AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER ONE
Clarke
“So, as you can see, this is what you’re paying for.” I breathe in the crisp sea air as I step onto the wraparound balcony that offers a view of the ocean people like me could only dream about waking up to every day.
I’m no stranger to houses like this. Homes worth millions of dollars with every upgrade you could ever want. Estates that house a master suite larger than my entire downtown condo. Luxury living that is so far out of reach for most people that it’s laughable. Yet, I show houses like this for a living. I sell houses like this. Houses that are far bigger than one family would ever need yet insist on having.
Not that I’m complaining. The bigger the price tag, the bigger the payout. And properties like this have been few and far between as of late.
“This is fantastic.” Sarah, the middle-aged woman next to me, sighs, looping her arm through her husband’s, whom if I had to wager, is at least twenty-five years her senior. “I love it.” I catch a brief glimpse of her dramatic lash batting performance before my attention is drawn to the sound of a throat clearing behind us.
I turn, a little surprised by the interruption, only to have the ground beneath my feet shift slightly when my eyes meet none other than Treyton Tyler.
Pro baseball player turned Hollywood star, you’d be hard pressed to find a person on this planet who doesn’t know who this man is. Hell, I’d venture to say many know him intimately, if you’re to believe what you read in the tabloids.
Sarah squeals, clasping her hands together as she eagerly slips away from her husband, toward the famous playboy who probably has as many STDs as he does Championship trophies and Oscars. So much talent wrapped up in one underserving douchebag.
Sigh… Some people have all the luck.
“Treyton Tyler, I’m such a huge fan.” Sarah grabs his hand and begins shaking it vigorously. Rather than seeming annoyed like I expect him to, a slow smile creeps across his handsome face. And boy what a face it is. What an everythingheis.
Tall, muscular, sharp features, eyes so blue they’re almost translucent. Jaw covered in a dusting of dirty blond hair. Matching messy locks pushed haphazardly away from his face, giving him that just rolled out of bed vibe. And don’t even get me started on those cheekbones.
I bite down on my bottom lip and take a deep inhale through my nose.
Yes, he’s gorgeous.
Yes, every woman on the planet would probably jump into bed with him, and most men too.
Yes, seeing him up close is a little staggering.
But it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.
In fact, I’ve worked with dozens of celebrities over the years. Even before I started working at the agency, my mom would take me to open houses and showings with her. I remember when I was ten I nearly peed my pants when my mom showed a house to Brian from The Backstreet Boys. Everyone after that paled in comparison.
Or at least they did…
I give myself a mental bitch slap and refocus right as Treyton’s eyes dart to mine.
“You Clarke?” He hitches a brow, the rough edges of his voice making my skin pepper with goosebumps. Though he phrases it as a question, something tells me he already knows the answer.
“That’s me.” My rehearsed smile falls into place.
It may take me a moment to get over the shock of seeing someone so obviously attractive, but on the outside you’d never know that I’d given the person a second thought.
First rule of selling houses in a place like Los Angeles, never let them see that they’ve affected you. That’s how my dad built this agency from the ground up. He knew how to play the game. And in turn, he taught me and my mother how to play as well. Unfortunately for him, my mother was never much for rules.
“Would you mind showing these people out ofmyhouse?”
“Yourhouse?” I question, fighting to keep my tone even and composed. “You don’t own this house,” I needlessly point out.
“No?” He chuckles deep within his chest, the husky sound as irritating as it is appealing. “Well, I guess we should fix that then.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Now,” he turns back to Sarah and her husband, John, “if you don’t mind…” He gestures toward the door.
“Now hang on…” I start to interject.
“Please?” he offers, his gaze firmly locked on my potential clients. Clients that will likely never work with me again after this.
“Of course.” John is the first to speak, once again looping his arm through Sarah’s. “Sarah,” he instructs when she still hasn’t moved. I’m having a hard time deciphering if she’s appalled or simply star struck. Though if I had to guess, I would say the latter.
