Page 60 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Fifty

Charlotte

It’s the morning of our family brunch, and my nerves couldn’t be any higher.

I flit around the table, fiddling with various aspects of the fall-themed centerpiece and straightening the napkins and silverware for what has to be the hundredth time within the past twenty minutes.

My whole body feels like it’s vibrating with energy, even though there’s not much left to do.

Mia stands off to the side of the table, her tablet in hand. It didn’t take much to convince her not to report the finer details of our family get-together to Lucifer, because I want to tell him myself when I’m ready.

All I had to promise was that I’d let her sit at the table with us next to Greed.

Now that she’s serving as my personal assistant and I’m getting to know her, I’m starting to think the idea of her and Lucifer together wasn’t just a projection of my own insecurity but categorically incorrect on several levels.

If her fangirlish obsession with Mimi is any indication, she might have no interest in men, actually.

The idea has warmed me to her considerably.

Which may be something I have to work out in therapy.

“Hey, Mia, do you remember when we first met in the foyer a few weeks back?”

Mia snorts. “Yeah, I remember.”

I adjust one of the French porcelain plates from our Sèvres dinner set. “Well, when you said that you’d been handling Lucifer’s household affairs long before I got here, what did you mean?”

Mia shrugs, glancing down at her tablet like she doesn’t want to look at me. “I guess I was just taking a snipe at you, to imply that you and Lucifer weren’t going to last long.”

“Why’s that?”

Mia rolls her eyes. “Because I was pissed you didn’t remember me.”

“Remember you?”

She sighs, shifting her stance. “We met on the first day you and Lucifer debuted. I was there to organize Xzander and Sophie’s teams. I only said a few words to you, and I know you had to have been introduced to at least forty other people that day, but it .

.. made me feel small, insignificant, and I . ..”

I rush forward, pulling her into a hug before she can finish.

“I’m sorry. I wish you’d have said something sooner.”

I pull back and see she’s blushing. “I was embarrassed.”

I nod, understanding. “I know what it’s like to be one of the staff. How it feels like you’re background noise in the face of so much power and celebrity. I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I forgot where I came from for a moment.”

Mia smiles softly. “Apology accepted.”

“Though to be clear”—I pull back, still holding her shoulders—“you and Lucifer have never ...”

“Ugh, no.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m into women exclusive—”

Her voice trails off as Greed enters the room, the first among our guests to arrive.

I press my lips together, stifling a grin as I mumble, “Yeah, I thought so,” before I turn toward Greed.

“Mimi, thanks for coming.” I kiss both her cheeks before she can get a word in edgewise.

“Have you met my new assistant, Mia? She’s a big fan of yours, and I bet she’d love to hear about all the rare statues of Sappho you’ve collected to decorate your office.

” I give Mia an encouraging push in Greed’s direction. Her eyes grow wide, and she flushes.

Lucifer’s other siblings start to arrive after that, thanks to the celestial loophole in the penthouse’s security that I still haven’t spoken to Lucifer about.

Not that there’s anything either of us could really do about it now.

He and Azrael are off on some mission this afternoon related to finding where his Father’s blade, the Holy Lance, last resided before Michael managed to get his hands on it, in hopes that it might lead to getting the blade back, which I’m pretty sure Lucifer believes is step one of restoring his power.

They won’t return home until later tonight for our engagement-turned-play-party.

I was expressly ordered not to leave the penthouse for any reason while they were both out, but Lucifer said nothing about inviting others in .

Once the Originals who RSVP’d have arrived and everyone has our brunch’s custom cocktail in hand—an apple-cider mimosa made from a blend of Champagne Brut Go?t de Diamants and freshly pressed Honeycrisp apples from upstate (Gluttony really took my suggestion of doing something harvest/autumn themed to heart)—we all tuck in.

Bel—a.k.a. Sloth—is the one Original I didn’t manage to get in attendance, though when I mention this to Wrath, who sits to my right, he snorts and says, “You honestly expected him to come to you? That’s too much work for him.”

I chuckle like I’m in on the joke, mentally trying to calm my nerves.

A huge chunk of the world’s monetary wealth is concentrated in this room, which is both a grim and incredibly depressing thought—capitalist hellscapes for the win—and that’s not even considering the divine side of the power all the Originals hold.

Honestly, I’m counting myself lucky that I managed to get even this many of them to show up.

Wrath and Envy are only here because Azmodeus called this in as part of a “small favor” they owed him, and apparently, he’s willing to help me out now that he’s my new “gay bestie.” Or maybe he just really wants to fuck with Lucifer.

That’s also a distinct possibility.

I spend most of brunch listening to Wrath complain at length about some supply chain issues one of his aerospace holdings is facing connected to the new virus in China.

I’m pretty definite the virus is a result of Lucifer unleashing Pestilence from whatever—prison?

cage? Hell if I know what—he was being held in.

Meanwhile, as I’m trying not to spiral from thinking about that, I simultaneously try to nurse Envy’s, well, envy, over the fact Wrath keeps dominating the conversation and speaking over both him and me.

I still haven’t found a way for Lucifer to make amends to me for breaking open the first seal.

Even if he was doing it for the right reasons all along, it still resulted in him being stripped of his powers, and more importantly, he lied to me about it.

Or, at the very least, encouraged me to think the worst of him by omitting lots of details.

It’s hard not to be angry about the fact that he fucked the world over so thoroughly and now has none of the power needed to fix it.

Now that he’s powerless, it’s not like he can continue with his plan to play Michael’s game to show his other siblings what a monster Michael is and convince some of his old angelic lieutenants to come to his side of the celestial divide.

That part’s going to be up to me now.

And Michael will no doubt find some other way to open the seals without him.

God had to have known what He was doing and built some sort of fail-safe, since Lucifer being stripped of his power was His proclamation, after all.

I just haven’t figured out exactly what that is yet.

Which is why this brunch has become even more important to me.

If Lucifer can’t regain his powers, the whole of Team No Apocalypse may come down to this. To me.

To my pitch to get all Lucifer’s siblings on our side.

No pressure or anything.

We’re nearing the end of the third course, and I’ve been absorbed in trying to keep Envy from throttling Wrath while simultaneously popping down to the far end of the table to be a good hostess.

Azmodeus brought no less than three of his latest fuck buddies, which completely messed with my seating arrangement, making navigating between them all infinitely more difficult.

At the very least, Greed seems mildly amused by Mia in the same way a normal person would be with someone else’s child or maybe a yapping puppy they’re unable to escape, and Envy looks temporarily appeased.

Meanwhile, I thank and praise Gluttony for his culinary skills on one of the few occasions he’s popped into the room.

Together like this, they’re all so much , I haven’t been able to concentrate enough to truly enjoy anything.

I send up a silent prayer that Gluttony doesn’t notice my less-than-wholehearted offerings. Thanks to my anxiety, my stomach hates me lately.

I’m headed back to my seat, dreading the moment we all know is coming—my pitch—as I overhear Azmodeus say something to one of his partners about an upcoming thing he has at Sloth’s Hampton beach house.

Apparently, Bel’s throwing a huge after-party following the CFDA Awards, and I make a mental note to do whatever the hell it takes to secure an invite for myself. I don’t care if I have to suck Lucifer off every night for a week in order to make it happen, I will get that VIP invite.

Honestly, that doesn’t sound like a half-bad outcome.

I can imagine having to do a lot worse to secure a spot.

Bel wouldn’t want to snub me, after all, would he?

I am his future sister-in-law.

And one of the most sought-after celebrities in the city.

I inhale a sharp breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to do, as I lift my glass to make a toast, accidentally shattering it in my shaking hand.

Shit.

“Someone still doesn’t know their own divine strength,” Az quips, and the whole table laughs as he shoots a reproachful look toward Mimi.

“It’s not my fault she’s practically untrainable.”

“I am not untrainable.” I frown.

“Once a brat, always a brat.” She grins.

“Enough about Charlotte,” Levi says. He plays it off as if he’s coming to my defense, but we all know it’s because he’s jealous I’m suddenly hogging all the attention.

“It’s fine.” I pat his hand like I appreciate the effort.

“No, it isn’t, I can feel you wanting to throttle Mimi from here.” Wrath cracks his neck, relaxing like he’s just had his chiropractor adjust him or enjoyed a full-service massage. The off-the-book kind. “Lot of pent-up rage you got there, Charlotte. Care to let it out?”