Chapter Sixteen Charlotte
Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte
Half a week goes by before I hear anything, leaving me with nothing to do but sulk. Not even Jax or the endless pints of Ben & Jerry’s she supplies can console me. Instead, I hole up in our apartment and refuse to get out of my pajamas for several days. I avoid all news sources, mainly my phone, as I watch several old seasons of Downton Abbey .
I’m four days in and still wearing the same pajamas from the day before—a pair of heart-patterned Walmart sweatpants and a worn “Keep Calm and Follow Christ” T-shirt from several youth retreats ago—when suddenly there’s a knock at the door.
I don’t look to see who it is before I answer.
It isn’t him, anyway.
Instead, it’s a man I’ve seen by his side in the tabloids countless times. Astaroth. Lucifer’s bodyguard. Or close to it.
He takes one look at my pajamas, the bird’s nest that’s my hair, and my red puffy eyes before he wrinkles his nose. “Get dressed.”
I slam the door in his face.
It’s petty and pointless, and it’s not him I’m angry with, but for the first time in days, it feels good to aim my rage at someone other than myself.
I do as I’m told, though it takes me a while to get ready. Not because I’m doing anything special to make myself look good for Lucifer, but because I haven’t showered in two days, and the knots in my hair show it.
By the time I’m fully clothed and feeling almost human, it’s nearly an hour later and somehow, Astaroth has managed to let himself into our apartment. I don’t bother to ask how he got inside. It doesn’t matter, really.
There isn’t a place in this city Lucifer doesn’t own.
Nowhere is outside his reach.
For that reason, trying to run is useless. I know because I spent the better part of two days seriously considering it. But wherever I go, he’d find me, and that’s to say nothing of all the reasons I chose to stay. Better to get this over with.
“I’m ready.” I step out of the room Jax and I share.
Astaroth looks up from his phone, giving me a quick once-over, though he doesn’t say anything. The cut-off jean shorts and relaxed T-shirt I’m wearing paired with Jax’s Converse and a cheap pair of sunglasses from the corner bodega aren’t exactly the height of New York City fashion, but he never specified there was a dress code.
“Are we going or not?” I gesture toward the door.
Astaroth grumbles before he silently leads me out of the apartment, pausing for me to lock the deadbolt. Not that it matters, clearly. I follow him down the narrow, aging flight of stairs. Several of the steps leading to our apartment are crooked and droopy, a throwback to this neighborhood’s old tenement days, but he navigates the hazard easily.
Outside, the sun shines overhead in mockery. I squint despite my sunglasses, my eyes slowly adjusting.
Lucifer’s Town Car waits for us.
Astaroth slides into the passenger seat beside the driver with a grumbled “Get in.”
I follow his directions, climbing into the back then relaxing into the plush leather seats. As we drive, a divider separates Lucifer’s driver and Astaroth from me, which I’m grateful for. With early morning traffic, it takes us a while to make our way to midtown. I stare out the car’s tinted windows, still refusing to look at my phone.
The number of red notifications on the home screen is wild, but I want to live in blissful ignorance for as long as I can, and though I’ve had several days for the idea to sink in, I’m still not ready for the reality of playing Lucifer’s fiancée. Not just yet.
When we finally reach the Madison Avenue building, Dagon hops out, scanning the street. He opens my door and ushers me inside like I’m some sought-after celebrity, though there’s no paparazzi there to greet me.
Yet.
Astaroth joins me in the elevator and inserts a key into the panel, revealing a hidden button. He presses it, and then we’re headed skyward. When we reach the top floor, he gestures for me to step into the open foyer beyond. The moment I do, the elevator doors slam shut behind me, sealing him away without even a halfhearted goodbye.
So much for being friendsies.
“Dick,” I mutter under my breath, though I doubt he’d care what I think.
I get the impression that, like Lucifer, Astaroth and Dagon aren’t exactly human, though if they aren’t fallen angels, what are they?
I push the thought aside, not allowing myself to linger on it.
The idea is too much. Almost as much as me standing outside of Lucifer’s penthouse prepared to play his blushing bride. Ten years ago, only congregations like my father’s ever really believed we had to fear the influence of the devil. The rest of us thought we knew better. If only we could have known what was in store for us.
Me included.
A closed door waits on the far side of the foyer, flanked by a table with a decorative art bowl and some potted plants. I sigh and head toward the door, not pausing to knock before I try the handle. To my surprise, it opens, allowing me to slip inside.
When the door falls closed behind me, it echoes so loudly that it feels like I’ve stepped into another world. One where money is no object, bills never go unpaid, and luxury isn’t a privilege that people like me can’t afford, but the only true standard of living. My eyes widen as I slowly make my way into a second foyer, one even larger and more open than the first. It has a sleek separate elevator of its own, and I glance inside, gaping a little as I read the numbered buttons on the control panel. Lucifer’s penthouse spans five floors.
Holy shit.
Luxury doesn’t begin to cover it.
I blow out a long breath as I make my way past the elevator and farther into the space. The ceilings are every bit of twenty-five feet high, and this one room is likely worth more than what most people would earn in ten lifetimes. Easily. I glance around, my breath stopping short as I take in the near-360-degree view of midtown. I can hardly bring myself to breathe, and yet something about it feels like a waste to me.
Or maybe it’s who it’s wasted on.
“What do you think?” Lucifer’s voice comes from behind me, sending a sudden shiver down my spine.
“Of your apartment?” I lift a brow as I take in the opulent view. “Is that what you’d call it?”
“You wouldn’t?”
I open my mouth a little, trying to find something insulting to say. Anything to hurt him the way he’s hurt me, but the penthouse is breathtaking. A beautiful homage to modern art and architecture. It sounds ridiculous, but even being in a space like this feels like a blessing, and yet I can’t bring myself to say any of those things.
Not after what he’s done to me.
“Seems like it’d get awfully lonely for one person.” I shrug.
It’s both truth and lie.
I’d trade my apartment for this in a heartbeat, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
There’s no glamour in poverty.
“The claws are already out, I see.” Lucifer crosses the room toward me until he stands so close I’m forced to look up at him. “Don’t worry, darling. I find a little pain with my pleasure to be thrilling.” His gaze brushes over me, and it doesn’t matter that I’m fully clothed, I feel as bared as I did when I nearly came all over his lap.
Damn him.
My eyes narrow. “Did you ask me here just to toy with me or do you actually have something valuable to say?”
“Ouch.” He grins, circling me like a tiger would its prey. “Tsk tsk, Charlotte. You wound me.” He places a mocking hand on his heart.
“What do you want, Lucifer?” I take off my sunglasses and place them on top of my head. “I didn’t come here to play.”
“Really?” His gaze deliberately falls to my lips, mimicking how I’ve looked at his a dozen times before. “I would have thought otherwise.”
I flush instantly. Having cool undertones sucks.
“It was a mistake.” I tear my gaze away. “The other night, I mean. The club’s atmosphere got the better of me. That’s all.”
“Of course. The atmosphere. Naturally.”
He steps away, and the breathing room it gives me is a welcome relief as he crosses to one of the windows overlooking the city.
He’s quiet for a long beat, watching the cars and passersby. I brace myself, waiting for the other shoe to finally drop as he tells me exactly why he summoned me here, but then he catches me off guard, and says, “Would you like a tour?”
I blink.
At first, I think, What harm could it do? But then I pause. I learned my lesson the last time.
There is nothing harmless about Lucifer.
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, come now, Charlotte. I don’t bite.” He grins wickedly. “Not hard, at least.”
I glance away, trying to hide how his attention still affects me, but my eyes soon find their way to him again.
He smirks slightly.
Stupid, stupid hormones.
“Fine,” I relent. “Lead the way.”
The genuine smile he gives me in response is so staggering that for a moment, my anger falters, and I can’t feel the floor beneath me.
Is this what it’s like to be in his good graces? To earn his praise?
My cheeks burn crimson.
You’re not interested in him. Remember? Not anymore, I remind myself.
But with his eyes on me like this, it feels as if the whole universe hinges on his next breath, like I alone command his attention, and the power in that is so intoxicating, I feel my vision spin. Exactly like when I straddled his lap.
“Whatever you’re doing, stop it,” I say.
Lucifer doesn’t answer me.
Instead, he simply grins before turning away and releasing me.
The shift in his focus hits me like a cold shock, and it strikes me then that I’d do anything to feel that way again. How I felt in the club. In his lap.
It’s an addiction, whatever this tension is between us, one I’m powerless to fight, and I’m not certain which is more dangerous, his anger or his approval. Or which I crave more.
But I won’t allow him to toy with me. Not if I can help it.
“Shall we?” He gestures to the open penthouse.
Tentatively, I follow his lead as we explore the first floor. He guides me to an open dining and living room with lush modern decor that looks more like art than furniture. The far wall is lined with a thin decorative fireplace and a banquet table that seats at least twenty. The fireplace isn’t lit currently, not in this summer heat.
A grand piano sits in the adjacent corner near the wall. A Steinway & Sons. Its black surface is so flawless I’d guess it’s rarely, if ever, played. A shame, if you ask me.
I spent a lot of time singing in my church’s choir, and music is one of the few parts of my childhood that never hurt me.
“Do you play?” I nod to the piano.
“Naturally.” Lucifer smirks a little. “Only the devil’s music, of course.”
He escorts me up a set of glass stairs to a second floor that’s nearly as stunning as the first, with a commercial-size kitchen large enough to feed a small army, a private wine cellar twice the size of my apartment, and a patio lined with ornamental cherry blossoms that overlooks the city. We continue mostly in silence, and it’s oddly ... comfortable being alone in the quiet with him, Lucifer occasionally commenting about the architecture or the penthouse’s features as each additional floor reveals new luxuries and amenities so extravagant they leave me speechless.
All told, there are two in-ground pools (one indoor and one rooftop), eleven bedrooms, fourteen bathrooms, a billiards room, several offices, a multistory home library, and an in-home gym that could only be described as a private recreational facility. Each of the closets alone is nearly the size of my bedroom.
It’s so ... much that I can hardly bring myself to say anything.
“So ...,” Lucifer says as we approach the top floor. “What do you think?”
I shrug. “It’s missing an in-home spa, but otherwise, it’s okay, I guess.”
Lucifer snorts, and for once I think I’ve actually amused him. “Quite the comedienne now, aren’t you, Charlotte?”
I open my mouth to fire off some witty comeback, but suddenly, his phone rings, and I almost jump out of my skin.
“If you’ll excuse me.” He removes his phone from his suit coat pocket and presses it to his ear. “Yes?”
He steps away then, leaving me alone.
The moment he’s fully out of sight, I sink against the nearest wall, my legs weak and my jaw slack as I silently let out all the expletives I’ve been holding back for the past half hour. Prior to coming here, I don’t think I could have imagined this level of wealth, and I grew up in a church that was basically Six Flags Over Jesus.
It both thrills and disgusts me, and yet I still haven’t seen even a glimpse of exactly what I’d hoped to see on this little tour.
The dark truth behind the facade. The man behind the mask.
At first glance, Lucifer is nothing more than a decadently rich billionaire, an A-list celebrity businessman, separate but fundamentally no different from the rest of us.
I don’t believe that for a second.
I stand there for a few moments, trying and failing to listen in on his conversation. Around the corner, I can hear his muffled voice deep in discussion. His tone strengthens as he commands whatever poor soul happens to be on the other end of the line. I glance around, and my eyes fall to a single darkened hallway that we haven’t explored.
Slowly, I step toward it, glancing over my shoulder, afraid he might catch me, but he told me I could explore. So where’s the harm in it?
Steeling my confidence, I stroll toward the hall, surprised when no automated lights flick on overhead. I tiptoe toward the cracked door that waits at the end. A soft yellow glow escapes around the frame’s edges, almost like he left it this way on purpose. Like he’s daring me to go in.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
I place my hand on the door handle, hesitating only for a moment before curiosity gets the better of me, and I step inside.
My heart races as I take in the room before me.
I’ve never seen anything like it, and yet it doesn’t take a genius to know that this is where the real Lucifer spends his days.
Lucifer’s playroom boasts every kind of kinky toy and contraption I could imagine, not that I’ve spent much time dwelling on it. But now, as I glance around the room, I picture every sinful detail, every wicked deed. There are several structures and swings that I’m not sure how you would use, but with the rest, it’s easy enough to guess.
Hooks filled with kink paraphernalia line the wall, everything from soft, downy feathers to handcuffs, chains, riding crops, whips. A plush armchair sits on a dais in the middle of the room, its black leather making it look like a throne fit for a king.
Or someone with all the power of a god.
“Do you like it?” Lucifer’s voice wraps around me, startling me a little.
“It’s ... comprehensive,” I say, struggling to find the right words.
I scan the room, trying hard not to imagine all the things he’s done here. Things he might do to me if I asked him. I flush. “If you’re into this sort of thing, that is.”
Which I’m not, I remind myself ...
Am I?
He tsk-tsks, like he’s disappointed in me. “Now, now, Charlotte. There’s no kink shaming here.”
He follows my gaze to the throne in the center of the room before crossing the space to stand beside it. “The devil’s chair.” His hands are casually tucked in his suit coat pockets as he glances between me and the dais, a devious grin on his face, as if I’ve revealed something by allowing my eyes to linger there. “Go on, then.” He nods toward it. “Take your place.”
Before I can change my mind, I step forward, and the next thing I know, Lucifer’s hand is in mine, the energy of his touch pulsing through me as he guides me up and onto the dais.
I settle into his chair eagerly.
I have a clear view of the whole room from here, his dark, sinful kingdom lying at my feet.
“How do you feel, Charlotte?” His words are a hushed, tempting whisper. A literal devil on my shoulder, but he doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t have to.
His otherness does it for him. It wraps around me, hot and suffocating until my breath becomes shallow, needy.
“I feel ...” The words tumble from my lips, fully within my control, and yet ... not. Like he’s unleashed some dark part of me I never knew existed. “I feel powerful.” My hands grip the chair’s plush arms as my gaze darts to his.
There’s a fire in Lucifer’s eyes, that hint of amber I so rarely see.
But it’s his words that taunt me, whispering in my ear and tempting me further into his dark spell. “And what will you do with that power, little dove?”
“I’ll use it,” I say.
I don’t even hesitate.
“Naturally.” He grins like that’s exactly the answer he wanted from me, but I’m too caught up in the rush of power consuming me to truly recognize that he’s the one in control. “Go on then, take it,” he whispers. “Take what’s yours.”
My eyes snap to his, that darkness inside me strengthening.
“On your knees,” I command, lifting my chin toward him.
Something dark flashes in his expression then, something like pleasure.
Lucifer grins wickedly. “With pleasure, my queen.”
He drops to his knees before me, one of his hands coming to rest on the smooth skin of my calf. The moment his skin touches mine, I turn molten. My legs fall open from where I’d crossed them at the knee until I’m spread wide. One of his hands grips the inside of my thigh, hard enough to leave bruises, but the bite of pain beneath the pleasure thrills me.
“What shall I do now, Miss Bellefleur?” His words take on a dangerous edge, a subtle intoxicating hiss. He dips his head lower, and even through the material of my shorts, I feel the heat of his mouth on me. “What would you do with me?”
The question seems to hum inside me, rattling in my skull, but it’s the reminder of what I really am to him that brings me back to myself.
Miss Bellefleur.
I’m no more than a paid employee.
“Nothing.” I sneer.
Abruptly, I try to snap my legs closed, but the width of his shoulders stops me.
Casting me a vicious smirk, Lucifer slowly moves to stand, his hand on my thigh brushing dangerously close to my center, so close I can’t help but shiver.
I lean toward him, drawn to his touch. Even with the spell broken, the energy between us is magnetic, and the movement isn’t lost. To him or me.
And I hate myself for it.
“You’re a dangerous little creature, aren’t you?”
At his full height, we’re nearly eye level now as he looks at me.
I lift my chin. “I scratch and bite.”
“You’ll crawl and beg, too, by the time I’m through with you.” He grips my chin roughly as he takes in my flushed skin, the shallow rise and fall of my chest. “As soon as I get inside that pretty little head of yours.”
My jaw tightens, and though I’m not certain what he means, I vow right then and there that I won’t give him the satisfaction.
No matter how he tempts me.
“Let me go, Lucifer. This wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Pity.” Lucifer watches me for a beat, his eyes never leaving mine, before he finally steps away, allowing me the space I need to scurry down from the dais.
But as I follow him out of the playroom and back to the main floor, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder, letting my gaze linger on his chair momentarily, remembering how powerful I felt there. And for some dark reason, I can’t help but think that’s exactly what he wanted to show me.