, and another for home and recreational activities like my biweekly running and yoga sessions.
I even mapped out my meals on the front of my fridge in different-colored chalk for each day of the week. I’d never faltered in my routine, I never forgot to highlight, to color code. It was my life.
Until Jessie.
He was the wrench you throw in the perfectly good engine, causing it to sputter to its death.
I picked up the binoculars again, despite Blaire’s heavy sigh. “He’s just . . . staring right back at us. Leaning against his stupid Tesla like he owns the world. Why is he even driving a Tesla?”
“Why are we mad about his car again?” Blaire asked in a bored voice.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t you have a date with your perfect man-bun-wearing millionaire hotel-empire-owner slash bartender?”
“I love that you actually included the slash.” Blaire laughed. “And yes, yes I do.” She walked over to me and jerked the binoculars from my death grip. “Give it a rest, he’s just trying to get into your head. He’s still pissed about everything that was leaked to the press.”
“That wasn’t our fault and you know it.” I put my hands on my hips. “That was his blood-sucking wife trying to make us and him look bad.”
I’m a professional.
I’m in control.
Breathe in and out.
Everything is fine.
I’m co-partner of one of the premier PI companies in Hollywood.
I’m the Beyoncé of catching cheaters with their pants down.
Everything.
Is.
Fine.
“Right.” Blaire nodded slowly. “But in the end it just made him look stupid in front of the entire world—in front of a world that he’s trying to make a better place through all of his charity endeavors, which means, even though he’s not a terrible person, everyone now thinks he is.”
A headache pulsed behind my temples, I rubbed my head and tried to think of a solution. It’s what I did. I fixed things. I fixed broken marriages, relationships, and if a client was too far gone and in a free fall, I handed them a safety net and made it better.
Yet every time I thought of Jessie Beckett I either wanted to inflict violence on his person, or
just . . . huh, I guess all I really wanted was to fight him.
I was tall.
He was muscular.
I would lose.
He would laugh.
Plus it would mean touching him.
I shivered.
“Cold?” Blaire grinned.
“You’re still here?” I said, confused.
She shoved me toward the door. “Go talk to him, throw up the white flag, and move on. Thanks to the news, we didn’t get the short end of the stick, and have a client load that’s going to force us to take on another employee.”
I sagged a bit. “Right, you’re right. Okay, I’ll just tell him it’s over. How hard can it be? He has to be bored out of his mind anyway. He’s been there all day.”
Blaire smiled and then gave me an encouraging nod before walking to her car. I gulped at Jessie and stared him down, all six foot four of him.
There were so many things wrong with him as a human that I was offended just thinking about them.
For one, his eyes were too knowing, like he’d already done a search on every single part of your body that responded to male touch and memorized it just in case he got the chance to corner you.
His light eyes against tan skin, dark hair that was a bit longer in the back, curling at the ends and making a girl think about giving them a tug.
And don’t even get me started on his muscular build.
It said one thing, in bold colors above his head, that he put physical perfection above all else and wanted everyone else to not only know it, but comment about it, appreciate it—he basically had a big giant freaking “You’re Welcome” sign hovering over him. And it irritated me.
It irritated me that when I’d tried to get close to him during our investigation, he didn’t play into my hands as easily as I was used to with most of our targets.
And to be honest, it stung a bit that when I dumbly threw myself in his face in order to distract him from Blaire—he looked at me like I was a sad excuse for bait. I’d never had a guy react to me in that way, typically it was easy to distract them, tempt them to default to their cheating tendencies, catch them on camera, and be done. But Jessie . . . Jessie hadn’t even blinked in interest—if anything, I annoyed him. Which in turn annoyed me, made me try harder to push his buttons, until he relented and we became friends.
He gave me another small wave.
I steeled my gaze and made the slow, painful walk across the street.
From friends.
To enemies.
In one final swipe.
Bastard.
Chapter Two
JESSIE