Chapter Forty Charlotte
Chapter Forty
Charlotte
It’s the night of the Met Gala, and not even the string of texts I receive from my stalker can worsen my anxiety.
You filthy slut.
I’ve got my eye on you.
I’m coming for you.
Don’t think you can hide from me.
With each text my stomach tightens like a rock, my anxiety skyrocketing until even the quiet noises and low lights of the penthouse are too loud, too bright. I don’t respond or engage with any of them. Exactly like Lucifer’s told me. He still hasn’t located the sender, a fact that’s made him particularly short-tempered, but I’ve already changed the settings on my phone to never display my location or show if a message has been read or received.
In the interim, Astaroth and Lucifer’s other demons have been tailing me for days, and honestly, I’m more than a little grateful for them. I’m ... afraid to be alone.
The Gala starts at seven, so Lucifer picks me up in the limo at seven thirty.
So we can arrive at our designated entrance time.
We sit and wait in the line of limousines that spans several blocks, all the way back to Lexington Avenue. Like all our evenings together, tonight is about appearances, but I’m finding it hard to stay still.
“When on earth are we going to move?” I complain, for what’s likely the hundredth time within the past half hour. I roll down the window and poke out my head, the cold autumn breeze fanning my face.
“You humans have little patience,” Lucifer says to me.
He’s in a particularly nasty mood, and for some reason it ... pains me.
I glance toward him, and images of what could be flash through my mind.
Even as I try to convince myself that tonight won’t be our last.
We haven’t made any promises or even spoken about it, but the other night changed things.
It changed everything.
“Finally, we’re moving,” I say, rolling the window back up.
I didn’t allow Xzander to put me in the bizarre headdress he initially showed me to match tonight’s theme, but the way Sophie decorated and pinned my hair to match my sparkling leather Marc Jacobs dress is almost as elaborate.
I much prefer Lucifer’s getup.
An all-black suit with a camellia-flower-lined velvet cloak and sharp silver fastenings that make him look even more like this city’s vicious king than he already does. The black guyliner he’s wearing tonight definitely does it for me.
I sigh as we pull to a stop again, less than a block from the museum. Time seems to be moving faster than I can process, though we’re still stuck here waiting. “What’s taking so long?”
“True celebrities are never in a hurry, Charlotte,” Lucifer says to me, causing me to narrow my eyes and glare at him.
The limo inches forward.
“Do you think it’d be tacky if I took pictures inside the fashion exhibit?” I ask thoughtfully. “I know we’re supposed to turn our phones off, but I never got a chance to go to the museum before I met you, and I’ve always wanted to see one of the Gala’s exhibits.”
“Who cares if it’s tacky?” he says, grumbling. “Give it a week, and anyone who speaks ill of you will already be focused on whatever other scandalous things we’re doing. Or better yet, buried six feet under.” He waves a dismissive hand, then pauses like he’s just realized something.
I quirk a brow. “What’s with you? Why are you being so mean?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“Lucifer, you can’t make empty threats against innocent people like that, they—”
“They’re not empty. Nor innocent, for that matter.”
“What?” The fury in his eyes causes the fine hair on my arms to lift in warning. “What are you talking about? Lucifer—”
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I can’t do this. Not tonight.” He’s out of the car and striding down the street toward the Gala before I can even blink.
The air in my lungs feels trapped, and for a moment, all I can do is watch in shock until my brain comes back online.
No. No, not yet.
I race after him. As best as I can, anyway, considering I’m in heels.
Lately Imani’s been giving me walking lessons. Apparently, she used to be a runway model back in the day, before she worked for Lucifer. But I still haven’t quite mastered the skill. I have to run for nearly half a block before finally I manage to catch him midstride. Lucifer’s well over six feet. And I barely top out at a measly five seven, in four-inch heels.
“Lucifer!” My breasts are almost bursting from my dress as I try to catch my breath.
“I can’t do this, Charlotte. I’m sorry,” he says, whirling toward me.
I’m suddenly dizzy as the worst-case scenario flashes through my mind.
Do what?
We’re close enough to the Gala now that a few of the paparazzi have started to notice us, and the cameras begin flashing.
I lower my voice. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” He gestures between us. “Our little charade.”
I flinch, shuddering as I struggle for any excuse to avoid what I know is about to come. “You mean ... our relationship? But I thought you said ...”
“No, darling, the other charade,” he hisses. “The only charade that’s been of any importance this entire time. The one where we pretend you’ve somehow changed me.”
Something shifts in his eyes then, and the way he says it stills me.
Reminds me of Greed.
My mouth goes dry. “Lucifer, what do you mean?” I try to reach for his hand, but he pulls away from me, raking his fingers through his hair.
Spots line my vision as an overwhelming feeling of dread nearly knocks me off my feet. Adrenaline shoots through my system.
“Lucifer, what does that mean?” I repeat. Harder now. More desperate.
“Ask me who sent the press release, Charlotte,” he says softly, like he can hardly bring himself to say it. “Ask me who sent the press release.”
My eyes go wide in disbelief as I watch him, my limbs heavy.
Because he’s already told me the answer the moment he asked me.
I see the truth in his eyes. For the first time.
He had all the means. All the access. The opportunity.
I shake my head, my mind reeling. “No. No,” I hear myself saying, refusing to believe he’s manipulated me so thoroughly.
A lump forms inside my throat as I suddenly begin to connect all the dots. All the little pieces of information I’ve gathered over the last few weeks.
That only an Apollyon employee would have had access to my computer. That they would have needed to get past security. That they would’ve had to have known I was angry with Lucifer, eager to hurt him. That they would’ve needed to know where my office was. Would have needed a reason to want to manipulate me.
Greed’s words come rushing back. Both prophecy and warning.
You’re simply a pawn in his game, Charlotte.
My brain scrambles to find a logical excuse as I struggle to breathe.
And that’s all you’ll ever be ...
I’m shaking when I finally bring myself to glance toward Lucifer.
But it’s the look of ... self-loathing in his eyes that stills me.
“I poison everything I love.”
My lungs constrict, even more spots clouding my vision.
How could I not have known? How could I not have realized this whole time that ...
The true monster was standing right in front of me.
However big of a monster they may be, you’ll always be an even bigger one.
My own hurtful words come rushing back. Said in anger. Like somehow, no matter how naively hopeful I was that it wasn’t true, some deep part of me knew.
And still, I was foolish enough to fall in love with him anyway.
My heart seems to slow for a beat.
How could I have been so blind?
“I ... don’t think I can bear another moment of your silence, Charlotte. Please say something.” Lucifer’s sneer feels so at odds with his words, I feel tossed about in a storm. Then it hits me that the hate in his eyes isn’t aimed toward me. It’s for himself.
For the monster he always told me he’d be. Right from the very start.
“And the threatening texts?” I say, glancing toward my phone. “Were those from you too?”
“No,” he says. “No, I would never threaten you. Not the way they have. You belong to me.”
Slowly I start to back away, shaking my head repeatedly as a fake, nervous laugh escapes me. As if that could somehow make it all better.
“But I don’t,” I whisper, still barely able to draw breath. “I don’t belong to you, Lucifer. You used me. Manipulated me,” I mutter before I finally bring myself to glance up at him, my words choppy. “But what I can’t understand is why.”
“Gabriel’s return,” he says. “Initially.” His expression hardens.
Already making me regret everything.
Everything that I thought we shared.
It was a lie. All a lie.
And the only one who didn’t know it was me.
A dull weight presses against my chest, until I’m incapable of filling my lungs completely. “And now?” I ask, my voice quivering.
“And now I ... find my motives have taken on a different target entirely.”
My eyes snap to his face before I glance toward the crowd in the distance. To the protest signs out in full force this evening.
I would never threaten you. His words play in my head almost obsessively.
Not the way they have.
“The Righteous?” I breathe. “That new far-right hate group?”
“Your father’s, actually.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me.
He smiles, though there’s no amusement in it as he shoves his hands in his pockets, adopting a languid pose, but his gaze never leaves me.
Like he’s determined to see this through.
As if he’s doing this all for me. For my benefit.
Waging war against humanity.
But . . . to what end?
I feel the throb of my own heartbeat in my temple, my apprehension making me lightheaded, but instead of asking him, all I manage is, “You aren’t the only one with secrets, you know.” I say it as much to shock him as to hurt him.
Like he did me.
Though nothing I do to him could ever compare.
No matter what’s happened to me, I’ll never be as broken as he’ll always be.
Never as vicious. Never as pure animal as ...
The snake who tempted Eve.
And now . . .
Pain ignites in my palms from where my fingernails dig into my skin.
Me.
How could I have been so fucking blind?
“I met with your sister,” I say, my voice turning cruel. I glance toward the few paparazzi sneaking their way nearer to us, the emotions roiling in my belly vacillating between disbelief, hurt, and rage as I try to hide how ... exposed I feel. “Accepted a job at her company.”
Though the second part is a lie.
Anything to try and hurt him as much as he’s hurt me.
Lucifer’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was furious. But now I do know better. I know him , intimately.
Another lie. Another thing he’s kept from me.
“You knew,” I say. It’s not a question but a statement. “You knew, didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “My sister proved a worthy distraction. Exactly as I allowed her to be. Even if she hired someone to kill Paris Starr for her own twisted means.”
The shock of Greed murdering Paris Starr barely registers amid all the other emotions I’m feeling as a burst of cold twists my insides. I force myself to tune everything around me out. Everything except Lucifer’s words.
“And us?” I say, shaking my head at him as I shiver. Almost too afraid to say it. “Was that all a lie too?”
He steps forward.
And I can’t stop myself from taking a small step back.
“I told you from the start that it was fake, Charlotte. It was all fake. Everything but this.” He snatches me toward him, and I have all of two seconds to try to jerk away before he kisses me, silencing my uncontrolled whimpers as he smashes his lips against mine, and for the first time, the bittersweet taste of his smoke and whisky turns to ash on my tongue.
But still, I melt into him.
Another shiver rakes through me, this one bringing a fresh feeling of weightlessness and heat. Warmth infuses my body, filling my heart, my soul, until it feels like it’s singing, humming at the realization that he still wants me. Within seconds, my worry starts to lift, and I feel like I’ve been swept up in a tide of emotions of my own creation and I’m being carried away.
Like every pain and concern has left me.
Desire sparks, low and deep, making my belly warm and my hands practically itch with the need to touch, to explore him. Like I’d endure any suffering, any hardship if only it allowed me to get closer to him.
And even after everything he’s done . . . I . . .
Can’t help but want to forgive him. To love him.
Worship him.
Suddenly, he breaks the kiss between us, leaving me breathless and panting.
“And what now?” I whisper as we trade breath. Even as my mind screams that I should push him away, my body betrays me. I’m his, completely. “You’re just going to throw that all away? Like I never meant anything to you? And for what? To punish your Father? The people who hurt me?”
He’s shaking his head at me, like I can’t possibly understand. “That’s where you’re wrong, darling. I never had any intention of letting you go.” He tears another fierce kiss from me as his grip on my shoulders tightens, almost painfully. “I tried to warn you, little dove,” he whispers against my ear. “I would burn this world for you. Now you’re about to bear witness to that.”
Abruptly, he releases me then, shoving me only for me to stumble back into Astaroth’s waiting arms.
My thoughts flash to what he told me that very first night in Gluttony’s club.
True love is ferocious, vicious, destructive. True love is costly, and humanity knows little of it. It’s a price few are willing to pay. You all want the feeling of love without any of the work that goes into it. It’s an irrational, self-destructive impulse disguised as joy.
Speak for yourself, I’d whispered.
But he already was. Even then, he was trying to warn me.
To tell me what his love would cost.
“You truly expected me to sit back and allow them to hurt you? To not punish those responsible for your suffering when it serves my purpose so perfectly?” He sneers like he finds the whole of humanity beneath him. All of them, except for me. “Your fatal mistake,” he says, his voice dropping low as his gaze rakes over me, “was that you forgot rule number three.” He leans down, placing one last kiss on my cheek as he whispers, “Never forget who I am.”
He turns and leaves me then, standing there on the corner of the street. Astaroth holding me.
“Lucifer! Lucifer, don’t!”
Astaroth starts to drag me back toward the limo.
But I refuse to go easily. I thrash and kick, struggling against him.
“Don’t allow her anywhere near here,” Lucifer orders. Our distant onlookers appear even more intrigued and confused than usual, but none of them intervene. Try to save me.
“Don’t worry,” Lucifer says, casting one last glance over his shoulder at me. “You’ve already ensured my Father will forgive me come sunrise. I’ll see you shortly.”
I watch him go, screaming and fighting against Astaroth, uncertain whether it was always going to end this way. Or whether he’s exactly the monster I made him.
The moment I made him fall in love with me ...