Page 45 of The Broker

Everything that followed was a hazy blur of lust. Exhibitionism usually didn’t rank high on my kink list, but when she was watching? It was so fucking hot, I could barely keep it together.

And when she’d put her hand between her legs, I was done for.

I’d been in the lifestyle almost ten years, and I’d had lots of partners and a wide variety of experiences. So how the fuck had this experience with her blown everything else out of the water? How had it been the most erotic thing I’d ever participated in?

And then our conversation afterward—it was almost cruel how curious and interested she’d been. Shit, she was too good to be true.

I saw so much of myself in her when I’d been starting out. If she’d been anyone else, I would have loved getting to show her more. To watch her open her eyes and see all the new things out there.

It was fucking stupid of me to put her on the counter and give her an orgasm, but I’d lost all reason, and it was entirely her fault. I justified it to myself, saying she needed it. That I owed it to her.

When it was over, I couldn’t even bring myself to feel regret. There was no undoing it, so all we could do was move forward.

Friends.

I knew it was a terrible, selfish idea, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’d meant what I said about her being one of my only friends, and if I’d been stronger, I would have cut her off. Trying to be friends with her was going to be an exercise in torture.

To put a finer point on that, after she’d agreed we’d be friends with fucked-up benefits, Charlotte announced that since she was already here, she was going to clean. My unease with the arrangement increased tenfold. I liked power imbalance when I was in a scene, but only when our roles were defined, and consent was given.

This was . . . messy.

Like a coward, I hid in my office and tried to focus on my trades. I didn’t reply to the group chat with Patrick and Shannon, where they wanted to set up our next date. My head was swimming with thoughts of the girl who was in my bedroom, tidying up like nothing had happened there.

Was she as good at compartmentalizing as I was?

Maybe she was even better, because when she was done, she strolled into my office with an easy smile.

“I’m finished and heading out.” Her gaze swept over me just like it should. It was casual and friendly, and I hated it. I wanted to see her as affected as she made me. But she was immune. “You want to stick with Tuesday next week for your cleaning?”

I cleared the stickiness from my throat. “Yeah, that be great.”

“Okay.” Her smile was bright. “Talk to you later, friend.”

I sat to one side of Ardy’s office and took notes as Huston discussed the pitches he wanted to make to the Electralights team. The music festival would be setting next year’s lineup soon, and Warbler hoped to get another act included besides Stella, who’d headline.

My phone vibrated with a text message, and I glanced at the preview on my smartwatch.

Charlotte:Are you free tonight? I need a favor.

I dismissed the notification and tried to focus on my work, but I struggled. Whenever I glanced at my boss, the reminder of who his daughter was would play on repeat in my head.

Charlotte:I need to do something difficult and could really use a friend.

Shit. I pulled in a tight breath. I didn’t have plans tonight, but even if I had, how the hell could I say no to that? Whatever itwas, it had to be rough, because I couldn’t imagine I’d been her first choice to reach out to.

Ardy understood his people needed to be accessible and probably didn’t think anything of it when I pulled out my phone and typed out my response.

Me:Yes, I’m available tonight. Everything okay?

Charlotte:Yeah, I’ll explain later. Can I pick you up at 7?

I sent back a ‘thumbs up’ emoji, then put the screen to sleep and pocketed my phone. She’d said everything was okay, but for some reason, I continued to worry. It was impossible to know her tone through text, I reminded myself.

But my concern for her persisted the rest of the day, and it didn’t let up until she appeared on my front porch.

“Hey,” I said, stepping out to join her.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she looked nice, but I bit it back. She did look good, though. She wore a blue sleeveless shirt, white skinny jeans, and a pair of heeled sandals that made her almost as tall as I was. She wore the same makeup as the first night we’d met, and I got the sense she’d put a lot of effort into her look tonight.

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