CHAPTER 1
For as long as she could remember, Charlie spent most of her life in front of a camera. Starting from the very bottom, casted in petty kids' commercials, she worked her way up the barbed ladder to bigger roles.
Without her mother in the picture, and her father rarely around, Charlie was ultimately raised by the people she worked under. Occasionally, her father assigned a caretaker for her, when he remembered to. Unfortunately, the industry is evil and traumatizing; they took advantage of her lack of supervision, and regrettably she didn't make it through childhood unscathed.
Nevertheless, she continued to work hard, driven by ambition and an unyielding desire to make it big. To be completely honest with herself, she had fully expected the production industry to cater to her because of her last name, though that was not always the case.
Through her later teenage years, she played fill-ins for crime shows and minor side characters on sitcoms. Over time, it seemed as though they favored her. Perhaps she was pretty and talented enough for them to want more. Perhaps it was just her last name.
While working on set, Charlie was spotted and ultimately adored by a famous producer, with plenty of influence in the industry. He saw her and loved her and knew the audience would too.
At this point in her young life, she had finally landed her first lead role in an upcoming television series. Though it was just another lame show, she was thrilled to claim the spotlight for once.
It had only been a couple of months after signing a contract for this particular show when Charlie met someone who altered the trajectory of her career, and her life, forever.
She's at a small meet and greet event, signing autographs and taking photos with fans of her past shows and her new, current series. A woman in high-end, business attire approaches her, not for a signature, but instead a proposal offer, to meet someone 'important.' Someone who is apparently so important that they need someone else to initiate an introduction for them.
"Good evening, Ms. Morningstar. I am here on behalf of the owner and CEO of VoxTek Enterprises," the woman introduces herself with a cold, monotone voice, her face unreadable behind steel rimmed aviators. "I am pleased to inform you of a request for your presence in a formal meeting, at your earliest convenience," she then stops for a moment to listen to the blinking Bluetooth in her ear, "directly after the event has ended, would be most preferable." She adds with a fake smile.
The owner of VoxTek wants to meet with me? What possibly for? Charlie's a member of the royal family, but it's usually her father whom all these elite, high status individuals desire to meet so badly. Never her.
"Oh, wow, VoxTek? I-I'm honored! Uh I mean, absolutely. I'm totally available for a meeting. I'll be done here in about an hour."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Morningstar. I'll see you shortly."
Charlie's expecting a brightly lit room, full of clean elites in suits with clipboards, seated at a huge U-shaped desk; a formal, official atmosphere.
She could not have been more wrong.
When she walks in, there's not a soul in the room, besides the boss himself. The overhead lights are off, yet a bright, colorful glow of screens bleed over the shadows.
He's relaxed in a massive, dramatic rolling chair that implies utmost authority. His shoes are kicked up on his desk. A steaming mug of coffee is in one hand, and in the other he's clicking a remote, lazily flipping through different stations on a wall of hundreds of monitors.
"Oh, hellooo," he sits up immediately as she steps into the room, one of his red and blue eyes whirling at the sight of her.
"Hi, um, sorry, I—" she struggles to maintain his powerful gaze, and glances nervously around the lonely room.
"What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, princess!" He exclaims with reassuring charm, slamming his mug down on his desk so the coffee jumps.
"I-I really can't thank you enough, uh Mr—"
"Please, please, you can call me Vox," he smiles wide, his sharp teeth catch a gleam of light. There was something hungry about his energy.
"It's truly an honor to meet you. I've been hearing your name for as long as I can remember, but…I-I never thought I would ever get the opportunity to actually speak to you," she tries her best not to sound so starstruck, regardless, she had certainly stroked his ego.
"Well, I'll be damned," he laughs, getting up from his chair and begins to wander around his desk, "If I had known the princess of Hell was such a big fan, I would have arranged for this meeting a long time ago."
"So, uh, what exactly did you want to speak with me about?" She asks awkwardly.
He gives her a sly smile before clicking his remote and the entire wall, hundreds of bright LED screens before her change to…her?
It's a variety of her scenes in different shows, playing different roles.
She doesn't know what to say. With some effort she tears her gaze away from the vast array of clips of herself, back to Vox's unfaltering, sharp grin. He had somehow managed to silently slip right beside her without her noticing until now.
"I love broadcasting you, babes," he beams down at her, a sinister element haunting his smile, his words. "You have some of the highest fucking ratings on the air right now. The shit they're saying about you…"
"Me?" She can't believe her ears.
"Trust me. You are exactly what the audience wants," a twinkle of promise fills his glowing cyan eyes.
"All I've ever wanted was to make a name for myself," she says hopefully, "I don't just want to be Lucifer's daughter anymore. I want to be my own person, have my own image."
"Yeah? Well, I can make all of that happen," his confidence is inspiring, and she's hooked.
"Okay…um, what do I have to do?"
"Oh, that's the easy part, sweetheart. All you have to do is sign this tiny little contract and I'll take care of everything from there."
"Hm. Contract. Okay, well…let me take a look at it."
"Nothing too much to worry your pretty little head about…" his tone changes and he suddenly seems so bored, even annoyed, "but here, take a seat, I'll let you skim through it."
She sits down across from him.
As she begins to read over the first page, she catches him watching her with mild interest.
"Can I get you something? A cup of coffee?" he asks casually, as she meets his cool gaze.
"Oh, no thank you, it's too late in the day for all that caffeine," she says and tries to go back to reading the strategically complex content of the contract.
"How about a cocktail? Hm? Martini?" He snaps his fingers and a little robot on wheels coasts into the room in the blink of an eye, stopping right before her.
On its small silver tray, it offers a perfect, ice-cold Martini, with fresh olives and everything. Beside it, a generous shot of Baileys, which Vox does not waste any time to add to his coffee.
"Uh, thank you," she takes the glass and is immediately drawn to sip on it. It's the most delightful thing she's ever tasted.
"Here at VoxTek, we get the finest liquor in all of Hell," he smiles again at her, those sharp teeth making her stomach twist in a funny way. "We only associate with the finest quality."
"Wow. It really is the best martini I've ever had," she glances back down to the contract after taking another sip, trying to make sense of the words that seem to be switching places with one another.
"Good."
"I really want to thank you, Vox, I really needed some kind of big break to get my career kickstarted and I just know this is it. I'm excited to start working with you. Seriously, thank you so much for this opportunity."
"Well, you have to sign that silly thing first or legally I can't do anything for you. But I guess that's never really mattered before."
She glances back down at the document. Skimming through it, everything seemed ethical enough. She had signed tons of these types of documents before. Contracts for new managers, contracts for networks and shows; this was nothing new.
"Alright. You'll make me a star?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
No time is wasted in putting her to work. At the same time as filming her first ever series, Vox piles more and more on her plate and has her casted in a major action film, produced by one of the biggest labels in the industry.
Just as she thinks she has reached her workload limit, he has her casted in yet another huge film, as the lead female role. It's a romance flick, based on a famous book. A guaranteed box office hit, Vox had told her, if she can play her role well enough.
This takes over her whole life. She takes these roles very seriously. It's her utmost goal to make an everlasting impression on Hell's Hollywood. This will be the perfect opportunity to show off her talent.
When she isn't on set or skipping around hell with Vox, she's working on herself. Every single free hour she has, she makes count, hardly giving herself enough time to sleep. She doesn't care if she's spreading herself too thin.
Every day she dedicated as many hours as possible to rehearsing her lines, testing out different tactics to make herself cry, practicing screaming, practicing gasping. She perfected her fake laugh until it sounded authentically humored, until Vox finds out, then hires an acting coach.
She works out too much, pushing her body to the point of exhaustion, obsessed with toning her dainty figure, constantly refining any gymnastic skills this action role she's playing might require, obsessed with pleasing her fitness trainer, but most importantly, obsessed with pleasing Vox.
"You're working so hard, it hasn't gone unnoticed," he says to her one day before the filming of a scene in her upcoming action film.
She loves how it feels to hear him say that.
"I've been trying my heart out," she admits, proud of herself for once.
"So, this is where the overlords usually hang out?" Charlie asks, unable to hide the edge in her tone. There was an ominous energy about the luminescent neon building that towered over her.
"Yes," Vox glances at her, picking up on her tension easily, "just stay right beside me, don't say anything stupid and you'll be fine."
There are two, big, cyclops bouncers wearing expensive suits with Bluetooth earpieces in, standing on either side of the massive front doors, checking people in from a predetermined list. They survey Charlie curiously, however, greet Vox with friendly familiarity as he guides the princess in beside him, his sharp, glowing claws teasing the small of her back.
The club is dimly lit and full of people. A thick cloud of smoke hangs in the air making it subtly challenging to breathe. The dark music has a deep electronic beat that rumbles through her body.
There's a round table with a handful of demons occupying the couch wrapped around it, which Vox guides Charlie over to, a protective hand still coaxing her through the club.
"Voxxy, baby, so good to see you, and this must be Ms. Charlie Morningstar…my god, you failed to mention to me how beautiful she is," Valentino takes her hand and kisses it, ravishing all the way up her forearm. "It's very, very nice to meet you, my sweet princess."
Before she could even reply, Vox yanks her away, a little too quickly, out of the other demon's reach.
"She's starring in a couple of upcoming films put out by some of my biggest production companies," he brags, guiding her to the edge of the couch right beside himself, furthest from where Valentino had been sitting. Only he doesn't leave her much room, strategically forcing her to sit almost halfway on his lap.
Valentino doesn't fail to notice this either.
"Hmm, what kind of films?" he teases, giving Charlie a wicked little grin from across the table.
Before she can open her mouth, Vox is answering for her again, "Oh, only a gory, action-packed adventure I'm going to have them make a fucking trilogy for," he gloats, "And I have her starring in an upcoming romance film based off that stupid book, and get this, we casted Ryan Cannibal for the male lead. The box office'll be through the fucking roof opening weekend."
A waitress in a revealing corset takes a drink order from Vox as she passes by. He orders for both him and Charlie and she has no idea what it is.
"Don't worry, you'll like it," he mumbles to her.
"I love a good romance film," Valentino chimes, looking directly at Charlie through his pink shades. The ravenous note haunting his voice makes her skin crawl.
"Oh, I'm sure you do," Vox scoffs.
"I suggest you save any full-frontal shots for a bit later down the road, not without her being more established as an actress, at least," Valentino's hungry eyes scanned over her body.
She shifts a little on Vox's lap, wishing she had worn something a little less revealing.
"She's not playing those kinds of roles," Vox interjects.
"Can't the lady speak for herself?"
Vox chuckles casually. "You'll excuse us, won't you, old friend?" Vox gently nudges her out of the booth and guides her outside.
It had been so crowded and noisy in the club, when she's finally alone with him, that moment of isolation really does feel a lot heavier.
When they step outside the club doors, the cool mist of rain kisses her skin in the most comforting way, and she's reminded of anything nice she's ever felt. They follow a bend beneath the balcony wrapped around the second story of the building, further away from everyone else.
Her stomach twists. She always did like that funny feeling she got whenever she was alone with him.
"How's my little money-making machine?" He purrs, leaning against the brick wall as he lights a cigarette.
Droplets of silver rain drip off carnivorous, hanging plants beneath the chipped wooden railing.
"Fucking great," she had taken some kind of pill with him earlier, however it's evident it's hitting her a lot harder. "This is such a cool club, and Valentino seems…nice."
"Yeah, really nice. Entitled prick never knows when he's gone too far. But he knows the business well, knows what sells and what doesn't. At least we have that in common. Don't take everyone he says seriously, alright?" He lights her cigarette for her.
"Ok." She looks up at him, shyly. "Um, Vox?"
"What's up, kid," he doesn't meet her eye, for a moment, he's distracted by a notification from his phone, before the heavy slice of silence filling the space between them becomes too noticeable. He finally looks at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong. I just—I know this is just business and all but do you…are we friends?" she stammers, and her face feels a little warm.
"Friends?" This seems to catch him off guard and he freezes for a second, then he offers her a hollow chuckle, beaming at her so his plasma glows a bit brighter, "You could call it that."
Charlie will not admit it, but she's mildly disappointed with his answer. For some wild, unknown reason, she wishes he was more interested in forming a bond with her.
"Hey, listen, babes," he stops leaning against the wall and throws an arm around her, pulling her close. "All that really matters is that I'm looking out for you and I'm here for you."
She can't control the smile that lights up her face.
"There, is that what you wanted to hear?" He smirks down at her.
"That's all a girl can dream of," she jokes, taking a drag off her cigarette.
"You know they say, I'm made of dreams."
"Are you now?" She can't help but laugh. An overwhelming sense of gratitude fills her chest, and she almost wants to cry.
"Thank you, Vox. Just—thank you for everything!" She throws her arms around his neck, forcing the tall demon into a hug.
Vox halfheartedly returns the embrace, throwing a loose arm around her waist.
"Don't mention it," he takes a long drag from his cigarette in the other hand.
He's cold, she thinks, nuzzling against his chest, before releasing him.