Girl in Luv

  Copyright Girl in Luv © 2019 by Jay Crownover & Rebecca Yarros

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  A letter of copyright has been applied for through the Library of Congress.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address Jay Crownover LLC, 1670 E. Cheyenne Mnt. Blvd. Box# 152, Colorado Springs, Colorado 80906.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the authors’ imaginations. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover design by: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editing and Formatting by: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

  Proofreading & Copy Editing by: Jenn Wood

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Note from the Authors

  Acknowledgements

  About the Authors

  They’re from very different worlds…but their desire to be loved for who they really are is universal.

  Langley Vaughn is in desperate need of a date.

  But not just any date.

  She’s looking for a date to the wedding from hell. It isn’t every day you’re forced to be in the bridal party while your first love marries your archnemesis…otherwise known as the world’s worst stepsister. The entire situation is a nightmare, and Langley is sick and tired of taking orders and forcing a fake smile. She’s done being the bad guy when she was the one who was wronged.

  She needs to find a date who’s not afraid of her family’s money…someone willing to shake things up. She needs someone outside of her normal social circle, someone ready to go to war with the well-to-do. She needs someone who won’t back down. Someone willing to play the complicated game of tug-of-war she’s been engaged in with her family for years.

  Never in a million years did she think she was going to stumble across her very own heroic heartthrob when she set her crazy plan in motion.

  Not only does Iker show up for her time and time again, he also forces her to finally fight for herself.

  He says he’s only there for the money…but his actions speak so much louder than his words.

  Iker Alvarez would do anything and everything to get his hands on some quick cash.

  Not just any cash, but enough to make sure his younger brother gets into the college of his dreams.

  Thank goodness for a desperate, pretty little rich girl with too much money and her heart set on an outrageous scheme. Being in the right place at the right time might just be the answer to both of their prayers—and this smart soldier has never let a golden opportunity slide by.

  Iker doesn’t mind coming to Langley’s rescue and being her plus-one…as long as the price is right.

  Only, he didn’t plan on liking the blonde socialite as much as he does. He is totally unprepared for the pull he feels toward her, coupled with his growing desire to protect her from the vultures and villains living under the same roof.

  He wants to be the guy who keeps her safe and gives her the courage she obviously needs to fight back… But someone else, someone far more powerful and influential than Langley’s wealthy family, has dibs on Iker’s time and on his future. He knows he isn’t the guy Langley can count on in the long run, but damn, if he doesn’t want to do everything in his power to be that man.

  Langley

  Red dress. Check.

  Lip gloss. Check.

  Respectable, sexy-but-not-quite-stripper heels. Check.

  Cash? You betcha. I was pretty sure this wasn’t the kind of bar where I would trust handing my credit card over to anyone to start a tab.

  I was on a mission...as soon as I got out of this house.

  “You’re certain you can get them?” Virginia asked, clicking her manicured nails on the mahogany table. “Langley!” she hissed as I passed the archway that led to the dining room.

  Damn. I’d almost made it out. For a split second, I debated ignoring my stepmother. Freedom was only twenty feet away. But I’d promised Dad I’d be the dutiful daughter this week, if only to make his life a little easier, so I looked longingly at the front door for another second, then turned into the dining room, clutching my keys so hard they dug into my palm.

  “Don’t leave yet. We need to talk to you,” she ordered, then promptly went back to her phone call. “Right, I understand it’s a last-minute change but we’re paying you a lot of money to make sure she gets what she wants, and if it’s pink peonies, then she’s going to have pink peonies!”

  What was that? The fourth flower change? The fifth?

  I had no clue what they were paying the wedding planner, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

  “Move,” Camille snapped from behind me.

  I sidestepped and allowed my stepsister to pass, which was pretty much a metaphor for our entire relationship...or lack of one.

  We’d both been freshmen in high school when our parents married. For that first year or so, I’d hoped we’d be friends, or even actual sisters. Instead, I ended up living across the hall from my biggest rival. Not just in grades, or sports, or college acceptances, but in everything.

  But this upcoming wedding was the icing on her cupcake…or rather…her fancy French petit fours. Because a simple cupcake would never do for Virginia and Camille.

  This weekend was what my stepsister saw as her ultimate win.

  In just a few days, Camille was marrying my ex-boyfriend.

  My stepsister took her seat at the twelve-foot table, which had been transformed into wedding central—or, as I like to call it, Ground Zero—and flipped through the seating chart binder.

  Virginia hung up and rubbed her temples. “You’ll have the peonies, Cammy.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I know they’ll be beautiful.” Camille hugged Virginia and a pang of longing stabbed me in the stomach.

  I missed my mom. It had been nine years since cancer had stolen her from me—from us—but the longing and the sadness hadn’t faded. If anything, watching how close Virginia and Camille were made Mom’s absence echo that much louder in the big house.

  “You needed me?” I prompted.

  Two pairs of identical hazel eyes narrowed at me. It was eerie how much they looked alike.

  “The wedding is in a week, Langley,” Virginia said.

  “Yes, I know.” Of course I knew. I was pretty sure all of Colorado Springs and half of Denver knew.

  “You still haven’t given us the name of your plus-one.” Camille pointed at the empty seat next to mine at the head table on the chart. “Is your new boyfriend’s name that big of a secret? We haven’t even met him.”

  Yep, that would be hard to keep a secret, since I currently didn’t have one.

  “Can you blame me for not bringing him around?” I asked her with a sweet smile while gritting my back teeth so hard they hurt.

  Her very fake smile faded and two sets of disapproving eyes narrowed.

  “Langley, honestly. I thought you were over this childish jealousy.” Virginia sighed.

  I bit back the first response tha
t came to mind. It had four letters and rhymed with buck, which was, after all, exactly how I planned to secure said date for the Antichrist’s wedding.

  “Sorry, I’m just not sure if he can make it. I’m about to see him, so I’ll ask.” More like beg, plead, and bribe. But whatever it took, I was getting a damn date to this wedding.

  “It’s a week away, and he can’t be sure he has the time?” Camille asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

  “Well, not everyone’s life revolves around your wedding.” I shrugged. “I’ll ask him tonight. And honestly, I don’t see why I have to bring him.” I knew Camille insisting I have a plus-one was simply to put me on the spot and make me feel even more awkward about the situation than I already did.

  If I had a real boyfriend, I wouldn’t exactly be jumping at the chance to introduce him to them. Chances were Camille might think I’d found someone better than Richard and try to change out her groom along with her flowers. After all, in her world, people and things were disposable and easily replaceable.

  “Because if you don’t, the table won’t be even.” Camille raised her eyebrows at me like I was the stupidest human ever. Which, I very well may have been. It took me far too long to realize she was scheming to seduce my boyfriend.

  “Yeah, and we definitely wouldn’t want that.” I was usually better at keeping the sarcasm and resentment at bay, but the wedding madness had taken its toll lately.

  Virginia tilted her head, and I waited for the scathing rebuff which usually followed any kind of outburst or action she deemed inappropriate and classless.

  “Ladies, let’s let Langley get to her plans.”

  A-freaking-men…Dad to the rescue.

  “Of course. If you’ll just let us know by tomorrow?” Virginia asked, her smile softening to the your-dad-is-here degree.

  “Absolutely,” I promised.

  My heels clicked on the marble foyer as I quickly made my escape.

  “Langley,” Dad said softly, following.

  I turned, my hand on the handle, his presence and approval the only things tethering me to this house at the moment.

  “You okay?” He sounded worried. He always did when we spoke anymore. Or rather, when Virginia allowed us to speak.

  Sighing under my breath, I muttered, “I told you I’d do everything I could to make this go well, and I will.”

  I couldn’t meet his gaze as I told the blatant lie. I didn’t want it to go well. And I’d been dreaming of a date to help with that plan ever since I was bullied into being part of the wedding party. I never lied to my dad…unless it had to do with his new family. I was an accomplished liar when it came to all things Virginia and Camille.

  My father ran his hand over his salt-and-pepper hair and nodded. “I know you will. You always do the right thing. I hate that I had to ask you. I hate—” He dropped his voice. “I hate that you’re being put through this.”

  Through what? Being forced to stand next to my stepsister in a pink bridesmaid dress as she marries the first guy I’d ever loved? Scratch that. First guy I thought I’d loved?

  But that look in my father’s tired eyes… For a second, I felt bad about my plan; not just about the lie, but the possible consequences of my deception.

  “I know, Daddy.” And I did. “I’m okay. By this time next week, it will all be over.”

  “Thank God.” The man spoke the truth.

  I grinned.

  “Drive safe. And while I don’t honestly care if the head table is symmetrical or not, I am excited to meet this boy. You’ve always been pretty quiet about your relationships, and no, I don’t blame you, especially considering where we find ourselves at in this moment.” At least he acknowledged this epic shit show. How could he blame me when the one boy I’d brought home ended up in Camille’s bed only a few months later?

  I let go of the handle and put both arms around my father. “I love you.” I should say it more, but it was hard with Virginia and Camille always lurking around, ready to kill any kind of affection and tenderness between the two of us.

  “Not nearly as much as I love you. Now get out of here before she makes you fold origami swans or something.”

  I kissed him on the cheek and fled.

  Ten minutes later, I sat outside a little dive bar a few miles away from the gated walls of my neighborhood, nervously gripping my steering wheel. I’d driven past the place more than once on my way to my father’s house. It always had a rowdy crowd gathered outside, and there were frequently police cars parked out front. It wasn’t the kind of bar I would typically venture into, especially not when I was alone. But it was the perfect kind of place to find someone to mar Camille’s perfect day. In fact, driving past this bar late one night was what gave me the idea to bring home someone she would absolutely hate having in all her precious wedding photos. I wanted to bring someone the other guests would be so interested in, they talked about him, and not how beautiful Camille looked in her expensive dress. At first, it had all been nothing more than a pipe-dream, but as the wedding grew closer, the more and more I envisioned how I could subtly exact my revenge for being lied to and cheated on.

  “You can do this.” I gave myself a last-minute pep talk, grabbed my purse, and headed for the bar. I’d never been to a place like this, and I was afraid it showed.

  The bouncer looked me up and down as he examined my ID, then let me through the door. My heart pounded in time with the thought-stopping loud rock music coming from the live band on the corner stage.

  The crowd was almost at capacity.

  God, I wished I had brought one of my friends. Any of my friends, if I was being honest with myself. But it was June, so all of my college friends had already gone home for the summer, and I couldn’t trust anyone who knew Camille, which excluded everyone I knew from high school. I couldn’t change that reality, or the pathetic fact that Camille was marrying Richard. This was my world and I had to relinquish control over the things I couldn’t change.

  But I did have control over choosing who was sitting beside me during the reception.

  I scanned the first table and quickly dismissed the guys sitting there when I saw the logo of a local golf course on two of their polos. They were exactly like the guys I went to high school with, exactly like whom I was supposed to show up with. They looked as out of place as I felt.

  I didn’t want safe and proper. Or rich. Or cotillion-educated.

  I wanted someone who would make Camille and Virginia wish they’d never forced me into evening out their head table, or wearing that hideous pink dress, or expecting me to celebrate the marriage of my ex to my god-awful stepsister.

  Maybe I’d have more luck in the back by the pool tables? I cringed when I glanced their way. Okay, there was a line between someone who looked like they might have gone to prison and someone who had actually been in prison. Those guys? Definitely of the second variety. I wanted to shake things up, not land myself dead in a ditch somewhere.

  My legs were slightly unsteady as I crossed the room toward the long, wooden bar.

  I took the only empty seat and ordered a drink, dismissing the bartender as a viable option as soon as I caught sight of his wedding band.

  But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the guy sitting next to me.

  Holy shit, his arms were massive. And inked. Like, a lot. You didn’t see that kind of tattoo work in the circles I normally ran in. I couldn’t see his face since he was turned in the opposite direction, but his hair was close-cropped and very dark. Military, I guessed. We weren’t far from Fort Carson, and there had to be at least a dozen GIs in here. Running into members of the military was rather common on this end of town.

  The bartender slid my martini over, and I thanked him as I paid. Hopefully I’d have my choice made before I needed another drink—or ten. I didn’t want to have to Uber home and leave my car parked here overnight. I doubted it would still be there in the morning if I did.

  Shifting my gaze to my other side, I found another possi
ble option.

  He was tall and lanky with shaggy, curly hair, tattoos up his neck, and more than a few metal pieces decorating his face. He was definitely cute in a very ‘bad boy’ kind of way.

  Yep. He’d do just fine.

  Actually, so would any of the other guys in his drinking trio. They’d give Virginia a coronary at first sight, not to mention, make for spectacular additions to the reception photos.

  Okay, here went nothing.

  “Hi,” I said, because I figured something more cordial had to come out before “Can I pay you to fake date me for the week?”

  The guy turned, his eyes sweeping over me and lingering on my breasts before meeting my eyes.

  “Hello there,” he answered with a smirk.

  “I’m Langley,” I offered.

  “I’m Kyle,” he answered…directly to my breasts.

  Fake dating, I reminded myself. This guy sent my creep-o-meter up to level get-the-hell-out-before-he-wants-to-rub-the-lotion-on-your-skin. But, a girl had to do what she had to do when it came to getting revenge on her evil stepsister.

  This was probably the moment when I should charm him with some dazzling small talk, but I didn’t have the actual time for that, so I launched right into it.

  “So, this might sound utterly insane, but I have a business proposition for you.”

  He snorted. “Oh, sugar, that’s sweet, but I don’t have to pay for sex.”

  My jaw hit the floor as embarrassment sent heat straight to my cheeks.

  “No, that’s not—” I shook my head. “You think I’m a hooker?”

  He leaned back and assessed every inch of me, from toe to top. “That dress, this bar, and the smell of desperation? Yeah, it adds up to exactly that.”

  “What’s wrong with my dress?” I looked down at the little, red sheath I’d picked up at Neiman Marcus. “You know what? Never mind. What the hell was I thinking?”

  I slid off my barstool—which at five foot two was never a graceful motion, much less wearing this dress—while making my escape, and grabbed my purse off the bar. To hell with this.