Page 22 of Wicked Believer
But I don’t need her to come to my defense.
Not when I’m still struggling with what she said to me the other evening.
I know more than a thing or two about words said in anger, about giving voice to things one does not mean. Hell is full of the pleading cries of those who will say and do anything for an ounce of mercy, who, even in their pain, feel no true remorse.
Not until I get a hold of them, you see.
But the idea that all I have given her, all I have done might not be enough ...
It guts me.
In a way not even my Father’s rejection ever could.
I frown and bring my glass to my lips as I give a subtle push against our connection.
Charlotte’s eyes widen like she feels me, but then she shuts me out just as quickly.
Though if she’s aware of the exchange, she doesn’t appear to be.
“Well, whatever you’re doing to engage your followers, Charlotte, keep doing it. It reflects well on the company. You’re making my job easy.”
Charlotte beams, though there’s a reluctance in her expression that wasn’t there previously.
The pleasure she takes at her efforts being recognized is no surprise to me. Praise is a tool I use frequently when she submits to me, but whatdoessurprise me is the pride I find there. A subtle offering to me. A white flag of surrender, if you will.
Though she’s still uncertain after our fight. I can feel it.
As I am with her, of course.
More than ever before.
“With the CFDA Awards only a few weeks away and you two hosting, we need to start planning. The Council of Fashion Designers won’t be happy if we throw another Met Gala–size wrench into their fashion calendar,” Imani says, glancing hesitantly between Charlotte and me again. Like she can sense the silent volley of communication but doesn’t dare mention it. “Though both your respective teams seem to have it well in hand.”
Charlotte nods but then lifts a brow toward me. “Are we really going to go through with all that, considering ...?”
I give her a meaningful look, and she nods, understanding instantly.
Even in the face of my Father’s apocalypse, the show must go on.
The less humanity knows, the better.
“Right.” Charlotte nods. “I’m supposed to meet Xzander for another fitting in the morning. His schedule’s just been so busy withImpact’s Black Advisory Board, but Olivia’s headed there tonight.”
The undiscovered human actress we hired as Charlotte’s decoy.
A body double meant to deter the paparazzi.
A more than necessary expense, considering theirs and the Righteous’s ever-increasing threats to her safety.
My Father’s impending apocalypse isn’t the only peril that’s been leveled at us recently.
“Good. You could use a break,” Imani says. “The press has been circling like sharks.”
“And?” I prompt, urging Imani to get to the next part of the dossier that made me ask her to join us this evening.
“AndLucifer had two other points he wanted to discuss,” she says, swiftly closing her portfolio. “Didn’t you, Lucifer?” She gives me an incisive look, one that seems to implytread lightly, though I can’t begin to fathom why.
I get what I want. Always.
