SIX
Charlotte
Tonight had been a rollercoaster of emotions, so I should have known there was another steep drop waiting for me when I got home.
My mom was in the kitchen, washing dishes when I came in, and she didn’t even look up from her task as I toed off my shoes.
“Your father wants to talk to you. He’s in the living room.”
My stomach twisted into a tight ball, and for a split second, I considered running away. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and running away had gotten me into this situation in the first place. I straightened my shoulders, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and tried to sound nonchalant. “Did he say what it was about?”
“You’d have to ask him.” Her tone was a total mystery.
Either she knew and was purposefully being vague, or she hadn’t a clue—and it was most likely the second one. My mother was born and raised in West Virginia, growing up in an ultra-traditional household, and like her mother, she was content to be the picture perfect little housewife.
My father made all the decisions and rules, and she was utterly submissive to him. She loved it, too—I’d swear she was never happier than when she was setting dinner on the table. I didn’t quite get it, but who was I to complain? She was a great mom.
There was a set of pans beside the sink, waiting their turn to get scrubbed. “You want me to help you finish those?” I asked.
It wasn’t just a stall tactic. All my life, my mother had been obsessed with keeping a clean house, and it had rubbed off on me. I felt the urge to wipe down the countertops, to dry the dishes in the drying rack and put them away.
It was why it had taken every fiber of my being not to start cleaning at Noah’s house earlier. He was a bachelor, and I knew I shouldn’t have expected much, but—damn. He was messy.
Fuck me, the whole evening had been messy .
“No, thanks,” my mom said. “I’ve got it. Go see your father.”
I swallowed a breath and made my way toward the living room.
There was some college football rerun playing on the TV, but my dad wasn’t paying any attention to it. He sat on the couch, his laptop was set up on a TV tray in front of him, and he had his phone pressed to one ear.
My dad was a powerful guy. He ran one of the most successful talent agencies in Nashville, and right now he seemed so deep in his conversation that nothing else existed. I hesitated in the doorway. He looked busy, and I could come back—
Come here , he motioned as soon as his gaze landed on me. Then he flung that finger toward the empty spot beside him on the couch.
Without uttering a single word, I could tell he was upset with me, and I trudged my way toward him. Oh, no. What had I done? I sifted through the day’s events, trying to figure out what the issue might be.
I’d been good, hadn’t I?
Shit, I hated this new dynamic between us.
Growing up, I’d always been a daddy’s girl, and my parents had showered me with love and praise. We never fought. I never got into trouble. And they never pushed back when I wanted something. If I made a mistake, they were willing to give me an endless number of second chances.
Everything had been so . . . easy.
Looking back now, I was well aware I’d taken it all for granted.
But I’d been young and dumb, leading to my idiotic decision to go back to school, even though I’d never been that strong of a student. My father had moved Heaven and Earth to make it possible, pulling strings and calling in favors to get me into Davidson University.
I’d probably never know what all he had to do, but I was fairly certain he’d needed to get Stella, his biggest client, involved. And because she was such a sweetheart, she’d done it for both of us.
My first year of school wasn’t that bad or hard. But the second year? God, how I struggled. The classes were boring, and college wasn’t at all what I’d thought it would be. Everyone was so serious and knew exactly what they wanted to do. I even tried switching my major from business to marketing before the spring semester, but it didn’t help much.
Also not helping was that I met Zach in the spring at a March Madness watch party one of my friends hosted. He was older, alumni, and I think I was already halfway in love with him by the end of the night.
As time marched on, I realized trying to get a degree had been a terrible idea.
There was no way I could endure another two years of it, and once I’d come to that conclusion, it was impossible to get motivated to go to class. So of course I didn’t pass most of them.
When my parents checked my grades, it was the first time they truly looked disappointed in me. It was such a strange, uncomfortable feeling that I panicked. I swore to them it was a fluke. Next year would be better, I promised.
My parents reluctantly agreed but cautioned me against spending too much time with the new boyfriend. I agreed that when the summer was over, I’d buckle down and get my college career back on track.
I couldn’t see it then, but the thing that attracted me the most to Zach—besides his looks—was how unserious he was. Sure, he had an okay job and a decent apartment, but I ignored all the red flags waving right in my face.
It wasn’t right that a thirty-year-old guy wanted to spend every weekend hanging out at his old college. Or how he was so comfortable dating a girl who was eight years younger than him and was at a totally different stage of her life. I didn’t see that I was just a way for him to relive his college glory days.
The love I had for him was blinding.
My parents weren’t nearly as fooled. My dad tried to hide his unease with my much older boyfriend, and of course my mom deferred to whatever my dad did, but they knew how wrapped up in him I’d become. It was clear I hung on his every word, and they sensed my participation in school was suffering because of it.
Over the fall, my father’s passive aggressive statements about the age difference grew louder and more direct, but I brushed him off.
The first fight we ever had came after my dad’s stern warning. If I failed out of school, I was told, there’d be no more chances. There’d also be no more campus apartment, no more car, and no more credit card.
Long overdue tough love , my dad had announced. He threatened I’d be on my own—but this felt hollow. A bluff.
I was certain he didn’t mean it, not really.
At that point, I’d sunk so much into Zach, it was too late. I was spending nearly every night at his apartment anyway. In the mornings, he’d go to work, and I’d tidy up the apartment, run his errands for him, then spend the day making TikTok videos instead of going to class.
I’d been so fucking stupid thinking he loved me, it was embarrassing. I cringed now at the idea I’d been invaluable to him.
The truth was I’d become Zach’s bang maid.
When I officially failed out of school, I put off telling my parents for as long as possible. I made up excuses, like my professors were slow to put my final scores in, or that the school’s website kept erroring out when I tried to look up my grades. My panic and shame were so intense, I could barely breathe.
And when I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I did something really, really stupid.
I used my credit card, the one my parents paid for and said was only for emergencies, to book me and Zach an expensive trip to Hawaii.
They didn’t find out until we landed in Honolulu, and my father was so angry, he threatened to get on the next flight out and come get me. I dug in, refusing to tell him where we were, and I justified it to myself saying I needed the escape. More importantly, I needed the romantic trip to sweeten Zach up, because at the end of it I’d have to ask if I could move in with him.
When we went to check out of the hotel, my credit card was declined, and Zach was so pissed he had to pay for it that he barely said two words to me during either of the long flights home.
My parents were waiting for me at my apartment.
I’d never had my father’s harsh tone directed at me. “You have two choices, young lady,” he’d said. “Leave him and come home, where we can work through this.” He’d crossed his arms over his chest and glared at my boyfriend, like Zach was the cause of all this. “Or stay with him, and we’re done financially supporting you.”
“Come on, man,” Zach scoffed. “She’s an adult.”
Which was ironic because my boyfriend never treated me like one.
But how could I choose anything other than him? He was my whole world, plus walking away meant I’d have to admit I’d made a mistake and face consequences. It was too scary to do anything but stay.
And it broke my father’s fucking heart.
The guilt it caused was so crushing, my knees went weak and I’d struggled to stay upright as my parents left.
I moved in with Zach the following afternoon, but he made it clear that this was his space and not ours . He was doing me an enormous favor and reminded me of it every chance he got. There was nothing I could do. I had nowhere else to go because my father had paid to break the lease on my apartment.
Surely, he’d done it to force me to come home, but I told myself I didn’t care. I was an adult and could make it on my own, I lied to myself. I refused to think about the damage I had caused because it was too shameful. Too painful.
By February, less than two months after moving in, the cracks in my relationship began to form. Once we hit March, they grew too big to ignore. Zach was frustrated all the time, upset that I didn’t look harder for a job, especially because he didn’t make enough to support us both.
He didn’t care I was slipping into depression.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he snapped one evening after he came home from work and discovered me watching Netflix. “You did this. You made this choice, and you forced it on me.”
Our fairy tale romance became a nightmare. He spent every weekend at the college bars, and I grew tired of going with him. He typically ignored me the whole evening, and... God. Neither of us were college students anymore. Why did he even like this?
It wasn’t exactly fair, but I began to resent him.
He bitched endlessly about not having any money, but he never had a problem buying overpriced beers and greasy food. Sometimes, he’d even splurge and buy drinks for people he’d just met. Kids, really. He craved their attention, wanting to be known as the ‘big man on campus.’ I didn’t understand it at all.
When I started sleeping on the couch, that was the final straw, the end of our relationship.
“Pay rent or move out,” Zach announced at the end of April, his tone cold and indifferent and like he’d never loved me at all.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I said.
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course you do. Go home, Charlotte.”
As hard as our breakup had been, I also felt an enormous sense of relief when it was over. Like I’d been released from some kind of spell. As if I’d been given permission to finally make the right choice.
I dreaded calling my dad, but I also longed to hear his voice, and I cried so much during our conversation, he barely understood any of it. He stayed stoic, though, unmoved by my tears. Maybe he thought they were a ploy to soften him up, but they’d been one thousand percent genuine. At the end of it, he told me he’d clear his schedule and where I could meet him for lunch.
Our conversation in person lasted more than two hours, and I shook like a leaf the whole time. At least I came prepared—not just to face the consequences either. After several apologies and a hell of a lot more tears, I laid out a plan for me to come home.
I’d do whatever my parents asked—without question—and earn back their trust. I’d get a job and put myself on a repayment schedule for the trip to Hawaii. It might take years, but I was committed.
I was determined to show them I understood how badly I had fucked up.
He listened to me with the skepticism of a man who’d been burned before. Then he sighed heavily, said he’d talk it over with my mom and get back to me. I spent a sleepless night on the floor of my friend’s dorm room, and in the morning my father called.
I was allowed to come home.
It would be probationary, he warned. They wouldn’t be giving me back my car or my credit cards any time soon, and if I was caught lying or refused to do something they asked of me, the deal would be off.
I couldn’t agree to it fast enough.
The first few days after I’d moved back into my old room were... awkward. I danced around my folks like the floor was made of eggshells, doing everything in my power to be helpful and perfect.
And now here it was, three weeks after I’d moved in, that we’d encountered our first issue. I sat with my back straight on the couch, dutifully waiting for him to finish his phone call. When it was over, he set his phone down and closed his laptop, giving me his full attention.
My breath stuck awkwardly in my lungs.
“How did your date with Preston go?” His tone was easy, but there was nothing casual about his question.
I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard. I hadn’t told anyone about it, only that I was meeting a friend for a drink. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. It was a guess. Erika overheard him in the office when he asked for your number.” He settled back into his seat and a slight frown crossed his expression. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me?”
My shoulders sagged. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, I swear. I’m not interested in him like that. Honestly, I wish I hadn’t said yes to him.”
My dad softened a degree. “That bad, huh?”
“It wasn’t great.”
He nodded his understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that. He seems like a good enough kid and he’s your age, but you can’t have a relationship with him.”
“Why’s that?” My heart beat faster. Was this the moment my parents told me I’d need their approval on who I dated?
“Because his company is handling Troy’s release party and you’re going to be working for Warbler. So you’ll need to steer clear of anyone involved with the company.”
I had my hands in my lap and tried not to fidget with my fingers. “Are you putting me back on the receptionist desk full time?”
God, please, no.
I’d done that job for a year after graduating from high school, and I despised it. I wasn’t any good at it, and the one day I’d filled in this week had been torture.
“No, your mom made a suggestion, and I think it’s a great idea. I was complaining about how messy the Warbler office has been getting recently, and she said you might like tidying it up.” He plastered on a smile. “We’d knock two hundred off your debt for each visit, and I was thinking twice a week.”
I held perfectly still, trying not to show my dismay. “You want me to be a... janitor?”
He laughed lightly. “I was thinking more like a cleaning lady, but if you want to call it that, that’s fine.” He gazed at me like this was a pretty sweet offer. “What do you say? I don’t need another receptionist. Irene does a great job, plus, I didn’t think you liked it all that much.”
No, I didn’t.
And I didn’t hate cleaning either, but... shit. He’d posed it as a question, and there was only one answer I could give. I’d promised them I’d do whatever they wanted, even if that meant swallowing my pride.
“Okay.” I mustered a weak smile and attempted to sound pleased, even though I hated the idea. “What days do you want me to come in?”
The silver lining to having my new ‘job’ was I got access to my car again. I parked on the street outside of Warbler Entertainment, turned off the ignition, and glanced at the bucket full of cleaning supplies sitting in my passenger seat.
Just how I wanted to spend my Friday evening.
I pushed the thought away. I’d earned this humble sandwich, and I was going to eat it. So I grabbed the bucket’s handle, got out of the car, and made my way up the sidewalk toward the building.
It was a little after six p.m. and the sun was sinking in the sky, so it cast a warm glow on the historic house that had been converted into Warbler’s office. The main floor was the only part I’d need to deep clean, and as I stared up at the building, I was grateful. The second floor was the recording studio and green room, and my only responsibility up there was to dust and sweep the floors.
There wasn’t anybody at the front desk or in the main room. No one was working late except my father, which was to be expected. Most of the Warbler team barely came to the office, anyway. Their business was done at venues or over lunch or on the road.
I set my bucket on Irene’s desk, pulled on a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves, and surveyed the area, planning the most efficient strategy. There were two more desks in the room, each with a swivel chair behind it and a pair of comfy chairs situated in front of them. They were spots for employees to use when meeting with clients or doing some work in the office, and since they didn’t ‘belong’ to anyone, the surfaces were bare.
My mother had taught me to clean from the top down, and start with the left wall and work my way around the room. I’d dust, empty trash cans, and then vacuum, I decided. Even though the floors were carpeted, I realized I’d need a broom. I’d learned a handy trick of putting a microfiber cloth over the top of the broomstick and using that as a duster for places too high to reach.
The broom and the vacuum were in a utility closet off the kitchen, so I headed that way. When I came around the hallway corner and stepped onto the linoleum floor, I pulled to a stop. A surprised sound burst from my lips.
The kitchen was a mess.
I should have remembered from when I worked here that Fridays were always the worst. People were too busy gearing up for the weekend to be considerate of others. A large collection of used coffee mugs and dirty plates from past lunches were stacked precariously beside the sink. The pot on the coffee maker was half full but looked like it hadn’t been used for days. Christ, there was no telling how old that coffee was.
But all of this wasn’t what had startled me.
It was because the kitchen wasn’t empty.
A man stood with his back to me, washing something in the sink. I was pretty sure I knew everyone on staff at Warbler, yet I’d never seen this guy before. My entrance surprised him too, and he turned to glance at me—
“What the fuck?” I blurted.
I had been so, so wrong. I’d seen this man before... because he was the one I’d gone home with last night.
The same shock I felt was reflected perfectly on Noah’s handsome face. He stood frozen, simply staring at me while water continued to flow from the faucet behind him. His question came low and crowded with confusion. “Charlotte?”
I was going to ask what the hell was he doing here, but heavy footsteps approached.
“Oh, you’re here,” my father said, although it was unclear who he was talking to.
The doorway to the kitchen was narrow, and he had me boxed in. It left me with no choice but to step forward and move closer, which I really didn’t want to do. The proximity to Noah felt... dangerous. Just seeing him again made me question if I’d made the right choice leaving him last night, even when I knew it’d been the right one. He kept his gaze fixed on me, even as he reached back to shut off the running water, but then his attention shifted to the man who strolled in to stand beside me.
My father didn’t sense an ounce of tension in the room. He gave Noah a once-over, and his tone was horrifyingly familiar. “Didn’t realize you were still here.”
“I just had a Zoom meeting with Michelle at SoFi,” Noah answered like he’d been accused of something. “It was the only time she had available in her schedule.”
My dad nodded, then cast a hand in my direction. “This is my daughter Charlotte.” He flashed his signature smile, the one that could diffuse almost any situation and turn strangers into instant friends. “Charlotte, this is Noah Robinson. He’s our new VP of booking.”
My dad wasn’t studying Noah the way I was, so he didn’t see the other man’s reaction to this information. He didn’t notice how Noah’s shoulders straightened, or that his Adam’s apple moved with a thick swallow.
Noah’s voice was just slightly off-kilter as he thrust his hand forward. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”
My breath got stuck in my lungs. My cheeks flamed hot, and it grew more intense with each passing second when I didn’t reach out to take his hand.
After I’d left his place last night, I’d been sure I’d never see him again, so this moment felt so fucking cruel.
He’d said he was a stockbroker, hadn’t he? What the hell was this finance bro doing at Warbler as a vice president? And a VP of booking, no less. It meant he didn’t just work for my father—he worked closely with him.
“What happened to Huston?” I demanded, angry that no one had mentioned this new hire when I’d filled in for Irene earlier this week.
“He wants to retire,” my dad said, “but he agreed to stay on and help Noah with the transition.” My father’s concerned gaze bounced from me to Noah’s extended hand, which I was still ignoring. He had to utter it under his breath. “Don’t be rude.”
I clamped my teeth together and went to reach for the offered handshake, only to draw back my hand at the last second. Fuck . I was wearing those terribly unsexy yellow rubber gloves, the ones that went all the way to my elbows, and I pulled one off in such a hurry, the rubber snapped painfully against my skin.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, clasping Noah’s hand.
It was just a basic handshake, but the contact of his skin pressed to mine sent sensations from last night flooding through my mind and body. Could he tell? His eyes widened, and he pulled in a short breath.
“She’s going to be helping us out here for the next few months,” my dad announced.
Noah dropped my hand like it was made of lead, but he kept his tone light and curious. “Yeah? With what?”
“She’ll be responsible for cleaning the office twice a week.”
I wasn’t sure if there was a flicker of disdain in his eyes, or if I just expected it to be there, projecting my shame onto him.
“Oh.” It looked like he hadn’t a fucking clue what to say to that. “That’s nice.”
“He’s paying me,” I said instantly—although I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like that made it any better.
“Yeah?” He gave a polite smile. “Do you do houses too?”
I don’t think his joking tone had meant to tease, but I couldn’t help myself. “Yours certainly needs it.”
“What?” my father asked.
Shit.
Shit! The alarm that ran through Noah’s expression was perfectly mirrored in my body.
“Uh... I mean, I assume,” I babbled. “Since you probably just moved in.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Moving is messy.” Noah lifted an eyebrow. “That’s why my place is such a disaster.”
My father was completely unaware of the subtext. “Is it? Well, I’m sure Charlotte would be happy to help you with that.”
“Oh, Dad, that’s okay—”
He didn’t seem to hear me, and his focus stayed with Noah. “I’ll give you her number, and you two should work something out.” He leaned into me, bumping his shoulder gently against mine. “I know this one could use the extra cash.”
God, kill me now.
I couldn’t argue with him.
Not in front of Noah, and also because I’d promised to agree to whatever my parents wanted. Plus, my dad wasn’t wrong—I did need the money. But my heart did a little somersault when I peered up at Noah.
For a split second, he looked like he’d just won some kind of battle.
Hadn’t he? He’d wanted my number last night, and I’d refused to give it to him. Now my father was going to hand it over... and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
But then Noah’s smug expression dropped away, like he’d just remembered I was his boss’s daughter and having any kind of relationship with me—even if it was just to clean his house—was a terrible idea.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
My father waved his hand. “Nonsense. She’d love to help, and I’m sure she’d be great.”
“Really, it’s okay,” Noah said. “My house isn’t that bad.”
“Didn’t you just use the word ‘disaster?’” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I wished I could suck it back in. What the hell was wrong with me?
The pitch of my father’s voice lowered into seriousness. “Really, you’d be doing both of us a favor. Charlotte’s in debt, and she needs the work.”
Oh, my God. I stared wide-eyed at my dad and had to choke back the protest I wanted to make. The humiliation sliced through me, hot and stinging.
And I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Noah’s gaze darted away from me, like he wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard it, so he could avoid any secondhand embarrassment.
One thing was clear, though.
Noah didn’t want this arrangement any more than I did. Maybe my father couldn’t see the desperate plea in the other man’s eyes, but if he did, he chose to ignore it. He was unaware he was forcing this on a new employee, and that Noah probably felt trapped. He wasn’t going to say no to his boss.
“In that case,” he did his best impression of a deer caught in headlights, “that sounds... good.”
Shit .
“Great,” I bit out.
I couldn’t look at either of them a moment longer. Instead, I busied myself pulling the rubber glove back on and began to plot how I could get out of this arrangement.
Because I could not clean his house.
I could not be around him again because he wasn’t interested in giving me the kind of relationship I wanted, and I feared if I spent any more time with him, I wouldn’t just waver on my ‘no sex until love’ rule...
I’d break it to smithereens.