Page 20 of Wicked Believer

“You know I don’t,” Imani answers. “It’s why you hired me.”

“Among other things.” A mischievous smile plays on my lips.

Mine and Imani’s relationship is strictly professional.

Deals with me typically are.

But Imani and I have auniquehistory.

She sighs, backing off at the mention of our agreement as she swirls her Bordeaux. “Look, all I’m saying is that maybe you should apologize.”

“Apologize?” I sneer.

The assumption thatIam the problem here is enough that I feel the glass in my hand crack slightly.

“Lucifer,” Imani says, her eyes darting in warning from the buckling tumbler to the otherwise empty restaurant.

The Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center. I would never take Charlotte anywhere I considered beneath me.

We’re in public,Imani’s expression seems to say.

Meaning that humanity, and, by proxy, the press is watching. Always.

I scowl, my throat writhing, even as I loosen my grip. Considering all the offerings the public’s pride and vanity bestows on me, I can’t say I miss the days of my relative anonymity before mine and Charlotte’s debut, but I do miss the quiet.

Theillusionof privacy.

No matter how much it cost me.

“I’m the devil,” I say, snapping my fingers at the waiter, who hops to and quickly retrieves another glass. “I do not apologize.”

Imani’s eyes narrow. “You will if you want to keep that poor human girl you plucked from obscurity.”

“She’s not human.” I swirl my new glass. “Not any longer.”

Imani’s eyes widen.

“Lucifer,” she breathes slowly, “what did you do?”

But any chance for her to probe further is bolloxed as a pair of familiar, gold-flecked eyes shift toward me. My gaze locks on to my fiancée’s the moment she enters the room.

I feel her presence keenly. As if she is another limb.

One not even my Father can sever from me.

It’s been several days since she and I last exchanged more than a handful of words, our combined appearance schedules following thefuneral keeping us both busy, but tonight she looks as beautiful and fragile as ever.

No, not fragile. Not for long.

Not now that I’ve released the powers she’s stolen from me.

I’ll make an immortal of her yet.

At her approach, I stand, my gaze never leaving hers, and despite whatever bad blood lies between us, whatever Imani says next is lost to me.

I have eyes only for Charlotte.

I pull out her chair, ever the gentleman. “You’re late.”