Chapter Twenty-One Charlotte
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlotte
My jaw clenches, and I sway a little. I’m filled with righteous fury as I down my fourth flute of champagne. As if having to smile for all the cameras, and Lucifer, as I walked the red carpet on his arm wasn’t enough, I’ve had to fake interest in every dull conversation presented to me. The company I’ve been forced to endure tonight would be more than enough to make even the most docile of people disgusted.
No wonder Lucifer is such a control freak.
I snatch another champagne flute from a passing tray. My fifth and what probably should be my final, if I’m honest. Everyone who’s anyone in New York City is here, all the who’s who of the city present to witness Lucifer’s debut ... with me. Despite my silent dismissal of the press as we entered, there’s a definite interest in who I am and what exactly I’m doing on Lucifer’s arm. Like Xzander said, I’m the woman who ensnared the devil, after all. Or at least that’s what the press thinks.
I look around the party dazedly.
I expected to feel a bit more pressure being among the city’s glittering elite, but Xzander really did work some magic into my outfit.
All eyes are on me. But not with judgment or censure. It’s like I belong here.
At least temporarily.
I sip my champagne, watching the other guests’ movements. I’m not usually much of a drinker—my father’s church never even used real communion wine—but at the moment, I could use something harder. Though I need to leave here standing up.
I sigh and abandon my nearly full glass, handing it to a passing waiter who nods and whisks it away for me as I begin to search for water instead.
“Already calling it quits?”
A voluptuous blond woman approaches, and though she looks different in person, I recognize her from my Apollyon presentation immediately. Greed.
“You shouldn’t allow my brother to get to you, you know. He insists upon controlling everything.” She waves a dismissive hand before stepping closer and lowering her voice a little. “I find a bit more freedom to be liberating.”
“I’d imagine so.” More is Greed’s thing, after all.
I take in the full image of her. Greed’s body and her outfit are an homage to excess. To overindulging. Making her the perfect mixture of over the top and alluring.
“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.” She extends a manicured hand toward me. “Mammon, but you can call me Mimi.”
“Mimi?”
“It was Lucifer’s nickname for me when we were children, or new to existing, as it were, though he’ll never admit it, of course. Not publicly.”
It’s hard to imagine Lucifer as a child, or a ... cherub, I guess?
Anything other than the man he is currently.
“He really should be a little more grateful for the things he has, you know.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know much about gratitude,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
Shocked, I clap a hand over my own mouth, but Greed simply throws back her head and laughs at me. Maybe I have had too much to drink this evening.
“Oh, I can see why he’s so taken with you.” Mammon reaches into the matching emerald clutch she carries, removing an elegant-looking business card. “If you ever get tired of him bossing you around, call me.” She tucks it into my cleavage before I can stop her, admiring me appreciatively, and then she’s gone.
I blow out a rough breath.
“Don’t worry. She tends to have that effect on people.” This time, the breathy, melodic voice comes from a dark-haired woman scouring the dessert table behind me. “Dissatisfaction is kind of her brand. There’s always more to be had with Greed.”
I nod. “Of course.”
She glances across the table, extending a hand toward me with a grin. “Evie.”
“Charlotte.”
She smiles, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, I know. You’re all anyone can talk about.”
“Lucifer is, you mean,” I say, correcting her.
She nods, still smiling at me in a prolonged way. “Oh, well, him too, of course.”
I lift a brow, trying to place her. “Are you with the press?”
She shakes her head. “Me? Oh no. My father is one of the richest men in the city.” She lowers her voice. “Russian Mafia.” She winks.
I blink. I must have misheard her. “Excuse me?”
She laughs, suddenly rounding the table and lacing her arm in mine like we’re besties. “Don’t look so scared, silly. Everyone’s a criminal at these things. What better way to cover up your crimes than charity?” She looks out toward the partygoers and sighs dreamily. “Though you didn’t hear that from me.” She abandons my side, floating back to the dessert table to pop a chocolate-covered cherry into her mouth. She squeals as she claps her hands. “Oh, that’s good.”
I quirk my head. “So, if that’s true, what brings you here?”
She shrugs dismissively. “My father wants to buy Lucifer’s favor, of course. Just like everyone else here. And I’m one of the city’s favorite socialites, so he uses me as leverage.” She continues to grin, but then her voice loses its dreamy quality. “I’m his pretty little pawn. Though you’d know that if you’d been here as long as they say you have.”
She glances over me, appraising me coldly.
Maybe Lucifer was right.
Maybe I am failing in my role tonight.
I open my mouth to try and deflect her, but she beats me to the punch.
“What about you?” she says suddenly, her voice taking on that breathless, childlike tone once again. “Why are you here?”
I bristle. At first appearance, Evie may appear flighty, but clearly, she sees right through me, and she knows as well as I do that I don’t belong here.
“I’m Lucifer’s fiancée,” I say, mimicking her and forcing a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
She steps around the far side of the table to join me. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I know a trapped woman when I see one.”
My brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“We all have that look in our eyes.” She gestures to my face. “I do too. Like I’m desperate for someone to love me. But how can we be desperate for something we’ve never really experienced? That’s the cruelest part of our existence, I think. Women like you and me.” She stares wistfully into the distance for a beat before she sighs. “Well, I better get back to the party.”
As quickly as she came, she floats away, practically leaving me sputtering.
What. The. Fuck.
“If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from that girl. She’s a lit fuse ready to blow,” someone says from beside me.
I turn. Imani.
“And Lucifer isn’t?”
Imani shakes her head at me like I’m being naive. Clearly, she’s still angry with me. “She may be New York City’s favorite it-girl, but her father keeps her under lock and key. Rumor has it he’s trying to force her into an arranged marriage. You wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you?” She turns a scathing look in my direction.
I open my mouth, half prepared to confess everything to Imani, but then my eye catches Lucifer’s, and my stomach churns. “I ... I think I need a moment. Excuse me.”
I make my way toward the ladies’ room, only allowing myself to take a full breath once I lock the stall door behind me. I sink against it, my pulse racing.
Is it really that obvious?
What my father did to me?
I glance down at Greed’s card, still hot in my hand, her words coming back to me.
If you ever get tired of him bossing you around ...
I crumple the card in my fist, intending to throw it into the toilet, but then my phone dings, and I abandon it inside my clutch as I fish out my phone instead.
It’s an unknown number, but with a New York City area code.
Lucifer. Obviously.
It’s not like he ever actually bothered to give me a way to contact him. He’d probably make me call and schedule an appointment with Jeanine. I open the text.
I’ve got my eye on you , it reads.
I scoff. Yeah. Definitely Lucifer.
I move to shove my phone back into my clutch and snap it shut with a little more force than necessary, but then pause.
If he thinks he can control me that easily, then he really hasn’t figured me out at all.
Pulling out Greed’s card, I flatten it out and fire off a quick email to her with my résumé attached.
Mimi, It was lovely to meet you. Let’s connect.
Satisfied, I slip my phone back into my purse and exit the stall.
The evening continues about how I expected, with Lucifer giving me a wide berth. He only casts occasional intrigued glances in my direction from where he stands on the second-floor balcony, as I do the exact opposite of what I was told.
I flirt shamelessly.
Men. Women. Anyone who comes across my path.
No one is safe from me.
By the time the event’s winding to an end, half the ballroom is practically eating out of the palm of my hand, and it wasn’t even that hard, honestly.
My father may have groomed me to be obedient and demure, but he also taught me exactly how to appeal to the whims of rich and powerful men.
The modern church has plenty.
I’ve nearly finished my rounds, having introduced and ingratiated myself to every major power player in the city, before finally, Imani taps my shoulder. “Time to go now, Charlotte.”
I open my mouth and try to find something to say to her, but ... nothing comes to me.
Lucifer waits beside the lobby door for me, prepped to make our exit.
When I reach him, he extends his hand toward me. “Shall we?”
To anyone else, he’d simply look enamored with me, but I’m learning to recognize the subtle changes in his expression quickly. If I thought he was furious with me before, it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at me now. But I don’t care.
Let him hate me.
The feeling would only be mutual, after all.
As we head out toward the waiting press on Park Avenue, Lucifer tucks me against him, leaning down to hiss into my ear. “Don’t think your behavior tonight will go unpunished.”
A shiver runs through me.
“And what are you going to do?” I sneer. “Spank me?”
His grip on my lower back grows more possessive, more intense. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that’s exactly what I want?” I say tartly. “For you to dominate me?”
If I wasn’t tucked so firmly against his side, I might have missed the brief hitch in his step then. He blows out a slow breath as he chuckles like he’s amused with me. “If that’s the case, you’ll get far more than you bargained for tonight, little dove.”
I look up and meet his gaze. “Try me.”
Hellfire sparks in his eyes. “Smile for the world, Charlotte.”
We fall silent then as we reach the red carpet, and the cameras begin flashing. Lucifer navigates the few questions we take from the press with ease, commanding their attention with a natural charisma that even I have to admit is a little intoxicating.
The media is going to be eating this up for weeks. It’s not an exaggeration to say this is the news event of the century.
Everyone wants a piece of Lucifer.
Most of the questions are straightforward. Clearly staged, thanks to Imani. And those that are even slightly off topic, Lucifer thwarts easily. That’s not to say his debut isn’t without controversy, of course. A wall of police officers block off a group of far-right evangelical protesters around the corner on 63rd Street.
I try not to glance toward them, but the sight of one of their signs stops me.
Charlotte Bellefleur is the real “Little Whore.”
My stomach twists.
I’ve been so caught up in this situation with Lucifer that I never stopped to consider what those from my old life might think.
Not that they matter to me.
Lucifer’s gaze follows mine, noticing the way I tense, and his jaw ticks.
“No more questions,” he says then, the confident, commanding tone drawing all my attention toward him.
“What about Charlotte?” one of the reporters in the crowd yells from behind me.
Lucifer turns to address him. “Miss Bellefleur won’t be taking any questions this evening.”
I smile in fake agreement as Lucifer starts to turn us away, but then that sign catches my eye once more, and suddenly I’m done for the evening.
I’m done being what anyone expects me to be.
Abruptly, I step out of Lucifer’s arms and turn toward the journalist. “Actually, I’d be glad to answer some questions,” I say, smiling politely.
I don’t want to look toward Lucifer to see what his reaction is. But I can’t help myself.
The danger thrills me.
His expression is unperturbed and unmoving. He doesn’t miss a beat.
But I can practically feel the fury radiating from him.
I take the press questions in stride, answering each one honestly and thoughtfully. Well, as honest as I can be while maintaining our story, anyway.
A few minutes later, as the cameras continue to flash, Lucifer draws me close once more. “That’s enough,” he hisses into my ear before he addresses the press. “No more questions, please.”
We head toward his Town Car, pausing to give one last wave to the cameras as Dagon holds open the door for us. But the pressure of Lucifer’s hand on my hip is a little more biting than it was previously.
“Come on, Lucifer! Give her a quick kiss for us, would ya?” someone shouts from the crowd.
I expect him to ignore the heckler, but before I can stop him, suddenly his hands are on me, pulling me to him so that we’re nearly nose to nose. “You think you have what it takes to play games with me, little dove?” he growls.
I stiffen. “I’d say I already am.”
“You underestimate me.”
“Or maybe you’re the one underestimating me.”
He chuckles wickedly, stroking the back of his hand over my cheek in a way that makes me shiver. The press is going to eat their fill of this and then some. They’ll be begging for seconds.
But all I can think about is the monster in front of me, the way his large hands grip the back of my neck and his fangs flash as he brushes noses with me. “You want to burn, Charlotte? So be it.” He tightens his grip on me. “I’ve always liked to play with fire.”
He kisses me then, and it’s different from before.
Rough and untethered, and it ignites something dangerous in me.
The cameras go wild, and I can hardly breathe against the mixture of pleasure-pain that floods me. My lips. My chest. My body. All the way down to my center. His kiss consumes me.
But it isn’t until he pulls back and releases me, smirking devilishly for the cameras, that I bring a shaky, unsteady hand to my mouth.
Only to realize there’s blood on my lips where he bit me.