Page 26 of Wicked Believer

“I was hurt,” she says softly, shaking her head. “I just need time to adjust to all these changes, that’s all. I ... I didn’t mean—”

“And what else didn’t you mean?” I sneer. “What other empty human promises are lost now that you’ve decided to make me your Judas?”

“I don’t blame you. I—”

My fist connects with the table, the glassware shaking as my voice turns cold. “Don’t lie to me.”

The restaurant falls silent again.

Charlotte’s eyes go wide, and for a moment she says nothing. She simply stares at me, her chin barely quivering before finally she whispers, “Fine. I won’t.” Abruptly she stands, tossing her napkin onto the table. “I can’t do this with you right now. I can’t.” She stalks away, heading toward the elevator.

But I don’t make a habit of giving my employees the last word.

“Don’t bother to wait up for me this evening,” I say coolly, throwing back the rest of my whisky.

The screams from Hell tonight will be particularly damning.

Charlotte watches me for a beat, for once the hurt and longing in her eyes making me uncertain, making me question if I have done the right thing.

In a way I never would have asked myself before.

Resentment coils like a poisonous viper inside me.

“I wouldn’t have anyway,” she whispers before she turns and leaves.

Leaving me alone with nothing but an empty table, an empty drink, and a heart nearly as hollow as it used to be.

Chapter Eight

Charlotte

I find Imani waiting for me on the ground floor. Olivia, my hired body double, is beside her, dressed in a replica of the custom Dior dress I’m wearing.

“Olivia, could you give us a moment please?”

Olivia smiles before she wanders to the other side of the empty lobby. Lucifer makes a habit of renting out the whole place wherever we go. A small attempt to give us a passing chance at privacy. My face heats at the thought of the concerned waitstaff gawking at us a few minutes ago.

So much for that.

Once Olivia is out of earshot, Imani nods toward the elevator to indicate where Lucifer waits on the sixty-fifth floor. “What the hell was that?”

“Never mind,” I say, another embarrassed flush filling my cheeks. “I’ll explain later.”

“And you no longer being human? You’ll explain that too?”

My eyes go wide, a sudden feeling of heaviness settling inside me. “He told you, apparently?”

“Charlotte.” She drops her head, closing her eyes and exhaling through her nose like she’s trying to find patience. “Please tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me you didn’t agree to that.”

I swallow. “It’s . . . complicated.”

Imani knows the big picture of what happened following the Met Gala, of course. Mark’s attack, Astaroth’s betrayal, and then the unexpected death threat against me. Everyone on Lucifer’s immediate team does. Not to mention there’s been loads of speculation about it all in the media. But Lucifer and I thought it best we keep the more ... celestial details between him and me. No one knows the true nature of the threat, that it was anthrax, except for us.

And whoever sent it, of course.

Another decision I’m suddenly doubting.

“Another time,” I say, placing a reassuring hand on her arm as I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I hate to see her disappointed in me. “But can you meet me for coffee on Thursday? I want to discuss this whole PR-proposal thing.”