Chapter Thirty-Five Charlotte
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlotte
I agree to meet Greed at the headquarters of her lifestyle brand, Zest, the following morning. A massive skyscraper on Bond Street in the NoHo neighborhood of Lower Manhattan. The modern furniture inside the lobby is decorated in bright, eye-catching colors that speak to Mammon’s over-the-top personality, while the walls reflect the muted beige, cream, and bamboo furnishings that’ve become associated with the self-help community.
The reception area smells of lavender and patchouli, and there’s a large quote painted as a mural on the wall behind a fountain that I’m pretty sure is supposed to be shaped like a woman’s vulva. The mural quote is from some celebrity, I think. It reads:
“In a society that thrives on self-doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.”
I scrunch up my face as I read the quote, trying to decide what to make of it. Not because I don’t like it or because I disagree, but because the woman who owns this building and her lifestyle brand make a living from the exact opposite. Greed’s followers buy more, more, more of her latest trending new-age products in a constant quest for holistic perfection.
Maybe that’s the point, really.
“Charlotte.” Mammon’s voice comes from behind me, and I force a smile. It doesn’t surprise me that she came down to the lobby to greet me personally. After all, in her words, “We’re practically sisters.”
Not that I really believe she feels anything for me.
“Let’s head to my office, shall we?” She takes my hand in hers like we’re best friends and leads me to the elevator, as her secretary hops up from the lobby desk and generously presses the button for her.
“Good morning, Ms. Apollyon,” chimes the secretary.
It’s only the Ms. that lets me know she’s talking to Mammon and not me.
Lucifer and I aren’t even married and already some people have started referring to me as Mrs. Apollyon.
Mammon nods to the other woman, releasing my hand as the elevator doors close, and we rise skyward. “So, do you enjoy fucking my brother, or is your arrangement more ... practical?”
My mouth pops open, the question leaving me momentarily speechless.
“I wouldn’t judge you, if that’s what he’s paying you for, of course. I love money even more than the next woman, really,” Mammon says quickly.
I blink at her, still shocked, the words nearly knocking me off my feet, or maybe it was the sudden jerk of the elevator. I grip the handrail as we race toward the twenty-fifth floor.
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh, don’t look so put out, Charlotte. I don’t particularly care why you and my eldest brother are sleeping together, but inquiring minds want to know, of course.” She lifts her phone and gives it a little wave. “My followers are curious, you see.”
Of course.
Greed’s even more active on social media than I am.
I glance back toward the elevator door, trying not to panic as I’m caught between telling her the truth and lying. Isn’t childishly getting back at Lucifer supposed to be what I came here for?
But that’s not entirely true, if I’m honest.
I didn’t forget his lesson, and I likely won’t anytime soon, but maybe if he’d smoothed things out afterward, it would have stuck better.
I did contact Greed out of anger initially, but what I said to Imani in her office was also true. I need to look out for my own self-interest once my relationship with Lucifer ends, and no one is going to do that for me. Least of all him.
Not unless I grab life by the horns whenever the opportunity presents itself to me.
I aim for neutral as I cast Mammon a teasing grin. “I think my sex life with Lucifer should stay between us, don’t you? Especially if we’re going to be family.”
Mammon smiles like she knows I’m giving her the same sort of answer I’d give to the press, but she’s not bothered by my evasion. “Enjoyment, then,” she murmurs. “Interesting.”
The elevator stops, and we step out into the sitting area outside her office.
“Bjorn, hold my calls,” she says to her secretary, a giant Nordic man who, based on his appearance and the covetous way he looks at her, is probably sleeping with her regularly.
He nods obediently and says in a deeply accented voice, “Yes, Miss Mimi.”
Mammon closes the door behind us a moment later and says, “I do so love hearing him say that. Don’t you?” She laughs, placing a hand on my arm like we’re sharing secrets before she rounds to the far side of her desk and takes a seat. She gestures for me to sit across from her. “So, Charlotte, tell me. What can I do for you?”
I take a second to gather my thoughts as I lower myself into the wooden chair across from her desk. The chair’s shaped like a hand with a flat eyeball carved in the middle that I think is supposed to be the evil eye or something. Jax would definitely know.
I smile my best Sunday-morning-greeting grin, trying hard not to wring my hands together, no thanks to the nerves currently making my blood race. I expected Mammon to take the lead in this discussion, and I’m not exactly prepared for how familiar she’s being with me. Already this interview is different from any other I’ve ever given.
So I start with the truth.
“You said to reach out to you if I got tired of Lucifer controlling me.”
“I did.” She preens. Almost giddy.
Apparently, she’s going to make me say it.
“And, well, I guess this is me reaching out.” I shrug. Like it’s no big deal.
She smiles knowingly. “And what do you get out of this little arrangement with my brother, Charlotte?” She runs a finger over an amethyst sculpture on her desk that I’m pretty certain is supposed to be Artemis and Callisto. Or maybe Sappho and one of her many female lovers. “I’d like to know if you expect me to make a counteroffer, you see.”
Her reasoning makes sense, I guess, so I use a bamboo pen and a pad of heart-shaped recycled sticky notes on her desk to scribble down how much Lucifer is paying me.
I write the number I’m hoping to make beneath it, underlining it with a flourished line. It’s a stretch given my experience, but if there’s one thing working for Lucifer has taught me, it’s that to the ultrarich like him and Greed, money is no object. Even if it’s life-changing for someone like me. And with Imani’s guidance, I know to own my worth.
Mammon looks at the figure on the note and grins. “That’s all?”
I don’t let her taunting deter me. “My interest and experience are in public relations and marketing,” I say, also just like Imani taught me. “With specialization in social media management.”
“And that’s what you’d like to do for me? Here at Zest?”
I nod. “Yes, I think I could be an asset to you. Once I’m done working at Apollyon.”
“And are you? Done working there, that is?” She quirks a sculpted blond brow at me.
I shake my head. “Not until after the Met Gala.”
The disgust in her expression is immediate. Though I don’t fully understand it. Maybe she expected me to be able to start straight away?
“It’s two weeks. Standard notice,” I say, trying to get our discussion back on track.
But I’ve already lost her interest. Or so it seems. “And what makes you want to work for me as opposed to one of my brothers?” She stands and crosses to the window, glancing down at the people on the street who look like they’re the size of ants. “Any of the lot of them, really.” She waves a dismissive hand.
“My therapist says I ... have a lot to learn about self-love and self-care, and that’s kind of your thing here at Zest, isn’t it? Part of your brand?”
Pseudoscience aside, anyway.
She laughs. Like what I’ve said is meant to amuse her. “I suppose it is,” she says, turning her attention back toward me. “Here’s what I’m going to do, Charlotte.” She rounds to the front of her desk suddenly, sitting upon its front edge, so close that our ankles are almost touching. She stares down at me, batting those long lashes, and my mouth goes a little dry. She really is just as beautiful and intimidating as any of her brothers. “I’ll file your employment paperwork for you and hire you as soon as you’re ready. But first you need to do something for me.” She grins.
I’m silent as I wait for her to tell me. I need the security this job will provide more than she could ever understand.
But what she says next makes the breath rush from my lungs.
“End things with my brother.”
“Excuse me?”
Mammon’s gorgeous face turns wicked. And it’s the first time I’ve ever noticed any resemblance between her and Lucifer. The Originals vary in everything: race, gender, size, color. Like God wanted us to know that sin comes in every flavor, I guess.
“You heard me. End it. Before the Met Gala.” She smirks at me.
I shake my head as she rounds the far side of her desk again. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
She sits across from me. “My dear, sweet, summer child, you don’t think Lucifer is with you because he truly wants to be, do you? Everything he does is for his pride, you see. To win this ongoing race for redemption between our siblings. Especially now that the final stretch is within reach.” She casts me a pitiful look, the true color of her mouth showing from beneath her mauve lipstick as her lower lip pops into an overexaggerated pout. “And what better way to get humanity to focus upon themselves, to heighten their pride, overinflate their collective egos than to let them entertain the idea that the devil could fall in love with a human nobody. A human nobody who’s exactly like them.”
My stomach drops as she drives the final nail in.
“You’re simply a pawn in his game, Charlotte.” She shoots another sad, pitiful expression at me. “And that’s all you’ll ever be to him.”