Page 23 of Wicked Believer
In this, and all things.
“The PR firm,” I say tersely.
The little idea Charlotte had to expand her role recently. Make a name for herself. Independent from my company.
“What about it?” she asks.
I abandon my glass on the table, leaning back in my chair as I steeple my fingers. “Imani and I believe it may not be the best path for you.”
“You and Imani?” Her eyes dart between us.
As if we’ve been privately conspiring against her, rather than planning an alternative future. One of which she’s far more deserving.
And one that better insulates her from my family.
Charlotte needs to become equally as powerful and influential in her own right.
Imani sighs, shaking her head at me as she gently places her hand over Charlotte’s. “Considering the increasing safety concerns, it may not be the best idea for you to start taking on a list of outside clients right now. Clients that are unknown to us, and Lucifer seems to think that—”
“You can do better.”
Charlotte blinks. “I’m sorry?”
Quiet fury barrels down our connection, though Charlotte’s voice remains soft, breathy.
Hesitating, Imani glances between us before, finally, she sighs again. “Lucifer seems to think it’d be better if we focus on building your individual brand. Clothing lines, skin care, fragrances. You name it. You’ll be a style icon.”
I nod in approval. “Why bother opening a PR firm when you’re destined for something so much greater?”
Charlotte’s eyes go wide. “Destined?”
And evenIrecognize that I have chosen the wrong wording.
I spear her with a reprimanding look. “Charlotte, be reasonable. You’re better than this. You could do so much more with my funding.”
“Withyourfunding?” She unfolds her napkin, tossing it onto her lap as if it’s personally offended her. “What if I don’t want your funding, Lucifer?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t you?” I reach across the table for her hand, but she quickly snatches it away from me. I frown. “I have more money than God. I’m happy to give it to you. The amount means little to me.”
“Oh, the amount meanslittleto you?” Her voice rises in pitch. “Just like the fact that this wasmyidea?Mychoice? The one thing in my life that was still inmycontrol?”
“Charlotte,” Imani says, glancing at the nearby waitstaff, who are now casting concerned glances in our direction.
But my fiancée simply lifts her hand, silencing Imani as if she’s her employer rather than her mentee.
I smirk. Finally, she’s beginning to see.
Even if she hasn’t fully recognized her true power yet.
“Why dismiss me so quickly?” she asks. “My ideas have been worthwhile before.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, little dove. You’re too valuable to be running some paltry PR firm like—”
“Like Imani?”
Imani’s expression goes cold. “Whatever this is, don’t you dare drag me into it.”
Charlotte blushes, looking temporarily embarrassed before she mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry.”
