Chapter Fourteen Charlotte
Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte
My vision is blurred, and I’m crying in earnest by the time I reach my office, but thankfully, Imani doesn’t follow me out of the meeting. Instead, the moment we left the conference room, she veered right toward Lucifer, fast on his heels. Likely following him as they decide to fire me.
As if today can get any worse.
As soon as I hear the click of my office door shutting behind me, I collapse against it, sobbing uncontrollably. If anyone comes to the other side, they’ll definitely hear me, but I can’t stop myself from caving into the emotions ripping through me like a tidal wave, even though I managed to hold it together during the meeting.
I hate him.
I hate him so much I can hardly stand it. So much I feel it vibrating through me.
I stay like that for a long time, crying and furious until I don’t have any tears left. My mascara is smeared all over my face, and some of it has even gotten onto my hands. I’ll have to clean myself up if I expect to hide what I’m feeling from Imani. Not that she could possibly understand what this means for me.
I knew coming here wasn’t a wise decision, that working for the devil wouldn’t be the best choice, but it was also the one place I knew my father wouldn’t follow me. The one place he wouldn’t try to hunt me down and drag me back to that godforsaken hellhole of a house where he left me. I never intended for this company, this job, to be my permanent home. Working for the devil is hardly a lifelong goal for someone raised like me.
But I’d also hoped that maybe I could build something meaningful for myself here, in the city. At least temporarily. That I’d finally find some acceptance here.
A home.
The idea that he’s taken that from me before I’ve even fully been given a chance to prove myself settles into me, shifting my emotions from hurt to rage. My hands clench into fists.
He used me.
Fucked me over. All to play his own twisted game.
I don’t know how I ever expected anything less.
I can’t begin to understand what he had to gain from following me to Az’s club last night, but I know there must have been something in it for him.
Something beyond helping me.
At the thought of that word, I scowl, my anger heightening. So much, that before I can fully think it through, I cross my office over to my desk and drop into the seat. I move the mouse to wake my company iMac up, typing in my password to illuminate the home screen. I pull up a blank Word doc, my fingers dancing over the keys.
Journaling has always been cathartic for me.
Before my father discovered my diary and took it away, at least. Only after he’d read every page, violated my privacy, just like he violated everything when it came to me. He burned it shortly thereafter. In one of our church’s outdoor fire pits. It’s only now that I’m safely away from him and in weekly therapy that I’ve started to reclaim the practice.
I start typing, the words flowing out of me like a torrent, a release. The feeling of letting all my hatred out is so cathartic that I channel all my rage into it, every cruel thought, every hateful word I wish I could say to him, though I don’t know exactly who I’m writing to.
There’s too many of them. The men who’ve hurt me.
Lucifer is only one of several.
But I focus all my fury on him, toward what he did to me in that meeting.
I don’t know how long I sit there or how many minutes tick by on the clock as my fingers blaze across the keys. All I know is that as I finish typing the last sentence, I feel my anger release like a physical weight from my shoulders, like I’ve exorcised whatever hateful demon possessed me. I glance over the press release I’ve created. It’s vicious and furious and uncharacteristically damning of Lucifer and his love life, or his lack thereof, but I have no intention of ever sending it.
No, this is solely for me.
Satisfied, I lean back in my seat, scrolling through the work I’ve done. I’m just about to exit the document and hit delete, when suddenly the door flies open, and Imani’s in my office. I minimize the document onto the task bar without thinking.
She takes one look at me, shaking her head like she’s unsurprised by what she sees.
I swipe at my smeared makeup, but it’s too late. She’s already seen the damage.
“Grab your bag,” she says. “We’re going to lunch, then you’re taking the rest of the day off.”
I don’t bother to argue with her. Without standing, I grab my purse from where I stored it on the shelf behind me as she passes a monogrammed handkerchief to me.
I swipe my eyes with it, leaving the pink surface dirty. “Thank you,” I say.
She doesn’t look at me. “Don’t thank me. I’ve been cleaning up his messes for a long time.” She gives me a meaningful look then, and I don’t know how she knows, or if she’s aware of the specifics, but still, embarrassment fills me.
Which means I must not be the first, nor am I likely the last.
My stomach sours at the thought.
I glance down at the floor. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve disappointed you and—”
“Don’t even start with that nonsense,” she says. “This isn’t a usual company. I knew that when I chose to work here. But listen to me, Charlotte, because I’ll only say this once, you hear me?” She gives me a look like I better pay attention if I know what’s good for me. “You don’t want to get caught up with Lucifer. I’ve been cleaning up after him for over a decade. Trust me.”
It’s the most damning thing I’ve heard her say about him, and I’m not certain how to react to it. “What am I supposed to do?” I pass the handkerchief back to her, and she tucks it away in her leather Fendi before turning toward me.
“Keep your head down and keep working, but remember this is no place for you.”
My stomach churns harder. “Are you firing me?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No, I’m not foolish enough to shoot myself in the foot like that. This is a bump in the road, a big bump, but you’re still a smart girl, all things considered. I know the kind of background you came from.”
I open my mouth to ask how she could possibly know, but the look she gives me isn’t one of understanding, it’s one of intimate knowledge. Imani has her own demons, though she’s not about to bare them to me. “I’m the head of PR. You didn’t think I’d do my own digging?”
I’m not surprised she knows my secrets. Just embarrassed.
“I ... never expected anything less.”
Not even Jax knows the full extent of everything that led me here.
Not entirely.
“Good, then we’re on the same page.” She straightens, gripping the strap of that gorgeous Fendi. “Come have lunch with me, and we’ll talk about what you’ll do after you finish working for me. Consider it a favor. Career woman to career woman.”
After you finish working for me.
Meaning, she’s going to help me pivot to something I’m better suited for.
Something that’s not here.
This is only temporary, I remind myself. That’s all it was ever supposed to be. A leg up. Lucifer hasn’t changed that.
“Thank you.” I sniffle, finally standing. “Though honestly, I don’t understand why you’re doing this for me.”
Imani sighs a little, like I’m still being naive. “I’ve been around long enough that I’d rather spend my time building other women up than shooting them down.” She gestures to her dark skin. “There’s no love for women who look like me in this industry, and I’m not about to use the bit of power I’ve gained against somebody. Poor choices aside. I intend to pay it forward, at every opportunity.”
“Thank you,” I mutter again. It’s all I seem to be able to say. “I want to do my best to make you proud.”
She scoffs, walking toward the office door with the expectation I’ll follow. “Girl, it doesn’t matter what I think. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, so long as you’re able to look at yourself in the mirror each morning. That’s what working here’s taught me.”
I nod, understanding. After the past twenty-four hours, I’m certain that working here means Imani has seen a few things that would make others’ souls curl, but she handles it gracefully, wearing all her strengths and her flaws like they’re precious jewelry.
So I follow her lead.
Because that kind of confidence is all I’ve ever really wanted for myself.
By the time Imani and I finish with lunch, and I manage to catch the train home, it’s already early evening. I key into the apartment, dropping my bag onto the floor as I close the door behind me. Jax stands in our little makeshift kitchen that’s really no more than a small stove, a barely-larger-than-mini refrigerator, and a sink.
Counter space is a luxury neither of us can afford currently.
It only takes one look for her to know something’s wrong.
We’ve both been dealt a really shitty hand in the past twenty-four hours, but still, she catches me. Before I can even tell her what happened, she hugs me, gripping me tight as I sob into her shoulder. I’d thought I’d gotten out all my tears back in my office, but clearly, I was wrong. She leads me over to our secondhand love seat, and we sink down onto the cushions beside each other. I rest my head on her shoulder as we both tell each other everything.
The events of last night. The initial meeting with Lucifer.
The details of her gig with Az. All of it.
Fuck the NDA. This is what I need. A friend who accepts me unconditionally.
It’s no less than what I’d do for her, and I know Jax would never hurt me. She knows how important this job is to me.
I managed to squirrel away a little money before I escaped my old life, but Manhattan burned through that nest egg quickly. The high price tags here are real, and I learned that fast. I only have enough to see myself through another month, maybe two, if I manage it properly, and that’s with Jax splitting the rent.
I need this job.
The fact that I got picked for it in the first place is nothing short of a miracle, considering the limited experience on my résumé, which means I have no choice but to see this through. Long enough to have the experience needed to pivot easily.
Exactly like Imani suggested at our lunch today.
“So, what are you going to do?” Jax whispers to me once my tears have dried.
“Exactly what Imani said. Keep my head down until I’ve gained enough experience. I can’t go anywhere else right now without taking a major pay cut.”
That’s another reason I need this job. If there’s one thing I can say for Lucifer, it’s that he pays his employees extremely well. Above standard market rate, even in NYC. It won’t be easy to find another base-level position in PR that pays what he’s paying me, though I’ve yet to see my first paycheck. But Imani assures me that given some time, and with her recommendation, it’ll be easy. I just need to survive where I’m at long enough for her to be able to recommend me to another company.
“And what about you?” I say, easing off Jax’s shoulder to look at her. “How are you doing?”
“Better. All things considered. A little queasy, but mainly from anxiety. I don’t know who could’ve put that in my drink, and if you and Lucifer hadn’t found me ...” Her voice trails off and she shudders. “That’s something I don’t want to consider.”
“Apparently you were taken care of, though, considering Ian had already called the ambulance.” I nudge her, giving her a small smile.
“True.” She nods. “That’s one good thing that could come out of this. You and him, I mean.” She bumps my shoulder playfully.
I roll my eyes. “He’s not for me. Besides aren’t you interested?”
Jax tends to stay single, happily, but deep down, I think she’s just keeping her options open as she searches for Mr. Right. A nice guy like Ian could be that for her. She shakes her head at me. “Nah, he’s clearly more into you than he is me. Plus, bartenders aren’t my thing. Been there, done that.” She waves a hand, referring to her most recent ex.
“His loss. You’re clearly way hotter than me.” I wink.
Jax grins. We both know it’s true, but she doesn’t say anything.
Quiet settles between us, the distant sounds of the restaurant below our feet carrying. The city is noisier than I’d ever expected it’d be, but oddly, it’s almost comforting. Like a reminder that for all our faults, we’re not alone. There’s solace in being one of many.
“I think I’m done with men for a while,” I say.
She grins. “You’re switching to women, you mean?” She teases a smile out of me.
“No, not that there’s anything wrong with that.” I feel a constant need to be clear about my stance on these things, considering my ultrareligious family. “I just mean this little ... incident with Lucifer taught me my lesson is all.”
“About getting involved with your boss , or the devil, not men,” she corrects me. “Ian would be a more even playing field, trust me. Besides, you know I say the same thing every time a guy hurts me.” From the way she looks at me, she’s still convinced all this relationship stuff would be easier if I got past all the hang-ups that are stopping me. She’s not wrong exactly.
I just don’t know if casual sex is the answer.
She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Just don’t write anything off before it can begin, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree.
“Now, you promised you’d watch the first season of Bridgerton with me. Prepare to feast your eyes on this beauty.” She unfolds her laptop, gesturing to the handsome actor on the screen.
I smile, settling in as Jax breaks out her new set of Oracle cards to show me while we watch the show, allowing myself to forget all the growing problems around me.