Chapter Twelve Charlotte
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte
I wake to the sound of steady beeping, the unnatural noise echoing in my ear. The astringent scent of antiseptic fills my nose, and it doesn’t take long for me to recognize I’m still in the hospital. Jax. My eyes snap open. Jax isn’t asleep as I left her. She’s awake. Finally.
“Hey,” she mutters.
“Hey.” I sit up. “How are you feeling?”
The blue-and-black strands of her hair are messy, and her light-brown skin is a little paler than normal. Her eye makeup from last night is obviously smudged from sleep, but otherwise, she looks a lot like she normally does after a night of hard partying.
Save for the hospital gown.
“Like a freight train hit me,” she says, “but I’m okay. I think.”
“Good. Okay is good. Lucifer helped me find you, and we were able to get you before—”
“I know,” she says, smiling appreciatively. “Ian told me.”
I follow her gaze near the door where I see the bartender from Az’s club waiting, only this time he’s dressed in plain clothes, jeans and a concert tee that look way more this century. He’s around our age, midtwenties, with a handsome, easy smile and warm brown eyes that likely earn him a lot of tips.
“Hi.” He lifts a hand toward me.
I frown. “Clearly you don’t know how to listen to warnings.”
The moment the words fall from my lips, it surprises even me how much I sound like Lucifer. Already he’s dug his claws into me.
Ian’s eyes widen, and whatever he sees in my expression then, I can tell it’s not anything close to what he expected from me, but slowly, he lifts his hands in surrender once more. “Like I said, it wasn’t how it looked. I’m the one who called the ambulance. I was just checking her pulse, though I do feel guilty since I was the one who got her the gig.” He shrugs. “Sorry about that. I have a soft spot for pretty girls, so sue me.” He shifts his gaze to Jax and winks.
“It’s true,” she says, making me feel instant relief. “Ian and I met a few days ago, and he pitched me doing a one-time open reading for the guests at Az’s club.”
I glance between them then, confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jax makes an apologetic expression. “I wasn’t sure if it was going to pan out, and then I was worried it was going to cause a problem, considering ...”
Considering I work for Lucifer now.
That goes without saying.
I nod, straightening where I sit in the visitor’s chair beside her bed. “I wish you’d told me, but I get why you didn’t.”
It would have caused me to worry, especially after that damn meet—
My eyes widen. Oh no. The meeting.
I glance at the clock on the wall. Already, it’s nearly nine thirty.
“Shit,” I swear.
Jax and Ian both look toward me.
“What’s wrong?” Jax asks.
I glance at my phone. “I have to be in that meeting in an hour, the one Imani and I have been working toward, and I haven’t even—”
“Go,” Jax says, waving me on. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I hate having to abandon her so quickly, but I have been at the hospital with her all night.
She nods before Ian says, “She’s safe with me. Promise. I’ll get her home.”
I study him and, for a moment, I feel a bit guilty about how I treated him, considering he called the ambulance and all. “I’m sorry I was rude at first. I was just—”
He shakes his head at me. “Trying to protect your friend,” he finishes. “I get it. You don’t need to apologize. I’d do the same.”
I nod, glad we’ve reached an understanding.
“But if you’re looking to repay me ...” He casts me a teasing grin. “Letting Jax give me your number couldn’t hurt.”
“Ian!” Jax shrieks, throwing her hospital pillow at him.
It misses and lands on the floor near his feet.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” Ian lifts his hands again. “Okay, only a little.” He makes a pinching gesture with his fingers. “Unless you and Lucifer are really ...”
“We’re not,” I say, shutting that idea down fast. “Though if you could not tell Azmodeus ...”
He smiles knowingly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Secret?” Jax’s jaw is nearly on the floor, and her eyes are sparkling like she wants me to spill all the tea and she wants it spilled now. Or, preferably, yesterday.
“I’ll tell you later,” I say. “Promise.” I glance at my phone once more, then back to her.
I wet my lips. I feel awful leaving her, and I still wonder if she knows who may have spiked her drink, but there’s no time to discuss that now.
“Later,” she says, reading my expression.
I need to get to that meeting.
“Go. Go.” She waves at me.
As I leave, Ian casts me one last grin, his smile the perfect mix of friendly and flirty. I return the look, though in truth, I’m too focused on the meeting to really process what I’m doing. If I play this right, I’m supposed to please my boss.
Just like every delicious thing we did last night.
I’m nearly ten minutes late when I finally stumble into the conference room and already, I can tell I’m screwed. Lucifer sits at the head of the table, his expression grim and his eyes filled with a cold fury I hadn’t anticipated. Quietly, I try to slip into the back, unnoticed, as I take my seat next to Imani.
Someone else is in the middle of presenting, but still Lucifer’s gaze snaps toward me. “You’re late,” he says, interrupting the presentation and causing all eyes to turn in my direction.
Those two words hold more meaning than I expected.
As if he were anticipating me. And he’s pissed that I’m late.
“I barely missed the train and had to wait for the next one.” I glance between him and Imani, who sits to my right.
She lifts a brow at me, but I shrug innocently.
The presentation resumes then, though the other employees’ curious glances still dart toward me. I keep my expression neutral, try to play it off, but Lucifer’s frustration flusters me, even as the regular flow of the meeting continues. I truly thought I could do as he said, forget what happened between us last night, as unnatural as that would be for me, but every time I deliberately look away so my eyes don’t meet his, all I can do is imagine his hands on me, the way they tangled in my hair as his lips and tongue plundered mine like he was a thief.
The best kind of marauder.
Though it’s not until that moment that I realize exactly what it is he’s stolen from me.
My pride. The confidence that’d slowly begun to build in me.
Whether I like it or not, Lucifer owns that part of me now.
And I gave it to him willingly.
I sit quietly in my seat, waiting for the remaining presentations to finish. With each passing minute, my initial belief in myself wavers, but I’ll be damned if I allow him to fluster me. To ruin this. I worked hard on this presentation. To impress him. To impress Imani.
I won’t let one stupid kiss destroy it for me.
I may have been a willing participant, but that doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer owes me.
He may not see it that way. Hell, he may not even be grateful, but regardless of what he thinks, I single-handedly saved him from yet another blow to his reputation last night. This one likely even more damaging than the first. Not to mention I’ve worked tirelessly with Imani to reroute the initial narrative that caused all of this.
“Charlotte,” Imani says from beside me, drawing me from my thoughts.
I blink, coming back to myself. All eyes in the room are on me.
“It’s your time to shine.” Imani gives me an encouraging smile, but her voice has an edge to it that is distinctly telling me: do not fuck this up .
“I’m ready.” I plaster on my best Sunday-morning-greeting face. Tablet in hand, I make my way to the front of the conference room, where Lucifer waits at the head of the executive table.
I set up my iPad on it, syncing the Bluetooth connection with the smartboard, but with each movement, I can feel Lucifer’s gaze on me, his otherness washing over me until I’m suddenly fumbling to get my iPad to AirDrop my presentation. Last night when I was staring down Azmodeus, something about Lucifer’s otherness made me feel protected, safe even. Now, it simply makes me feel exposed, vulnerable. Like all my thoughts are on display, which if what he said is true, they are. But I won’t let him get under my skin.
This is my chance to prove that I belong here.
That I deserve this amazing opportunity Imani gave me.
“Charlotte’s taking the lead on this, but she’s got my stamp of approval,” Imani says, smiling like she’s both proud and encouraging me. “Take it away, Charlotte.”
I nod, steeling myself as I turn toward Lucifer. I won’t pretend like there’s anyone else I’m addressing in this meeting. Everyone here knows that what Lucifer says goes. Maybe it’ll appeal to his vanity, but that’s not why I choose to do it. It’s not because I fear him either.
He’s watching me intently, his chin resting on his fist as he stares at me.
No, I do it because I know people rarely talk to him this way, one on one, as if they aren’t afraid of him, and unlike many, I’m not afraid of him. The worst has already happened to me.
Long before I came here.
I meet his eyes then. Suddenly, everything I’d planned for the presentation abandons me, and it’s just me and him, talking while we’re alone. Like this.
I don’t second-guess myself. I just go with it.
“I know you said you don’t want to lose your anonymity by showing your face to the press,” I say, starting off with acknowledging the elephant in the room. “And you’re not wrong. That is an asset and your choice.”
He leans forward a little, his brow lowering as if that’s obvious, but the fact that I’ve admitted it has intrigued him, at least, or so I think.
“I understand why you wouldn’t want to give that up. Really, I do.” I glance toward Imani then, and she nods, encouraging me. “But it’s my job to convince you why both those things, your anonymity and your debut, can be an asset to the company.” I gesture to the other employees watching us. “Your choice to remain in the background for so long has created a unique opportunity for you.”
I swipe left, cueing my first slide, and whispers spread through the conference room as all six of his siblings’ faces appear on the screen. Red-carpet-worthy headshots of each one of the Originals, save for Lucifer. From the ripple of unease among my coworkers, the slide has the exact effect I intended.
“Your siblings gave away their anonymity the moment they came topside and stepped into the limelight, but you didn’t,” I say. “You knew better than to give away your most valuable asset to the press—yourself—which puts you in a distinctly strategic position.” I swipe left again, the next slide showing a graph breaking down a time-specific analysis of how often Lucifer has appeared in the headlines over the past six months in comparison to his siblings. Even with him refusing photos and video interviews, it’s not even close.
Public interest in him beats out all his siblings combined by a mile.
“None of the other Originals has nearly as much sway with the press as you do because they gave away their most valuable asset, their sense of mystery. That’s exactly what stirs the public’s intrigue, and they traded it for quick and easy fame. But you didn’t.”
I tap the next screen, displaying another infographic. “We know the laws of supply and demand. The scarcity principle. Limit access. Create exclusivity, and the value of something increases exponentially. It’s a model we use all the time in luxury.” My next slide highlights several campaigns Apollyon Inc. has run for their products using the exact same model. Balenciaga. Versace. Ferrari. Among others.
“But what we haven’t considered is that we can apply that same principle to you, Lucifer,” I say, daring to use his first name.
A hush goes over the room, and for a moment, I worry I’ve gone too far, but then I realize Lucifer’s lifted a hand to pause me. “So, what you’re proposing is that the company commodifies me?”
I hesitate.
When he puts it that way, it doesn’t sound as promising as I’d planned, but ...
“Yes,” I say, leaning into it. There’s no point in trying to lie to him. I know he’s a master at it. A true artist in his ability to manipulate. “But you’re already a commodity for this company. That’s why this ... business at The Serpent has been such a threat to the company’s stakes.” I choose my words carefully. “You are the company. Your reputation, your image is the company and your namesake. We just haven’t been using you to your full extent. In fact, we’ve undervalued you, considerably.”
Resuming control, I swipe to the next slide. “We’re not proposing what your siblings do now. We’re suggesting a different way. Think of the opportunity that doing several limited-access campaigns could create. We could pair it with the launch of a new line like the Giovaldi account or a new branch of company philanthropy. It’d be the event of a generation, the first time the public sees the devil’s face. The first time they get an exclusive interview. The press would be falling over themselves to get access to you.”
Just like I was last night.
The thought comes to me out of nowhere, and the moment it does, my eyes fall to Lucifer’s mouth, and recognition quirks his lips.
He leans back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other almost lazily. “There’s just one problem with this plan of yours, Miss—”
It takes me a second to realize he’s prompting me for my name. Like I’m of so little importance to him that he can’t be bothered to keep it in his memory, though I’m certain the move is deliberate. Meant to hurt me.
I flush. “Bellefleur,” I answer tersely.
“Miss Bellefleur,” he says, smirking. “You forgot one key aspect of this little presentation of yours.”
The whole room, the whole world seems to hinge upon his next breath.
“Me,” he breathes.
Panic floods over me.
“For all your vapid flattery, you forgot to ask yourself what benefit there is to me in all this.” Lucifer shrugs dismissively.
Desperately, I swipe forward several slides in an attempt to save face. He’s trying to embarrass me. I can feel it. “I had the finance department run the projections. The company’s profits and stocks would increase exponentially, and the spike in growth would be sustainable. Limiting access over time would mean—”
“You think I truly care about an increase in the company’s stock value?” Lucifer’s eyes narrow at me. “I already have more money than God. Financial promises mean nothing to me.”
“For your pride, then.” My words hold a dangerous bite, but I can’t help it. He’s angered me. “You don’t enjoy being bested by your siblings, letting them damage your reputation in the papers. All that stops if you listen to me, to Imani. If you let us help you.”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
Imani stands as if she’s prepared to defend me, but Lucifer raises a hand, silencing her. “That’s your fatal error, Miss Bellefleur. The assumption that you can be of any use to me.” The way he looks at me then is so flat, so devoid of any emotion, that I can’t imagine how I ever mistook him for anything other than the monster he’s being. “Let me tell you something about being me.” He grips the sides of his chair, leaning toward me.
“Every insult, every wicked deed, every fucked-up thing you could possibly imagine inside that pretty little head of yours and more has been said of me. You humans with your stories and your papers. You can’t hurt me. Every unspeakable thing has already been said about me throughout the course of your short, pathetic history, and the worst part is that it’s true.”
A subtle burn lights in his eyes, and for once I’m not entranced by it. I can see the hellfire there, the pain, the agony, and it stills me.
“Humanity’s ire means nothing to me, Miss Bellefleur. You mean nothing to me, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
My knees go weak, and I feel myself trembling as tears gather in my eyes, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Not without looking away from him, which I won’t.
I refuse to show him exactly how small and vulnerable he’s made me.
“Now, if helping is so important to you, why don’t you head back to the middle of nowhere where you came from, Miss Bellefleur?” he says, driving the final nail in me, with the intimate knowledge I gave him, no less. “Because clearly, you don’t belong in New York City.”
No one moves for a long beat, and to my credit, I manage to keep my chin up.
To not let any tears fall.
I don’t waste my energy giving him a scathing look. I’m too busy trying to stop myself from crying. I won’t let him see how he’s hurt me, but I hope he hears my thoughts loud and clear.
I hate you, I scream.
And despite all I’ve been through, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever truly hated anybody.
And what shocks me the most isn’t that I think it.
It’s that I mean it.
Undoubtedly.