Chapter Seventeen Lucifer
Chapter Seventeen
Lucifer
“Why am I here, Lucifer?”
The elevator deposits us on the bottom floor of the penthouse, and I exit first. “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little agreement, Charlotte.”
“Of course not.” She follows me without prompting.
Already so well trained she doesn’t even notice how readily she obeys me.
My penthouse is still mostly empty, save for the two of us, most of the limited staff I keep having been dismissed for the day hours ago, and considering the little trick I just pulled inside my playroom, she’s acutely aware of it. Her eyes dart around the space as she fights not to wring her hands. As if someone among the staff could save her from me. But I don’t intend to hurt her, at least not physically, and there are far worse ways to break a person.
I’m known for my creativity.
“Then surely you know what’s in store for this evening,” I say.
She seems unaware of the dark turn of my thoughts but, of course, she can’t possibly know how restrained I’m being.
I could have pushed her harder in there, bared her soul and eaten that pretty little pussy she offered me so willingly. But I’m not done toying with her just yet. I enjoy our game of cat and mouse immensely.
“No, actually. I don’t. I haven’t looked at my phone for several days.”
“Sounds like someone’s been neglecting their duties.”
“You don’t pay me to read the gossip magazines for you anymore.”
“You’re right. I pay you for whatever suits me.” I turn toward her then, stopping abruptly as we reach the foyer. “Which is why you have an appointment here with Xzander Malone in”—I check my Patek Philippe watch—“three minutes.”
The penthouse doorbell rings right on cue, and one of my few remaining staff members comes out of the woodwork to open it, allowing a whole team of designers and stylists to flood in.
“Hello, darling.” I exchange cheek kisses and rapid pleasantries in French with Sophie, my personal stylist, as the rest of her and Xzander’s teams file in. Sophie glances in Charlotte’s direction as if she expects me to introduce her, but I wave her off quickly.
The others give us a wide berth the moment they look at me.
“So, this is your plan? To dress me up like I’m some kind of human Barbie doll?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Xzander’s an up-and-coming revelation in the fashion industry. You’ll love him.” I continue to greet each of the staff as they enter. “We’re having cocktails tonight. You’ll need to be dressed for the occasion.”
She scoffs. “Cocktails weren’t part of our agreement.”
I shoot her an amused look. “Oh, Charlotte, our agreement is whatever I choose it to be.”
I’m right, of course, and I watch her eyes narrow in frustration as she realizes it.
So feisty.
Several racks of designer clothes are wheeled past, and her eyes widen a little more with each passing one. I may be richer than God, but no one goes to these kinds of lengths for a simple cocktail hour, not even me, and Charlotte is smart enough to recognize that.
“You took my idea.” Her jaw drops. “The foundation opening.”
Her gaze sweeps over me, taking in my three-piece Armani suit as she puts two and two together. Claude truly outdid himself this time. The fit is even more stunning than usual.
“You’re debuting to the press tonight?”
A pulse of grim frustration courses through me. “Correction: we’re debuting to the press. Do try to keep up.” I look in a nearby mirror, straightening my suit coat and adjusting my cuff links as another one of my staff emerges.
“Shall I have Dagon ready the car, sir?”
I pause for a moment, considering. “I think I’ll take the Aston Martin today, actually.”
I’m feeling a little more reckless than usual.
I glance toward Charlotte.
He nods, quickly retrieving the keys for me.
“And if I don’t play along?”
Charlotte draws my attention toward her again. Her lips are pursed, and she’s giving me that defiant little look she gets that makes me want to bend her over my knee.
My cock stiffens.
Oh, I’m going to enjoy breaking this one immensely.
I lift a brow.
“What happens if I don’t cooperate?” she repeats.
I step into her space, lowering my voice. “I’m happy to file that libel suit now if you’d rather. Just say the word. My lawyers assure me the statute of limitations is up to a year.”
“A year?” Her eyes bulge, making the fucking starburst that encircles her irises even more apparent. “That’s how long you plan to keep up this charade?”
I catch a lock of her hair, stilling her instantly. She’s like soft clay in my palm, so pliable and eager. “No, Charlotte. You’re mine for as long as I need.” I release her, nodding to the attendant, who hands me my sunglasses before I dismiss him.
“Don’t you think it’s fair we agree on an end date?”
I scoff. “I’m the devil. Fair isn’t in my vocabulary.”
She scowls, clearly done playing games with me. “So, you’re just like your Father, then? Keeping people under your thumb with no guarantee of a reward.”
My shoulders stiffen.
“Don’t get cheeky. It doesn’t suit you.” My lips tighten into a thin line. Any mention of my Father instantly puts me in a foul mood. “We’ll end it at the Met Gala.” I brush out the door, heading for the elevator.
I have places to be, and babysitting this little human isn’t on the list.
No matter how tempting she may be.
She pauses momentarily, counting under her breath like she’s calculating the date before she races after me. “The Met Gala takes place the first Monday of May. That’s over nine months from now!”
“Good counting, darling.” I wave a dismissive hand. “I’ll move it to September this year.”
She stops suddenly, blinking. “You’ll ... move it to September?” she repeats slowly.
I shrug. “I’m on the benefit committee.”
It’s a minor inconvenience, really.
“Of course you are.” She buries her face in her hands.
I tilt my head, watching her. I don’t know why it’s this that seems to alert her to the extent of my power, but something about that irks me.
Or perhaps it’s that my little trick in the playroom didn’t work.
Fate hasn’t been favoring me lately.
I press the elevator button, leisurely placing my hands in my pockets as the door opens. I step inside, flashing one last smooth grin at her. “Till this evening, little dove.”
She gapes at me. As if I haven’t just promised to move one of the city’s biggest events of the year on a whim, and for her benefit, no less.
“Where are you going?”
“My brother has a debut present for me.” I smirk.
“And what about our agreement? Don’t you think we should establish some ground rules?” She catches the door and holds it. “In writing.”
I glance at my watch. Already I’m running late, and while there’s not a person in this city who wouldn’t eagerly wait for me, my brother included, I pride myself on being punctual.
“I would think the house rules are abundantly clear.” I lift my sunglasses as I lean into her space, crowding her against the elevator door. My voice drops low as I give her a taste of what she’s clearly wanting. Me.
She softens for me instantly. It’s almost too easy.
“House rules. I tell you what to do. You say ‘yes, sir.’ Are we clear, little dove?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispers, sweet enough it nearly makes me purr.
My cock twitches, even as the corner of my mouth curves.
This human will be the death of me. If I’m not careful.
I pull away, and she shakes her head as if coming out of a haze before she crosses her arms. “You can’t expect me to perform well in front of the press without meeting some basic conditions, Lucifer.”
I lift a brow, intrigued.
“I want to keep my job. At Apollyon. At least give me that. And no physical intimacy required, at least when we’re not in front of the cameras. Like you said.”
I can’t begin to fathom why she would want to keep her job when I’m already paying her for her current role—quite generously—or why she wouldn’t want to sleep with me—that sultry look in her eye when I had her in my chair said otherwise—but I know a good trade in my favor when I see one.
“Done,” I growl. “And allow me to make my rules crystal clear.” I tick off a finger. “One: smile for cameras, darling. Two ...” I tick off another as I close the distance between us. “Remember you are mine to command.”
She bites her lower lip. Like she’s resisting the urge to say “yes, sir” again.
We’ll be fucking by week’s end. I’m certain.
“And three?” she asks innocently.
I lean in, my gaze raking over her, enough to stop her breath short, and for a moment, I make her think I might kiss her again before suddenly I jam my finger into one of the elevator buttons, overriding where she’s stopped the door from closing.
“Lucifer!” she shrieks, the door starting to close on her.
“Rule number three.” I smirk as I watch her struggle just before the doors close. “Never forget who I am.”