Page 126 of Wicked Believer
He’s not nearly as playful as the Lucifer I fell in love with, though I haven’t seen much of that side of Lucifer the past few weeks.
My thoughts turn to the dark circles I noted under his eyes the other day, the way the weight of the world seemed to hang on his shoulders.
Not that he’s bothered to confide any of it in me.
And why would he?that awful doubt inside me whispers.
Especially considering I just spent half the morning ogling another man while simultaneously getting my ass handed to me.
Andnotin the fun kind of way.
Maybe I’ve been asking too much of him.
Team No Apocalypse is looking pretty grim at the moment.
“Are you sure Lucifer is okay?” I turn back to Mia, too tired to care that I’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on my lips.
I just can’t shake the feeling there’s something wrong. Like he’s hurt in some way.
Horribly, terribly wrong.
“I told you. He’s fine. You’ll see him later tonight.” She points to a red block on the Calendly schedule that reads “Playroom.”
“So, you’re like my personal assistant now? Is that what this is?”
She frowns at me. “I’m the house manager, and I’ll remain the house manager. This is only a ... temporary reassignment of my duties.”
I snort. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Just like my reassignment as Imani’s assistant was temporary.
Or mine and Lucifer’s initial engagement.
We didn’t even get to talk wedding plans before everything went to hell. Literally.
My amusement turns sour as I trudge after Mia.
“And how do you feel about ... you know?” I gesture around us. “About today’s headlines.”
She scrunches her nose. “About what? The world falling apart?”
I nod.
I’m curious to hear a regular human’s perspective on all this.
“I’m pretty sure the whole world’s been collectively holding their breath and waiting for something like this since the moment Lucifer and the other Originals came topside. Scary shit happens. Life churns on. We’ve all gotten so used to impending doom, we’re just sort of numb to it now.” Mia shrugs.
“Way to be a nihilist,” I mutter.
Though I suppose she has a point.
She leads me down the stairs into the sitting room.
Greed is already there waiting for us, looking as impeccable and indulgent as ever in an elegant side-split shawl dress that matches the Balenciaga clutch she’s holding. From the hang of the material and the sheen of the real-gold buttons, it’s clearly a custom-made Oscar de la Renta that, on her generously curved figure, makes her look like the new age of haute couture.
“Charlotte.” She comes to my side and makes a show of kissing me on both cheeks, without smearing any of her lipstick, before she glances toward Mia, who’s not exactly gawking but is fairly close to it. “Why are you still here?”
Mia takes the hint and quickly collects herself. “Oh, a-apologies, Ms. Apollyon. I’m just a huge fan. That’s all.” She says the word “huge” at the exact moment her eyes land on Mimi’s full chest. She blushes and mumbles something about needing to check on my dry cleaning before she disappears to some other part of the penthouse.
