Page 11 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

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.”

“You really think pushing him on this is a good idea?” She quirks a brow at me.

But the question doesn’t faze me.

I know she values my opinion. She always has.

It’s one of the many things I admire about Imani. Even when I was nothing more than a fresh-faced intern with no idea what was in store for me, she still considered me and my opinions, treated me like I was a valuable member of the team.

Though we both knew I didn’t deserve to be there.

It’s the most grace anyone has ever given me.

I look down, dropping my hands to my sides as I realize I’ve been wringing them together repeatedly.

The whole thing feels a little pathetic in the face of an impending apocalypse.

Futile, if Lucifer doesn’t put a stop to everything his family’s doing.

But I can’t help but think this is the one thing I know how to do, the one thing I know I can control.

“I’ve had to prove myself to him before. What’s one time more?”

Imani’s face softens. “I think you’ve forgotten how that first time went.”

No doubt she means my very first executive meeting, the one where, following my presentation, Lucifer embarrassed me like never before. But in retrospect, it was him who was truly embarrassed.

By his own private admissions, since he wanted me even then.

I blush slightly at the memory.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” I shrug. “My idea worked out in the end.”

“But at what cost?” Imani lifts another brow.

She means the leaked press release. The one that sealed my fate.

The one that eventually led to my lost humanity.

“Worse things have happened to me than having to fake date Lucifer.” I offer a small smile, but it fades quickly.

How I feel about him has never been anything close to fake.

Would he say the same?

I glance down at my hands, suddenly ashamed of the doubt that fills me.

“You say that now that you’re sitting on the throne he’s given you.” Imani shakes her head, but then she takes my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “He’s trying to protect you, you know. With this branding thing. In his own twisted way.”

His “own way,” meaning Lucifer calling the shots on my future career.

Without consulting me.

Another choice that should have been mine to make.

Fate be damned.

I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. Our Dom-sub dynamic is now a twenty-four seven thing, bleeding into all parts of our lives, our careers included. But I took for granted the idea that he would have consulted me on something as significant to my future as this.

Communication in our lifestyle is key.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, struggling to fend off tears.

At least he’s giving me the chance to say my piece. Convince him my ideas are worth the investment. It is his money, after all. Even if I’ve more than earned every penny he’s given me.

“Just bring those investor proposals we talked about on Thursday,” I say to Imani, giving her a tight smile. “Please?”

“You’re asking for trouble trying to go behind his back on this, Charlotte. He’s already given his answer, and you know he doesn’t want outside investors.”

My mouth goes dry, my ribs tightening.

Am I?

For a moment, I doubt myself ...

But then blood rushes to my ears at the thought of how long he suspected we were fated and didn’t tell me. Where was his protection then?

My chest expands on a full breath, strengthening me. “It’s no different than what he’d do to me.”

Imani gives me a side-eyed look. “If you insist. But I won’t keep your secret. Not if he asks.”

“I understand.”

As a mentor, she’s already done more for me than I could ever reasonably expect her to.

“See you, Thursday.” Imani’s nod is decisive as she watches me from the corner of her eye—like she’s seeing a whole new side of me—before finally she shakes her head and exits out onto Sixth Avenue.

Olivia is at my side a second later, like a reflection.

“Ready to leave?” she asks, her smile cheery.

She slips down the Miu Miu sunglasses on top of her head, a copy of my favorite pair, though it’s dark outside—their only purpose is to hide her identity.

I glance toward the exit. Rockefeller Center’s lights shine overhead, illuminating where the paparazzi wait, but even this close, it’s uncanny how much she looks like me.

The golden highlights in her hair. The red undertones of her cheeks.

She could easily be me.

We found her off a private casting call that some of Jax’s Broadway friends helped organize to place some distance between her connection to Lucifer and me.

It didn’t even take a week.

Olivia smiles, waiting for my response, her expression genuine and sweet.

Maybe in another lifetime she and I could have been friends. She clearly wants to be. We’re the same age, the same height, the same body type, and now with Sophie and Xzander’s assistance, the same everything.

Down to the tiniest details.

Except for the whole her being human, and me being, well ...

Divine —the memory of Lucifer’s voice echoes inside my head.

Or whatever it is that I’m becoming.

I offer her a return smile, but it fades quickly.

How easy would it be for Lucifer to replace me?

For his Mother to make someone else for him?

I clutch my purse closer to my chest. “Yeah,” I mumble, too quiet. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Her grin fades. She seems disappointed at my clipped response, at the distance it places between her and me, but it’s better this way. Safer. For us both.

But then she’s back to smiling again. Ever the ray of sunshine.

Just like she was hired to be.

Her job is to smile for the press, after all. Be the perfect me. Something that’s starting to feel like an impossible task these days.

“All right then. Your call.” She gives me a bubbly wave. “See you tomorrow?”

I nod weakly.

I stand out of sight as she heads through the exit door, unsurprised at the flashes that light up outside the center. The sounds of clicking camera shutters and the paparazzi shouting my name follow. But I stand in the background, watching until the door seals shut.

She really could be me.

A short time after Olivia leaves, I exit through the second entrance on the concourse level of 30 Rockefeller Plaza along with several members of the security team, the silence in the mostly empty city center a welcome reprieve.

It isn’t until I ask Dagon to drive me toward mine and Jax’s old apartment in Chinatown that I start to truly question if I’m doing the right thing.

Or if taking control of my own future is just as underhanded as Imani believes it to be.