Chapter Nineteen Charlotte
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte
By the time Sophie, Lucifer’s personal stylist, has finished with me—several hours later—I’m all caught up on the media coverage from the past few days and prepared for the foundation opening. Well, mentally prepared, at least.
No matter how fictional, the news coverage today served as a welcome distraction, considering Sophie has either sugared, waxed, or plucked almost every inch of my body as she attempted to make me over from my forehead all the way down to my toes.
I might have screamed a few times.
To be fair, I didn’t even know people could wax certain ... places , and even though it’s been hours, well, my asshole still hurts, to say the least, and I haven’t even begun to get dressed yet.
“Ne touche pas.” Sophie swats my hand for what must be the hundredth time since she first began letting my foils set.
“It itches,” I whine.
The chemicals have been sitting in my hair long enough they’re starting to irritate, and it’s not as if I’m really used to any of this. I was never allowed even basic highlights back home. I was supposed to be happy with what God gave me.
Never mind that God’s gift was a boring, mousy blond.
Sophie mutters something rapid to her assistant in French, tsk-tsking and shaking her head, though she does start to remove the foils and wash the excess dye from my hair finally.
“Don’t mind Sophie. Pain is practically her love language.” The voice comes from a Black man in a brightly patterned outfit.
He’s a new arrival. I’m certain.
There’s been so many people in and out of Lucifer’s penthouse throughout the afternoon that all the faces started to blend eventually, but I would have remembered him. The bright colors he wears make me smile, his outfit and matching eye shadow both joyously camp and chic.
Sophie shoots him an annoyed look. “Beauty knows no pain,” she says in heavily accented English.
“Except Brazilian waxing,” I say.
Our new guest snorts.
“I’m Xzander.” He extends a gloriously ring-covered hand toward me.
“Charlotte.” We shake, but I’m careful to keep my fingers spread. My nails are still drying, and Sophie is nothing short of overprotective of her work. “You must be the designer.”
I looked up Xzander’s work on my phone after Lucifer mentioned him. Though there’s been absolutely no sign of my boss-turned-so-called-fiancé since he swept out of here earlier, abandoning me.
Good riddance.
“In the flesh.” Xzander gestures to himself. He’s wearing a metallic gold eye shadow that catches in the light, and I don’t know what it is about him, but I can see why Lucifer chose him.
I like him instantly.
“So how do you want to look tonight, Charlotte? Fun? Flirty?” Xzander wiggles his brows as Sophie begins snipping at the ends of my hair. “Or are we going for sexy?”
Sexy? Me?
Not a chance.
I look down at my lap, taking in my fresh nails and manicured toes that peek out from beneath the black cloth Sophie’s draped over me. Sexy is not me. Sexy is a woman who was never forced to wear a “true love waits” ring, and who never struggled to locate her own clit until recently.
For a moment, my breath hitches, and I drop my chin to my chest, though I know from talking with my therapist that the true shame isn’t mine.
“Honestly?” I push the thoughts aside.
Xzander nods. “Honestly.”
“I ... just want to look like me.”
He grins. “So, like the woman who’s ensnared the devil?”
I laugh. If only . . .
“More like the woman stupid enough to get herself ensnared by the devil,” I correct. “Horns and all.”
Xzander lifts a brow, though he doesn’t prod me for details. He gestures around the penthouse like he’s missing something before his gaze settles on me. “And you’re telling me you don’t want to be here?” He says it as if that’s hard to believe.
I move to shake my head a little, causing Sophie to rattle off something in French that I think has to do with me being still. “It’s complicated.”
Xzander takes a seat on a nearby chair. “Diva, every good story is.”
I glance out the window to where Madison Square Park waits below. The last two weeks have felt like I’ve been living in a dream, or a nightmare, depending on which part you choose. I still don’t know who sent that press release, or who would even want to, for that matter.
But I intend to find out.
“I just ... don’t want to be a pawn in his game, that’s all.”
“But it’s more than that.” Xzander’s eyes narrow as if he can see right through me. “You want to make him squirm, don’t you? Regret messing with your heart?”
I snort. My heart?
“Something like that,” I admit slowly.
“How about this?” Xzander stands, circling me, like he’s mentally taking in my measurements. “How do you want to feel tonight? Who do you want to be?”
I glimpse toward the window again, watching the sunset start to fade over the city below as I think back over the last couple weeks. To Lucifer. Jax. Imani. Every person who left an impression on me. To be honest, I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Every day since I escaped that hellhole where my father left me. And to think that after growing up under his roof, I thought there were no bad choices ahead of me. That things couldn’t get any worse.
I simply traded one villain for another.
“I want to be the kind of woman who looks like she belongs. Like I’m not just his arm candy, or a mouse that’s not worthy of being by his side,” I say softly. “I want to look like I’m formidable, like I’m not just some passive queen.”
“Now that’s something I can work with.” Xzander smiles, finally shooing Sophie off, so he can begin his work. “Though clearly you don’t play chess, Charlotte.”
I lift one sculpted brow. “Why’s that?”
Xzander grins mischievously. “Because any good player knows, the queen’s the most powerful piece.”
It’s another two hours before I’m fully ready, but when Xzander finally steps back from the boudoir mirror and allows me to look at myself, I struggle to speak. The black dress I’m wearing is simple and elegant, setting off the golden undertones of my summer tan and making it look as if my skin has been lit from within.
The neckline dips scandalously low, and the dark material hugs my every curve, creating a dramatic silhouette, even as the hem seems to defy gravity. There’s a slit up my thigh that reveals a daring glimpse of leg, and the color of the material isn’t simply black, it’s inky.
Like Xzander harvested a little of Lucifer’s shadows just for me.
I brush my hands over my hips, and the fabric seems to move with me, taking on a life of its own. And that says nothing for the magic Sophie’s worked with my hair and makeup.
I don’t even recognize me.
My hair falls down my back in loose waves, the golden highlights and my new extensions giving it a dimension I never could have achieved naturally. My eye makeup is dark, nearly as coal black as my dress, making me look almost sultry. I still look like myself, of course, but everything about me has been enhanced, dialed up past ten and polished like an uncut gemstone turned into a jewel.
It’s stunning.
“Lucifer isn’t going to know what hit him.” Xzander smiles at me in the mirror, where he stands behind me, admiring his work.
My mouth goes a little dry as I take it all in. “I’m ... not certain I can do this.”
Xzander lifts a brow.
I bite the inside of my cheek for a moment, and the smile I give him is tight as I meet his eyes in the mirror. “Hold my own against him, I mean.”
I am nothing if not the obedient servant my father made me.
“That doesn’t sound like the woman who wrote that press release.” Xzander’s gaze flicks over me. “You weren’t scared of him then. Why now?”
“I ... didn’t realize how much he owned me,” I admit. “How much his attention would cost.”
“And now that you do”—Xzander passes me a black clutch meant to be paired with my dress as he smiles encouragingly—“what are you going to do about it?”
I smile weakly.
I have a feeling that question is going to plague me for the better part of the evening.
And maybe even into the days and months ahead ...
But I don’t have time to answer it now, so I nod, forcing another tight smile in gratitude as Xzander leads me out of the room, a light quiver igniting in my stomach.
Our task tonight is simple: make the press believe the story Imani has crafted for them. The one where my relationship with Lucifer started as a hot and heavy affair at Gluttony’s club two months ago, shortly after I arrived in the city, which she was certain to mention we were reliving the night of Paris Starr’s murder. Complete with video footage of both of us coming in and out of the club that night.
A less-than-subtle media alibi, if you ask me.
Imani is good at her job.
According to the tabloids, the whole thing started long before Lucifer ever realized his company planned to hire me. After all, everyone knows junior employees have little to no contact with the founder and CEO. How could he have possibly known?
And the press release?
Little more than a heated lover’s spat. High-profile foreplay, really.
All I need to do is play my part and sell it.
To look like I’m madly in love with Lucifer, and he with me.
I’m less confident about that second part.
I’m not even sure he’s capable of it.
Lucifer waits for me at the bottom of the penthouse stairs as I descend to the first-floor foyer, his expression unmoving as he watches me. If Xzander expected a shocked reaction from him, there isn’t one, but as I draw closer, something in Lucifer’s eyes shifts, making them burn like dark coals, and the shadows on the edges of the room seem to move toward me. It’s hard to believe this man knelt between my knees earlier this morning, offering to pleasure me.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to forget that.
Or the power it gave me.
“Beautiful,” Lucifer murmurs as I approach, his smile slowly building as he sweeps his gaze over me. I feel the otherness that surrounds him like a caress. “You look stunning, Charlotte.”
The heat that burns through my cheeks irks me. I don’t want to enjoy his praise, and yet, I do. I don’t even have to fake it.
A part of me craves his attention.
“Shall we?” He extends his arm toward me, the cuffs of his suit coat revealing the white underneath. But as he steps forward, I notice a small drop of crimson along the inner edge.
I open my mouth, prepared to draw attention to it and ask him if it’s what it appears to be, but then suddenly my arm is in his and the moment is gone. So fast I almost believe I imagined it as he leads me toward the elevator.
We ride down to the lobby in silence. Neither of us looking at each other.
I take a deep breath to steady myself.
This isn’t a game. This is reality, and it’s starting to feel that way to me.
And I’m fully aware of what the consequences will be if I don’t play my part.
When we step off the elevator, Lucifer takes my arm again, and the attendant opens the door for us as Lucifer leads me out onto the street. Lucifer’s Town Car sits at the curb, Dagon already waiting. Dagon opens the car door as soon as he sees us, but it’s the sudden flashing lights that shock me. The presence of the paparazzi where there were none only a few hours ago.
They shout for me, quickly surrounding us. “Lucifer! Lucifer! Charlotte!”
“Eyes forward, Charlotte,” Lucifer hisses as he ushers me into the vehicle.
Dagon closes the door behind us, but the lights continue to flash, the crowd of photographers yelling our names, even though we’re alone again.
“That’s only a fraction of the cameras that will be present at the venue,” he says. “Best prepare yourself before we arrive.”
I blink, still a little stunned. “I didn’t expect them to be so ...”
“Aggressive? Violent?” he suggests.
He glances in my direction, and suddenly I realize we aren’t talking about the paparazzi anymore.
My expression hardens. “I was going to say soulless, actually.”
Lucifer smirks, but it’s the hellfire in his eyes that really gives him away. He’s furious with me. I don’t know exactly what I’ve done to make him so angry, but it doesn’t matter.
I want him angry with me.
In fact, I crave it.
No matter how fucked up that makes me.
He leans forward, his voice dropping low. “Let’s get one thing clear, Charlotte. You’re here to play a role. How you feel about that role is of little importance to me.”
I lean in, matching his movement. “I never expected anything less from the monster who’s imprisoned me.”
He huffs. “Quite the gilded cage you’re in, no?” This time, his expression is cold as he looks down his nose at me. “Don’t blame me for the choices that led you here, little dove. That part was all you.”
“And what about you?” I snap as the car begins to move. “You’re not innocent in all this.”
“I never claimed to be.” His eyes narrow.
I don’t know why, but his admission shocks me.
Like his words hold more meaning than he’s letting on. But I can’t put my finger on what exactly.
I don’t try to stop myself from watching his face carefully then. The subtle rise and fall of his chest. He keeps his eyes trained toward the front of the car, refusing to look at me, but in that moment, it strikes me that I really don’t know anything about Lucifer beyond what the papers and years of Bible study have told me. And until now, I never stopped to question any of it.
If it was true, I mean.
No one ever does.
And there’s something almost ... sad about that, if you ask me.
We continue the rest of the ride in silence, the tightness in my chest that comes with that thought distracting me until finally the car pulls to a stop outside 583 Park Avenue.
My heart pounds hard against my ribs.
Even through the window, the paparazzi are going wild, practically salivating at the opportunity to get a glimpse of the man beside me.
Maybe I’m not the only one in a gilded cage.
“Don’t engage with them. Leave that to me,” Lucifer says.
Dagon starts to open the door, but I stop Lucifer, placing a hand on his arm as I refuse to break eye contact, and he signals for Dagon to wait briefly.
“So that’s it, then? I’m just supposed to stand by your side like a good little pet and do as I’m told?” I don’t know what about that makes me so angry. I knew it would be like this, but something about how disappointed I still feel makes me furious.
At how powerless he’s made me.
“Isn’t that exactly what you want to be? A good girl?” Lucifer tilts my face toward him, bringing my mouth dangerously close to his, and any pity I might have felt for him is lost as his eyes fall to my lips, knowingly making my breath uneasy.
As if to punish me.
“This could be so much more pleasant, if you’d let it be,” he whispers.
My mouth waters. My body practically craving it. I have half a mind to give in then. To close the gap between us and just let myself enjoy this ridiculous break from reality. To slip into the obedient role my father trained me for. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“Just tell me what you want me to do, sir .” My lip curls, and I pull away abruptly.
“That’s easy, little dove.” Lucifer captures my hand in his own, quickly sliding a black diamond ring onto my finger like I’m a bitch in need of a collar as suddenly, Dagon opens the door, and the lights begin flashing. “Smile for the cameras, darling.”