Page 29 of The Broker

This infatuation with her was weird and unsettling.

It was a good idea she’d asked me not to be here next time she cleaned. She was far too distracting, and I’d had to read the same article multiple times to actually take in the information.

Eventually, I was able to force her from her mind, but it only lasted a few minutes.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and found Charlotte lingering at the edge of my doorway. She didn’t say anything, and hesitation streaked her expression. The moment I locked eyes on her, she startled, turned, and her feet carried her swiftly away.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

She halted and turned to face me. “Yeah. Yes.” Whatever she’d been thinking about, she made her decision and began her approach again. “Would it be all right if I used your house in some of my content?”

“What?”

She stopped a few feet in front of my desk. “I shot one of those Day in the Life videos a few days ago, when I was cleaning Warbler. It did really well, got a ton of engagement. I kept getting asked about my techniques or what products I was using.” She rested a hand casually on her hip. “Basically, they want more of that content, so I was wondering if you would mind if I did some filming here.” Her smile was warm and convincing. “I’d make sure nothing personal gets used in the shot, that it couldn’t be tied to you. No one will know where I am.”

The pleading look in her eyes punched right through any of my concerns. Was this the same look she used on her father when she wanted to get her way? Because, Christ, it worked on me.

“As long as everything stays private,” I said, “I guess that’s fine.”

“Awesome, thanks.” She grinned and practically bounced her way back to the kitchen. Her excitement caused me to smile.

But it froze when a new thought wormed its way into my mind. Was that the reason she looked so damn good today? Because she hoped to make some new content?

She didn’t make that effort for you. It was for her followers.

I shouldn’t have cared. So why the fuck was I disappointed?

EIGHT

Charlotte

The first week, it was incredibly weird to clean the house of a guy who’d had his dick in my mouth, but... hey. At least Noah was paying me.

Which was more than Zach had ever done.

I sighed as I mopped the kitchen tile and tried not to think about my ex—but I failed.

Fucking Zach.

Shortly after I’d moved back home, I’d noticed my iPad was missing. The last place I remembered having it was in his living room. I usually left it on his coffee table, stored in a decorative tray I’d bought because his place had the barest minimum of anything. Hardly any silverware or furniture or décor—unless you counted Davidson University posters taped to the walls.

Me: Is my iPad still on your coffee table?

Zach left my text message on read all day, which was infuriating. How hard was it to text me back a simple yes or no?

The second time I went to clean Noah’s house, it had been a lot easier. Sure, the place was messier, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t have that whining voice in the back of my head urging me constantly to go flirt with him. I could clean in peace.

That was the thing that was the most surprising about my new job, that cleaning somebody else’s place was sort of peaceful. I didn’t hate my biweekly trips to Warbler either. I liked seeing how fast I could get a task done.

Plus, it was turning out to be a freaking gold mine for content.

I couldn’t tell how many people cooked their lunches in the oven at Warbler, but it was obvious it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. So I spent Thursday afternoon watching different YouTube videos to plan my attack, and Friday night I shot a time lapse of me scrubbing it clean with my favorite Scrub Mommy sponge. I’d used a plastic putty knife on the years’ worth of grease baked on to the window glass, scraping the gunk off in several satisfying passes.

On Saturday, I recorded the voiceover where I explained my technique, and then layered it over the time lapse video. On Sunday morning, I posted it to my newly created profile,Hot Girl Cleans.

The profile name wasn’t self-appointed. It had come from a comment on one of the cleaning videos I’d posted to my regular profile.I’d watch this hot girl clean all day,the guy had said.

I genuinely hadn’t meant to make a thirst trap.

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