Page 79 of The Broker

I didn’t touch his bed, though.

With the camera placement I had planned, it wouldn’t be in my shot anyway.

Once I’d finished clearing the floor and decluttering the space, I brought in my video supplies and set up my equipment. When that was done, I finally stole a glance at the tangle of sheets on his bed.

Until next time, Charlotte.

That was what his eyes had whispered the last time we’d seen each other. Shit, I was determined to make that happen today.

But first things first.

He wasn’t here yet, anyway.

The video on the agenda for today was about dusting. How to do it properly and quickly. I set up my camera, angling it toward the dresser with the mirror hanging above it, and clipped on my microphone.

I reread the notes I’d made on my phone to make sure I’d hit all the points I wanted to, rehearsed a few times, and got the camera rolling. It didn’t take me long to shoot the video. I was getting better, more efficient, and honestly, I was having fun.

“How the hell am I having fun while dusting?” I asked aloud to the empty room. If I had to rank my favorite chores, dusting would be near the bottom. I shook my head, then moved my camera setup, changing the angle to shoot B roll footage.

I’d nearly finished when Noah’s voice rang out from down the hall. “Charlotte?”

An evil smile burst on my lips as I turned off my equipment. “In here.”

As he made his approach, I glanced in the mirror, giving myself a quick check to make sure everything looked right. Heappeared in the doorway but took only a single step into the room before halting.

His eyes went wide, and he stood awkwardly, like he was trying very hard to hold perfectly still. “What... are you wearing?”

TWENTY-ONE

Charlotte

I set a hand on my hip by the white apron sash, posing for Noah so he could take it all in.

His gaze started at my black high heels and worked its way up over the thigh high stockings and the skirt that was so short, it barely covered my ass. The fluffy white petticoat underneath the black skirt wasn’t comfortable, but that was to be expected.

I bought the cheapest, sluttiest French maid Halloween costume I could find online.

The top of the dress was cut low and decorated with white frills, and I’d pulled my hair up into bun, so a few loose tendrils fell around my face. It called his focus to the thick band of black fabric wrapped around my throat. I’d had to buy the choker necklace and the feather duster I held separately, but it had been worth it.

The accessories made the outfit.

“I was inspired by your idea,” I said, “of buying a dress to clean in. What do you think?” I shifted my weight to the other foot, swaying my hips and making the skirt ruffle. “Do you like it?”

My question was entirely rhetorical because the expression on his face told me exactly how much he liked it. Heat filled hiseyes, and he stared at me like I was the most tempting thing he’d ever seen.

Yet he lingered in the doorway, unsure what to do. His fists balled at his side, and his face changed until he looked almost angry. Like I’d turned him on when he hadn’t wanted me to.

I’d prepared for this, though.

Because I’d spent enough time with him to know he wasn’t great when he’d been caught off-guard. He’d just needed another minute to process, and then we’d be fine.

Then we could get down to business.

When I bought the costume two days ago, I’d decided that since I was his maid, I might as well lean into it.

His gaze was glued to me as I sauntered over to his bed, set the feather duster on his nightstand, and gestured to the messy bedding. “While you’re in here, I thought I’d ask. Do you want me to wash these sheets?” I leaned over suggestively, smoothing a hand across them, knowing my ass cheeks were peeking out beneath my skirt. “Are they,” I glanced at him over my shoulder and emphasized the word in a smoky voice, “dirty?”

My sultry question spurred him into action, and he took a few steps deeper into the room. His expression morphed into one that dripped with desire. If this was a game, he was now ready to play.

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