The Setup

The Set Up

A Bro Code Novel

by Rachel Van Dyken

Copyright © 2019 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

THE SETUP

Copyright © 2019 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

ISBN: 978-1-946061-39-3

Cover Art by Jena Brignola

Editing by Kay Springsteen Tate & Jill Sava

Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction

Table of Contents

Front Matter

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Want More Pleasure Ponies?

Want More Wingmen Inc?

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Also By Rachel Van Dyken

Thank you to Jill, the real Jilly, the notorious JILLIAN in this book for letting me use you as inspiration.

We always knew Finn would have a spitfire for a match!

Prologue

Finn

Senior Prom 2015

Not the best way to spend prom—but also not the worst. It’s not like I locked myself in the bathroom on purpose—she’d just been so aggressive. I had several red nail marks down my chest like I was some sort of animal, and she wanted to play tag with her claws.

My dick did not feel turned on in the slightest over the possession my date showed—if anything, I wanted to just get it over with, so I wasn’t going into college a virgin still.

Get yourself together, I muttered to myself in the mirror. My white tux was rumpled, my bowtie long gone. She’s hot, just do it already.

Everything okay in there? Evie’s voice was so not helping me get an erection.

I was going to need to do something about the fact that I couldn’t get it up for fear that she’d chop it off with her hand, by accident—it wasn’t like she was the smartest out of all the girls I could have chosen for the deed.

Just a minute, I said through clenched teeth. I just needed to stare at her tits, and I’d be back in business—or we’d be back in business.

I pointed down at my semi. Don’t let me down.

My phone started buzzing in my pocket. Annoyed, I pulled it out and went straight to panic mode. My sister.

She never called. Only texted. Our joke was that someone better either be in prison or half-dead to interrupt with something so mundane as a phone call.

What’s wrong? I barked into the phone.

She was sobbing. Mom didn’t come home tonight. Dad left for Vegas. They got in this huge fight about cheating, and I’m just so sick of it. I hate it.

My heart shattered in my chest.

Dumb, that I thought I could escape my parents for just one night and have fun like most guys did during prom.

I was practically raising my sister.

It was us against the world.

Thankfully, we had a bunch of crazy cousins and one insane aunt who owned Titus Enterprises—and reigned like the queen over her stocks.

I’m on my way, Tatum. Pack a bag, we’ll go stay with Aunt Nadine again.

Sh-she won’t mind?

I grinned into the phone. Nadine? Last time we spent the night she told us she was going to lock us inside and send someone to pack our shit.

Yeah. Tatum sounded happier already. Sometimes, I wonder how our parents can even be part of the Titus family. Everyone’s normal but them.

Remember, Dad’s always been the black sheep. He married for position, not love. Now look at him.

Shit, look at me. Was I doing the same thing? Just trying to get sex over with because it was on the high school checklist.

I’ll see you soon, I said after some silence.

And when I hung up the phone and unlocked the door to the hotel bathroom only to see Evie spread out on the bed completely naked. I felt nothing but sick over the fact that I was going to make the same mistake my dad did, create checklists and spreadsheets and then say I’m only successful when all the boxes are filled.

Bullshit.

Evie, I gotta run, family emergency.

She bolted up from the bed and covered herself with one of the pillows. Her honey-blonde hair was still pinned in an updo, and her spray tan looked about one romp away from turning the sheets orange. Are you serious?

Yeah, sorry. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. For what it’s worth, you are absolutely beautiful.

She grinned up at me. You’re a good guy, Finn.

That’s what they say. I tried to keep it lighthearted. God, I was so tired of being told I was a good guy.

So tired of having to follow the rules because my parents didn’t know how.

Thanks. I grabbed my keys and left.

Eighteen and still a virgin.

There were worse things to focus on.

Like how the hell I was going to leave Tatum in my parents’ clutches when I went to college the following year.

Chapter One

Finn

4 Years Later

Wingmen Inc Headquarters Downtown Seattle

Took you long enough. My best friend Leo grinned then threw one of his blue stress balls at my face—more like chucked it—I caught it with my right hand and threw it aggressively at his family jewels and received a middle finger in response as he shoved away from his desk, his chair rolling him toward the safety of the window.

Home.

I was finally home.

All four of us, Knox, Leo, Slater, and I were finally where we belonged, working in downtown Seattle at Wingmen Inc, one of the world’s premier matchmaking services and apps.

We’d spent four years on the UW campus doing nothing but helping people with breakups, showing them how to ask for what they deserved in a relationship, practicing Reiki, touching—but not prostituting ourselves out—all with the end goal of this, a chic office downtown, stock options, a 401K, and more money than anyone should have at twenty-two soon to be twenty-three. Not only was I a trust fund kid, but I’d been one of the first kid YouTubers before my parents forced me to hand my channel over to someone else because of privacy issues.

That, along with my inheritance, was nice, don’t get me wrong, but I preferred to stay busy. I have my aunt Nadine to blame for that since it was her blood sweat and tears that made Titus Enterprises what it was today.

Hell, I think she cried when I told her I was going to be working for the matchmaking company instead of heading to their Portland offices.

With a sigh, I sat down in Leo’s office and grinned. Corner office, huh?

I have floor-to-ceiling windows, and I can see the Puget Sound from here, so yeah, I’m happy. You’re on the same floor but two doors down, and the last of us.

The last? I repeated. Somehow it felt like a bad omen. It didn’t help that rain pelted against his window furiously or that a crack of thunder chose that moment to make itself known.

I’d been walking around with a sense of foreboding ever since checking in with HR that morning and getting sent up to the VP floor. I shook it off and glared at my friend.

Growing a beard? I offered.

His green eyes narrowed, and then he started throwing the stress ball in the air, a plot-worthy grin spread across his face.

I didn’t like that grin. It was terrifying, actually, like he was planning something, and I was going to end up on the sad end of that plan, naked, drunk, or possibly both.

Just in time. He waved toward the door.

Knox and Slater waltzed in, same grins on their stupid faces. All of us were tall, Knox had blond hair and a perpetual man bun, Leo’s hair was like mine, a bit darker with shots of blond, and Slater, well Slater was the shortest coming in at five-ten, but his skin was darker, compliments of his French heritage, giving him a complexion girls had gone wild over in college. His caramel hair was combed to the side, and he looked so damn happy I wanted to punch him.

What’s going on? I crossed my arms and tried to look unaffected. Isn’t it almost time for the Monday morning meeting? And why the hell are all of you grinning at me like that?

You’re the last one, man. Knox shrugged. All of us are either married or about to get engaged, he shot a look to Slater.

I groaned. Please stop reminding me that he sees my sister naked.

Daily, Leo just had to point out.

Slater waved as if I needed another reminder that he was standing right in front of me.

Damn it, I don’t want details! I jumped to my feet. And you bet your ass you’ll be asking for permission from me, or I’m throwing you off the building!

Bro. Slater looked relaxed, not panicked like I wanted him to be, probably because he knew my love for him ran deep like a brother, which was unfortunate when I was trying to scare him shitless. I’ll ask. I’m still ring hunting.

I perked up. You didn’t like the last one?

It was too big, she’d hate it, he pointed out.

I softened up a bit. You at least know her well.

Oh, he knows her. Knox laughed.

No more. I pointed at him and then looked around the room at my best friends. And I may be the last single guy, but I’m fine. I’m happy. I have a job… was thinking about getting a goldfish—all is well in my world.

First off… Oh good, Knox was counting. He held up one finger, alarm bells rang in my head. You’ll kill the goldfish and feel guilty, and real men don’t start off with a goldfish from the fair. They get a medium-sized dog and call it Buster—

He’s not wrong. Slater coughed.

I shot him a glare while Knox continued. He held up two fingers. Secondly, you need companionship now that the gang’s all broken up—

He means the Pleasure Ponies, Leo said loud enough for the entire floor to hear. Just what I needed, our old campus nickname following me to the breakroom where all the single ladies would ask if it really was true that we made a girl orgasm by chewing our Lucky Charms a certain way.

Not true, by the way.

Or at least, not, er… accurate.

I digress. It was a fresh start.

So why did I feel so anxious?

And three? I asked.

Three is, you’re the only VP that can do it.

Do what? I asked.

Ian, the owner of Wingmen Inc., poked his blond head