A Love Song for Lucifer: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Leading Ladies) Page 5

  “Anyway, do you want to join us for a drink?” Cole interjects.

  “Oh, thank you. I’m pretty exhausted from my flight so I think I’ll head to bed but Lumi, you should join.” I still don’t dare to look at Lucien for fear that I won’t be able to hold my anger back any longer.

  “Yes, join us, Lumi. Tell me if you need anything at all, Melody. This has my e-mail and my international phone,” she says while smoothly slipping me her business card.

  “Great. Goodnight, Brooke, Cole, and Lumi.” I say, purposefully leaving out Lucien’s name. I head quickly to the server so I can pay my bill and get the hell out of here.

  And when I’m finally settled and leave to head to my room, I pretend to not notice Lucien’s eye burning on my back and especially ignore the nagging desire to look back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lucien

  I stroll from my suite to Melody’s room. I harassed Cole until he gave me her room number so I can give her an apology, which he witnessed with his own eyes last night is sorely needed. I gave her space yesterday as she must have been exhausted from her flight, but it’s time to confront the little pink she-demon.

  Today, I feel surprisingly light on my feet, although I’m not even sure why. Yesterday, I was my usual grumpy self, yet today is full of something… Ah, yes. That’s it. A game. There is now a game afoot having Melody here. The woman literally kicked me out of her apartment with my pants barely zipped up before she knew who I was. When I confessed, in the form of a very expensive instrument, she never contacted me and blocked me when I contacted her. And now, in person, she has clarified without a doubt that she wants nothing to do with me. Of course I should leave her alone. But there is no damn way that is happening.

  I approach her door and take a breath before knocking. It’s time for me to bring my best moves.

  “Merde, what’s on your face?” I say when she cracks the door open. Okay, not my best start. But Melody is standing before me with black goop covering her face. I trace down the rest of her to understand what’s happening, but instead can only notice that she is wrapped in a thin robe that clings to her curves. The opening exposes the tender slopes of her breasts that are clearly bra-free. She looks like a sexy bog monster and my cock finds it extremely confusing.

  “Man, that sure provides a cold glimpse into your love life if a woman has never felt comfortable enough to do a face mask around you.” She rolls her blue eyes, which are only more accentuated by this monster make-up she has on. “Why are you here and what do you want?” she asks. This is at least better than the slammed door in my face that I was preparing myself for.

  “You know, when your boss comes looking for you, the professional response should be more polite.”

  “Nice try, Lucifer. Brooke stopped that one in its tracks. You lost your chance to be my actual boss, Mr. De la Roche Records.” She says, walking to the bathroom, not inviting me in so I take it upon myself to do it for her. I close the door behind me and glance around. Her room is clean and dimly lit with candles that seem to be the source of the flowery and spicy smell that fills the room. Her bed is made, and she has two white paper stars glowing in each window. Apparently she decorated for the holidays despite it not being her home and it not being the holidays anymore.

  “Did I walk in on a masturbation session or something? Why is the ambiance in here so sexy?”

  She comes out of the bathroom with a clean face but a sour expression. “Again, you’re really illuminating your cold heart. Candles aren’t sexy to a lot of women, they’re cozy.”

  “Well, if you’re willing, I can show you some ways to never think of candles as anything but sexy again.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Let’s make this clear really fast, I will never touch you again now that I know who you are. What are you even doing here?”

  “I figured we should talk.”

  “Sure. It was one stupid night. We were wasted. We weren’t especially nice to each other, even when we were getting naked. We didn’t have sex, so I won’t try to claim some pregnancy is your billionaire heir in 9 months. Am I forgetting anything?” she says cocking her head and looking up in an exaggerated gesture to symbolize thinking, “Oh yeah! You are a heartless asshole who thought he would swing his dick around and crush dreams so he could prove himself to daddy. Talk over. Get out.”

  I push down a laugh. She’s infuriating but funny, I have to give her that. “You clearly considered the billionaire heir thing. Excellent choice not going with it. Paternity tests have kind of killed that whole industry.”

  She shakes her head in annoyance and goes to her closet to pull out a dress. It looks black and tight, and I admit I’m excited to see it on her.

  “Listen, I realized your connection to De la Roche Records after we met. I had no idea, and if it means anything, I’m truly sorry. We’ve adjusted our business plan. We were bleeding out with indie artists that we couldn’t give the proper attention to. You will do better with a smaller label, and I have no doubt you’ll be snatched up by one soon.”

  “I have to get ready for the show,” she says, this time with an even and commanding tone. “So, if that’s all, then please leave.”

  I weigh my options. I want to tell her that sure, we weren’t nice to each other, but we were fucking hot for each other. I want to tell her I’m actually kind of happy she’s here, even if it means dodging her fury. I want to tell her I sent her the lute because I knew she would do awesome things with it and I haven’t been able to stop wondering if she liked it.

  “You also didn’t have enough original music. Developing new music requires a lot more resources that would have been a bad investment on our part,” I say instead. Why the fuck can’t I just shut up? I wanted to explain the logistics behind our choices, to prove that I had a rational reason and wasn’t killing young artists dreams for the pleasure of it all. Yet, now it only sounds like I’m blaming her. Not to mention, it’s not even the whole truth.

  “Do you insist on standing there telling me all the reasons I suck, or will you let me finish getting ready for my show?” she asks glaring at me as she brings a comb through her light pink waves.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I admit that wasn’t my best apology. I’ll keep trying though.” I say softly, noticing the graceful line of her cheekbone as she pushes her hair away from her face with the comb. I wish I could just offer to fuck the forgiveness out of her. I would take on that task as if it was the most important job in the world and wouldn’t slow down until she felt completely worshipped. Yet, I would be lucky at this point if I got a smile from her, let alone an orgasm. “And it was more than just a stupid night to me,” I add before I can stop myself.

  I see her face lighten the slightest at my apology, but her eyes still burn with resentment.

  “Well, I guess I should go.” I look back at her and take her face in as it glances at me, wondering if she only sees a monster. “I’ll be at your show tonight. Look forward to it.” I add before closing the door behind me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lucien

  “Give me the strongest drink the Finns have,” I request to the server.

  “Oh, be careful what you ask for,” Brooke chimes in.

  “Make it a double,” I amend.

  “The apology went over that well?” Cole asks with raised eyebrows.

  I grunt instead of answer.

  “Dude, it’s a girl you barely know. I remember when you were told Steph was on a dating website and you laughed,” Cole adds.

  Yes, my ex who left me for the geriatric lottery ticket didn’t even illicit the slightest reaction in me. I understood what I was getting into from the beginning when I started dating Steph. It was always transactional.

  I needed to look steady and reliable in contrast to my father, who was forced to step down after he got caught cheating on his secretary girlfriend at a company Christmas party. Oh yeah, and with an intern. The board had decided the man’s inability to keep it in his pants was a liab
ility, so I’ve needed to be the opposite. Which isn’t a problem considering I’m too damn busy with running a company. But to add extra assurance, that’s where Steph came in. She made it clear she wanted to marry wealthy, and I made it clear I needed someone on my arm while I took over De la Roche Records.

  And I haven’t even thought about being with someone in a different way. Yet here I am, frustrated as hell over this girl. With Melody, it feels much more complicated. All I know is that she’s got something I want more of. Something I already felt addicted to after one brief encounter. Yet, she’s not even willing to negotiate giving me more. And it’s fucking infuriating.

  I chalk it up to my competitiveness. Melody has unleashed my insatiable need for winning and is the first girl that has actually made it hard. That’s got to be it.

  “What did you do to her, anyway?” Brooke asks as the server sets a dark brown liquid in a snifter in front of me. That’s cute that he assumes I’ll sip it instead of shooting it back. Before he can leave, I throw the liquid to the back of my throat and order another with a beer.

  “Well, let’s see,” I start. “I indirectly offered her a contract that would change her life forever, then tore it up later that week. That same day I crushed her dreams, I found her at a bar, took way too many shots, followed her up to her apartment and puked in her kitchen for about an hour,” I see Brooke’s face crinkle in mortification at my answer, but I’m not even done. “Oh! And then I waited a couple days before I revealed I was the bastard who stomped all over her dreams, just so she knew she had let the big bad wolf directly into her home the one night she was trying to escape me.”

  “Yeah,” Brooke says, still grimacing. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

  “You didn’t know who she was that night,” Cole tries weakly to redeem me.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m a bastard, and inevitably the world should treat me like one. It just so happens Melody is the first person who actually does. I deserve it, so I’m not sure why I’m even trying to be redeemed.”

  “Did you guys hook up?” Brooke asks straight-forwardly, clearly trying to understand the entirety of the situation.

  “Me not being able to hold my liquor is apparently not a seductive quality for Mel,” I say, using her nickname without her here only because I like how it feels on my lips.

  Before I can get interrogated any further, a smooth voice drips down the wood walls and into my ears, spiking the hairs on my arm to attention. Melody. She has slinked her way to the stage and jumped immediately into her performance. It’s a dramatic effect that works. The entire room quickly goes silent, making room for Melody’s enormous voice. Eyes everywhere dart to her, transfixed. Especially mine.

  “You weren’t kidding. She’s amazing,” Brooke whispers.

  “You think this song is for you, Luc?” Cole chimes in.

  I was so distracted by her voice that I didn’t realize what song she was singing, a cover of “You Don’t Own Me”. She’s certainly mastered the feisty songs.

  An old couple gets up to dance along with the music and she smiles at them. I get a flashback to me on her couch playing for her, when I was on the receiving end of that smile and how good it felt. Her small encouragement bleeds out into the crowd and gets more people to get up and dance, in a way only a true performer can do.

  “You let her go? I thought you’re supposed to be good at your job,” Brooke accuses me while still transfixed on Melody.

  I shoot back my second brown snifter instead of responding.

  Melody continues to sing, alternating between upbeat and slow songs. She has quickly transformed the ambience in this large room in the middle of the Arctic into something so much richer and intimate. For me, it’s both pleasure and pain watching her. I am lucky to be this close to her, but I feel inappropriately jealous that I have to share her with all these people.

  “You are a truly great crowd,” Melody addresses the room for the first time. “My name is Melody and I’ll be performing here all week. I’m so happy to share this cold, beautiful corner of the world with you during this time.” She pauses and twists the microphone in her hand before looking back up at the crowd. She continues speaking with a saccharine smile that can only mean trouble. “This next song is dedicated to someone in this room. He’ll know who he is.”

  She strums her guitar.

  “Uh oh,” Brooke says, stifling a laugh. “This one is definitely for you.”

  Even I recognize the beginnings of this song. Shania Twain.

  I stare at her, daring her to look back at me. If you’re going to play this game, Mel, the least you can do is look me in the eye while you do it.

  Then she does. She locks eyes with me as she sings.

  “Oh-oh, you think you’re special. Oh-oh, you think you’re something else… Okay, so you’re a billionaire.” I hear Brooke’s snorting laugh at this. Melody actually changed the lyrics.

  “That don’t impress me much,” she sings with a sly smile. This damn woman.

  Brooke is in a fit of laughter, while Cole is smiling too fucking wide.

  I sit through the next chorus and slip in another drink order.

  She changed the second chorus to, “Okay, so you’re French.” She continues, not even attempting to hide how much pleasure she is getting from singing about how unimpressed she is.

  Finally, one more shot down my throat positions me into the third chorus. “Okay, so you own this hotel. That don’t impress me much.”

  Brooke is straight up cheering at this point, and Melody is having way too much fun on the stage. In fact, everyone is having too much fun. It’s a song that almost everyone knows the lyrics to, but when the chorus comes around they all quiet down to hear Melody’s creative liberties, even if they don’t understand them. This only emphasizes her saying how unimpressed she is with me to a room full of people. With Melody’s direct gaze at me and Cole patting me on the back, I’m pretty sure not one person in the room has any confusion about who this song is about.

  That’s when I realize something. Melody resents me for the power she thinks I hold, but this only proves what I’ve known since I walked into that bar in Brooklyn. She is the one with all the power. She has a gift that gives her more leverage in this world than anything my family could hand over to me.

  I know that should make me want to back down, even admit I’m not worthy of her, which I’m not. But that’s not a fucking option. It feels too good to actually want something, someone, for the first time I can remember in too long.

  So if she’s mad at me for using my power on her, it’s possible she can forgive me when she realizes she’s the one who has much more power than I could ever dream of. And then, just maybe, I can finally have something in my life that’s worth getting.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Melody

  There is a euphoria that comes with performing. It’s only grown as I’ve become more experienced at it. At first my nerves were so overbearing it was hard to feel anything but nervousness. Now, it puts me into a state that I can’t reach with anything else in my life. Even though my performance tonight was only for a few dozen people, it was an engaged crowd and that makes for almost ideal conditions. It would have been truly ideal if it were my own songs that I was singing.

  Oh, and if Lucien wasn’t in the crowd. Even though seeing his face when I sang about him was one of the more satisfying moments I’ve had in a long time.

  I expect to slip away from the end of my performance unbothered, but Brooke has other plans.

  “You’re my superhero.” She says slipping her arm through mine. “Seriously, I don’t know why I wasted two hours watching Wonder Woman when I could have just gone to one of your shows and watch men being decimated in real life.”

  I let out a loud laugh at this. Partly because it’s hilarious and partly because I’m relieved. “I’m so glad you’re not mad. I know that’s not exactly standard for a performance.”

  “Oh, please,” she continues. “You’ve
got free rein. We’re lucky to have you. Not to mention, the guests were thoroughly entertained. As was I.”

  She’s drags me to the table she’s been at all night. It is filled with people that I haven’t met yet. The only recognizable faces are Cole and, of course, Lucien.

  “You up for a drink with us? My treat?” Brooke asks cheerily.

  Before I answer, I note the table set-up. It’s possible for me to sit in a way where I would face Cole and Brooke and not even see Lucien, who is in conversation with some pretty blonde girl, anyway.

  “Yeah, sure,” I agree after barely stopping myself from adding the clause, ‘as long as Lucifer doesn’t join us.’

  I lower myself into the chair, taking a deep breath to unwind as I always need to do after performing. But when I hear a smooth French accent coming from next to me, I realize that relaxation isn’t going to come quite yet.

  In a few short seconds, Lucien has managed to end his conversation with the blonde, pull up a chair annoyingly close to me, and begin a loud conversation with Cole who is sitting next to Brooke.

  I don’t bother looking at him, as this is what he wants and because I hate how I immediately recognize his cologne which lingered on my sheets for days. I don’t dare bring my nose any closer. I resent the treacherous hidden part of me in the pit of my core that lights up at the scent.

  I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, Lucien interjects.

  “I feel really lucky to have seen your entire set this time,” he says, rushed and awkward while turning to face me. It takes me off-guard. The smooth and cocky man I’ve used for target practice in my brain all of a sudden reminds me of myself anytime someone asked me to read in front of the class in elementary school.

  I see Brooke and Cole are clearly confused too. Both their heads cocked and eyebrows knitted, as if Lucien has begun speaking in Elvish.