The Consequence of Revenge (Consequence 2)

Gross.

“Ladies!” Rex clapped his hands from the front of the plane. “The competition has officially begun.”

Squeals were heard around the plane, followed by laughter and more giggling. If I hadn’t needed the money I would have seriously quit right then and there. But two hundred and fifty grand? It was a lot. And even if I only survived the trip and was one of the last four girls? I still took home twenty, which would be more than enough to pay for my last two years of college, plus housing.

That was the agreement between me and my parents. They had paid for two years; I would pay for two years. I’d taken out loans for my junior year and now that I was starting my senior year, reality was starting to hit me in the face. I needed money—fast.

“Your first mission,” Rex said, interrupting my thoughts, “is to earn the Bachelor’s trust as well as his love. Earn both, and you win half a million dollars. Or, at the end of the game, you can choose to go your separate ways and take your half of the money, leaving the Bachelor at the altar.”

Rex paused dramatically. “But our Bachelor this year, well, he’s special . . . I’m guessing you won’t want to dismiss him too early on. After all, it’s not every day you have the opportunity to marry a millionaire.”

Gina dropped the pine nuts onto the tray table and swore.

Stormy giggled.

A girl in front of me collapsed and needed to be slapped to be woken up.

A flight attendant started handing out champagne. Right, because that’s just what these girls needed. More alcohol. Because that always helped people make sound decisions.

“All of you are here for two reasons.” Rex eyed us all suspiciously, his orange face dancing with delight. “Money and love. But this year we’ve brought you both in the same package. The choice is yours. Now, let’s get to know the new Bachelor, shall we?”

I took a glass of champagne and watched in fascination as Max appeared on the screen.

“What’s your full name?” a female voice asked.

Max rolled his eyes. “Are you serious right now? What are you filming this for again, Milo?”

The camera shook a bit. “Er, my future children. I want them to have memories of you, Max!”

Max’s brow furrowed. “Because I’m going somewhere?”

The girl named Milo laughed. “No.”

“Because you’re assassinating me?” Max winked. “Seriously, Milo, what gives?”

“Fine.” She set the camera down and walked around to join Max on the couch. She was really pretty. Funny, they looked good together. Almost too good. “Grandma asked me to.”

“Grandma?” Max eyed her suspiciously and crossed his arms. Muscles bulged beneath his white T-shirt. Suddenly a bit . . . parched, I took a long, soothing sip of champagne. I hadn’t noticed he was so fit. “The same grandma that took advantage of my brother, Reid, and made it so he weeps whenever he sees dentures? That grandma?”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Milo sniffed.

“Milo.” Max braced her shoulders. “I’m the one who has to hear him sob into his pillow at night, dude’s got it rough.”

“Dude’s a celebrity playboy.” Milo rolled her eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

Max released her. “Also true.”

“She wants us to build memories.”

“Funny,” Max joked. “Pretty sure the last thing Reid wants is to remember anything to do with your grandma. Swear that woman has the strength of Samson. Did you know she held him down and—”

“No more details.” Milo waved him off. “Now, introduce yourself.”

“Does she have dementia?” Max asked.

“Er, yes.” Milo nodded. “Severe memory problems.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that information along to my brother. Maybe now he’ll stop sleeping with a knife under his pillow.”

“Max!” Milo smacked him. “Focus, now, state your name, weight, height, and favorite color.”

Max’s eyes narrowed before he turned to the camera and shrugged. “Max, and I’m not giving my last name because that’s just ridiculous, I mean I’m pretty sure Grandma knows how to use a computer. How do I know she’s not going to Google the shit out of me, find my home, seduce my brother, and take over the world?”

“Details.” Milo waved him off. “Last name?”

“Emory.” He sighed.

“Favorite color?”

“Peach.”

“Liar.”

“Orange.”

“Max . . .”

“Fine, I like green because it reminds me of grass which in turn reminds me of your grass allergy and of that one time we rolled around in the grass for hours and I kissed every single part of your—” Max grinned. “Oh, hey, Colt, didn’t see you there.”

I heard a male mutter, “Ass” in the background.

“Job?”

“No thanks.” Max shrugged.

“No,” Milo groaned. “What’s your job?”

Max’s face paled as his body slumped a bit, then as soon as the action happened, it was like he snapped out of it, pulling a panty-melting smile out of nowhere and flashing it at the camera in such a way that I felt hot and cold all over.

“Aw, sweetie.” Max licked his lips. “I think we both know I have a job that I take very, very seriously. After all, what type of man would I be if I didn’t give of myself to all those single women? Come on, you’ve had a taste. You know it’s good, so good that—” A pillow came flying at Max’s face from behind the camera. “Colt, wow, you just keep popping up places. Weird, I didn’t even notice you standing there. But then again you know what they say, small presence, small pe—”