Chapter Thirty-One Charlotte
Chapter Thirty-One
Charlotte
I stop by the office later that afternoon to let Lucifer know I won’t be joining him for whatever outing he’s planned for us that night. I figure it’s a small courtesy, rather than ditching him over the phone. I’ve even rehearsed what I’m going to say. I think it would be good if I was seen out with my friends. Or maybe, even real couples need to spend some time apart .
But neither of those really work for me.
Yet when I arrive at the front desk of Apollyon, Jeanine tells me he isn’t there.
“He had to ... you know.” She makes a gesture and points to the floor, like Lucifer might be somewhere underneath. “He said to let you know he’ll be back later this evening.”
I blink.
Okay. So Hell is a legit place, and apparently, he still goes there.
Noted.
I blow out a rough breath, trying not to look like that’s new information to me. “Thanks, Jeanine.” I turn to leave.
In truth, I feel a bit ... odd about the fact that he ghosted me tonight, even if I was planning to do the same, but then Jeanine says, “Oh, and he also said to let you know that the penthouse is at your disposal.”
I glance back in time to see her wrinkle her nose, like she’s more than a little jealous of me, and delivering the message pains her.
I flash her my bitchiest grin. The one Jax taught me. “Don’t worry, I already have a key.”
With that, I head out toward the street, smiling to myself as I watch her mumble something under her breath in the reflection of the building’s glass doors. I’m out near the curb, the late-summer sun shining down on me before I release the breath I’ve been holding. It’s supposed to be my day off, and Jax and I already have plans for tonight, but ...
I whip out my phone, balancing it in one hand with my PopSocket as I text Jax.
How about some retail therapy?
Grinning, I glance at the skyscrapers above me as I wait for her response. I’m twenty-three years old, and for the first time in my life, I have unrestricted access to a penthouse, a driver, and the company credit card Lucifer gave me, and I’m in New York freaking City.
What could possibly go wrong?
An hour later, Jax and I are half a bottle of champagne deep, and we’ve been in and out of half the shops on Fifth Avenue. I don’t even need the company credit card. The clerks recognize me. I simply point at what I want, and the attendants put it on Lucifer’s account.
The fun doesn’t stop there.
By the time we’re supposed to head for the club that night, the penthouse is trashed. Pool floaties. Champagne spray. Body glitter. Well, as trashed as a place that freaking ginormous can be from only two people, and Jax and I are thoroughly sloshed.
Lucifer’s Bowmore doesn’t make a half-bad mixer.
Dagon drops us outside The Sapphire Lounge a few hours later, trying not to show his amusement at how Jax and I stumble toward the entrance, giggling. He smiles at the doorman, nodding as if he knows him personally, and we skip the line that wraps around to the next block.
The Sapphire Lounge isn’t as popular as The Serpent, or as dangerous, so we don’t have to sign any waivers or anything. Entry isn’t nearly as sought after, but it’s got a fun, less-intense sort of vibe to it.
Ian and several of Jax’s other theater friends join us shortly.
Erin. Riley. And Taylor. And a person who introduces themselves as only Avery.
Avery. Just Avery. Emphasis on the no last name.
I’m pretty sure they use they/them pronouns, but I haven’t had a chance to ask yet.
By the time we all get our drinks, mine and Jax’s pregame buzz is starting to wear off, and we’re ready for round two.
“Why aren’t we dancing?” she whines, bumping into Ian as she slides into the booth where we’re sitting. The blue lights over the dance floor create a gorgeous sheen over her skin, highlighting her best features, and the body glitter we’re both wearing gives us an almost otherworldly glow.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I shout over the music.
“How come?” Ian shouts back to me. He’s still sober, though he won’t be for long, at the rate we’re all going, and he watches Jax and me in that amused way people do when you’re drunk and doing something funny.
Though I don’t know what I’m doing to make him look like that.
The beat of the club’s music pulses.
“Her dad was like an evangelical minister or something,” Jax yells too loudly. Loud enough a server passing by our table gives us a funny look. Jax sways slightly. “Dancing was probably the devil’s deed or something, right, Charlotte?” she says, making air quotes with her fingers over the words “devil’s deed,” then throws back her head and laughs.
I don’t really find it funny.
“It’sss ... complicated,” I say, slapping a slow, surprised hand over my mouth as I realize I’m slurring.
Jax leans forward, wiggling her brows. “She and Lucifer have this whole Dom-Daddy thing,” she shouts to the table.
“Jax—” I hiss, swatting my hand at her.
“What? There’s no shame in it, or anything. Get you some, girl.” She makes a mock little spanking motion with her hand, and a round of laughter fills the table, before she hesitates. “Though ... he is following the normal rules for it, isn’t he?” She quirks a brow, like it’s just occurred to her to be concerned about this. It’s not as if I have a ton of experience.
I scoff, giving her a coy smile. But I don’t answer.
Like Lucifer would ever play by human rules.
Ian glances down at his lap as he flushes then, looking adorably bashful considering the topic of conversation. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be into that sort of thing, ya know, with your background and everything.”
My brows draw together as I try to concentrate on not sounding as totally hammered as I feel. “It ... makes sense when you think about it, actually,” I shout over the music, echoing one of the many conversations Lucifer and I had recently.
Ian lifts a brow.
I screw up my face as I attempt to focus, but instead, I end up word-vomiting at him as I yell over the music. “The modern church is full of that kind of ... imagery. Especially if you’re a woman. You’re supposed to love God above all else. You’re taught that submission is what it means to be a good woman, and ... to seek His wisdom in all things. You’re supposed to submit to God’s authority, and to your husband’s, but never question, never doubt. To have faith in Him. For He’ll provide everything you need.” I make a dramatic pointing motion at the club’s ceiling.
“And when you don’t do those things, the punishment is ... well”—I laugh, letting out a small hiccup, as I sway—“majorly fucked up. Eternal damnation, unless you beg for his forgiveness and repent. And to repent, you’re supposed to deprive yourself of all the things that might have tempted you in the first place. Things He created, mind you. Almost as if he wants to tempt you into punishment. So, in that way, I guess ... God is really just the ultimate Dom.” I flop back down into my seat.
The table goes quiet for a long beat, before finally Erin yells, “I think I’m going to need another drink.” She moves to push her way out of the booth.
“I’ll go with you.” Ian.
He casts a furtive glance at me.
Avery soon follows.
Riley makes no excuse. She simply points to the bathroom and signs something before she does a dance with her hands between her legs, mouthing that she needs to pee.
We likely couldn’t hear her well over the music, anyway. She has a cochlear implant that makes her pretty soft spoken.
It’s like they’re all worried sitting next to me will get them smited, or something.
I bury my face in my hands, slumping down into my seat at the realization that I stupidly made everyone at the table feel uncomfortable. Maybe I’m no longer cut out for this life.
Or maybe I never was in the first place.
Partying has never really been my thing.
“So, maybe less on the God is everyone’s Dom-Daddy thing?” Jax makes a pained yikes face at me.
“I don’t think I’m up for this, actually.” I move to scoot out of the booth, but Jax quickly stops me.
“I thought things were going really well, up until then, I mean.” She nods to where her other friends now wait at the bar before she gives me a sympathetic look. “But if you don’t want to tough it out, it’s okay.”
“I ... think it’d be better if I wait and try to socialize again after I’m through with this whole Lucifer thing. He’s sort of invading my mind these days.” I’ve crossed over from comfortably buzzed to the sad side of drunk, and I’m starting to feel it.
“You want me to call an Uber for you?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve got it.” I brandish my phone before I pull her in for a hug. “I had fun. Make an excuse for me?”
She gives my hand a quick squeeze. “Always.”
I grab my purse, abandoning my drink as I make my way toward the exit, relieved once I’m outside and the cool night air hits me. The atmosphere inside the club was starting to feel ... suffocating. I unlock my phone and I’m texting Dagon to ask him to come and get me when someone comes up by my side and says my name. “Charlotte Bellefleur?”
I turn and the paparazzo’s camera flashes at me, barely inches away from my face, so close it nearly sends me down and onto the pavement.
I stumble, temporarily blinded, but someone catches me.
“Hey, get out of her face, asshole!” Ian.
Gluttony’s bouncers notice the altercation then, stepping in to place a little space between the camera and me. They haul the paparazzo a safe distance away.
Though the flashes continue.
According to Lucifer, taking pictures isn’t a crime. Even if it is invasive and annoying. He had to pay off the press for years to keep his face out of the limelight, apparently.
I don’t even want to know how much he had to spend to accomplish that.
“Thanks,” I say as I turn toward Ian, who helps me remain steady. As soon as I can stand on my own, he releases me. “I’m still not entirely used to them.” I nod toward the camera.
“I’d imagine so.” Ian shoves his hands in his pockets as he grins at me.
Jax is right. He is cute. Even if it’s in a plain, average guy sort of way.
Lucifer’s spoiled me for all others.
No one could ever compare.
As if he can read my thoughts, Ian says, “So, I don’t mean to pry, but I thought you said it was just for show? You and Lucifer, I mean.”
I glance between him and the nearby paparazzo, who’s now been joined by a few others, trying to decide what I’m willing to share. “It is ... well, sort of. But you ... didn’t hear that from me.”
Ian’s gaze flits over me appreciatively as he rubs at the nape of his neck. “So, does that mean I still have a chance?”
Whoa, boy. He’s definitely flirting, but ...
It does nothing for me.
I place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re a really nice guy, Ian, but I ... don’t think you and I would work, to be honest.” I give him a soft smile, trying my best to turn him down easy. I am so not used to having problems like this. “But thanks for saving me.”
“Sure, anytime.” He returns the expression, but it’s dimmer than it was only moments ago. Rejection tends to do that, I guess. “Just do me a favor and get home safe, will ya? I’d hate for another repeat of what we went through with Jax.”
He seems to mean it earnestly, and he waves and starts to leave.
“Hey, Ian. Wait.” I grab hold of his jacket.
He turns toward me, a look of hope in his eyes that I hate to disappoint.
“That night at The Body Shoppe. You ... didn’t see anything, did you? Like a shadowy figure or whoever it was that spiked Jax’s drink?”
“A shadowy figure?” He chuckles, raking a hand through his hair. “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink,” he teases before his expression turns serious. “But no, I didn’t see anything. Though I did catch a glimpse of one of Lucifer’s guys, that Asta-figure or whatever.”
For a moment, I think maybe he might mean Azmodeus, but I’m pretty certain Ian would know the name of his own employer, even if he’s already had a few drinks.
“Astaroth, you mean?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy. Lucifer’s bodyguard.”
“Astaroth?” I ask again. Just to be sure.
He nods. “That’s the one. Wasn’t anywhere near Jax and the table where she was doing her readings though. Didn’t even order a drink.”
I make a mental note to mention it to Lucifer at a later date. “Thanks, Ian. Really. For everything.” I place a friendly hand on his biceps and give it a squeeze.
He gives me a mock salute. “See you around, Mrs. Lucifer.”
He ducks back inside the club a moment later, leaving me alone on the street. I glance down at my phone. I never hit send on my text to Dagon. Guess I’ll hail a taxi.
But as I raise my hand, attempting to flag one down, my phone lets out a ping as the screen begins to glow through the dark.
I glance down at it, trying not to hyperventilate as I read.
You can’t run from me forever, Charlotte.