Bad Girl: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Lisa Lace

He slams into me harder, faster, grunting louder, pinning my arms to the mattress. He groans, and I see his head go back as his orgasm crushes him and lays him down over me.

  Lucas

  I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of Ivy in the soft morning light. Her skin is completely bare, her fists tucked up beneath her chin, and her legs curled up toward her chest. Every inch of her is perfection.

  I close my eyes for a moment to remember how that skin felt beneath my hands. When I breathe in and smell the scent of her perfume, still lingering on her skin, I can almost feel her body against mine once again.

  I can’t remember the last time a woman stayed the night.

  Very few make it into my inner sanctuary, and far fewer make it to the morning. I usually conduct my trysts in hotel rooms or in the stateroom of my yacht. My personal space is reserved for the things and people in my life that aren’t just passing through.

  God knows I’d love to spend another night with her.

  She stirs, and when she wakes up and sees me, she smiles, lets out a little squeal and curls into a tighter ball before stretching out as long as she can, wiggling her toes, which are peeking out from under the duvet.

  She sits up, pushing back the wild ringlets of her hair. “What time is it?”

  “Almost eleven.”

  Ivy gasps. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Why, do you have somewhere to be?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Then relax. There’s no rush.”

  I wriggle across the bed toward her and wrap my arm around her lower back. She doesn’t move away, but I can see she looks uncomfortable. It’s a far different response than she gave me last night, when I felt connected to her on a new and deeper level than most woman I’ve ever spent the night with. She covers herself with the sheets.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She bows her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shrugs. “I don’t know. Morning came so quickly, that’s all.”

  “It’s the start of another day. We can go for breakfast if you like.”

  Ivy shakes her head, forcing a quick, polite smile. “Thank you, but I think I’d best get going. Dad needs help to do his morning exercises. He’ll be wondering why I’m so late.”

  “You can simply tell him you were busy having the night of your life.”

  She lets out a long breath and looks at me over her shoulder. There’s an expression of guilt on her face, her eyebrows drawn together apologetically. “You know this was a one-night thing, right? I don’t want things to get complicated.”

  “Complicated how? I’m single, you’re single. What’s complicated about that?”

  “You’re you, and I’m me, Lucas. We’re from two different worlds. Besides, my dad would never forgive me if I dated you.”

  I scoff, feeling a sudden flare of anger. I push the sheets off and step out of bed. “How old are you, again? Do you really need your father’s approval of who you see? You don’t need his approval to screw someone, but anything more serious than that and suddenly you need his permission? You’re acting like I’m the skeevy one, but you’re the one who’s drawing all these lines that don’t need to be there. I’d actually like to take you out sometime.”

  Ivy rolls her eyes. “Do all your serious relationships start by jumping into bed? You hardly gave me the impression you were looking for a long-term relationship, Lucas. I haven’t led you on. You’re just used to getting what you want.”

  “There you go again. What’s your problem? Last night we were talking and getting along, now you’re attacking me. It’s not my fault if you made a decision you regret. Don’t paint me as someone who couldn’t take no for an answer. You didn’t have to come here. It was you who wanted to be Cinderella for a night. I guess I just didn’t account for you fleeing like a spoiled princess, too.”

  “Jesus Christ, Lucas! Are you always like this? I had a nice time last night, but anything more would be too messy.”

  I shake my head. “This is about our fathers again, isn’t it?”

  Ivy’s body slumps, and she gazes up at me helplessly. “Yes, but it’s more than that, too. I didn’t sleep with you to get a record deal, and I don’t want it to look like I did.”

  “I know you didn’t sleep with me for a deal. Christ, until I took off the mask, you didn’t even know who I was and you would have come home with me then. If I offer you a record deal, it’s because you’re talented. Don’t read any more into it than that.”

  She lets out a sigh and holds up a hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch about everything. I just got carried away last night, and I need some time to figure out what the hell I’m doing. I’ve got to think about Jane in all of this. I need to keep things professional, for her sake.”

  “I don’t think Jane is your real concern. It’s your father.”

  “I can’t help it. You haven’t walked in my shoes. You don’t know what we’ve been through, and it all began the day your father started Fox Records.” She gestures around the room. “We haven’t been living in mansions with money growing on trees. Times have been really hard, Lucas. Whether it’s fair or not, my dad blames Fox Records, and I don’t know if he’d ever think of me the same if I went into business with you.”

  “You know, I’m not sure your father’s version of events is the whole truth. I spoke with my own father. His story is a little different.”

  Ivy purses her lips. “So you’ve told me.”

  “Somewhere between their two stories is the truth, but it’s not up to us to figure it out. It’s their drama, not ours.”

  “What happened with Fox Records broke my dad. He hasn’t been the same since. We lost everything, and despite it all, he was always there for me. When my mom took off, Dad raised me on his own, even though he didn’t have two cents to rub together. It feels like spitting in his face to even be here.”

  “I’m sure your father cares about your career more than he cares about some decades-old feud with my father.”

  Ivy raises a hand helplessly. “You’d think, but whatever happened back then has left a very deep scar.”

  “And what about Jane, hmm? Two minutes ago you were talking about how you had to walk away from me for her sake. For her sake, you should be snapping up my offer. I’m offering you two a real opportunity.”

  “You said you don’t mix business with pleasure, Lucas. Don’t start pitching me now.”

  “Why not? You clearly don’t want to give me the time of day as a person, so I might as well switch back into music producer mode. No matter what happened last night, the fact stands that you have real talent, and I want to nurture that.”

  Ivy steps out of bed and into last night’s dress. She pulls her hair around over one shoulder and walks toward me. She presses her palms against my chest and looks up into my eyes. My anger softens.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I’m brushing you off. The truth is, last night was incredibly special to me, and I really like you. You’re interesting, and despite this hard-nosed act you put on, I know you’ve got a sensitive, creative side I wish I could discover more about. But I don’t think this path is going to lead us anywhere. There’s so much bad blood between our fathers, and I have to be loyal to mine. He’s done everything for me.”

  “Your father’s holding you back, and your loyalty is going to cost you.”

  She blinks back tears. “I know.” She sniffs as she gathers up the last of her things. “Let me think a while, okay? Last night was a whirlwind, and none of it feels real. I need to look at this thing in the cold light of day.”

  “I’m not going to give up that easy,” I warn her. “I want you for my label, and I want to take you out.”

  Ivy smiles at me in a way that shows she’s touched, even if she is turning her back on me. “There’s a sweet side to you, Lucas. Don’t be afraid to let it show from time to time. It suits you.”

  She leaves, and I’m left with a feeling that so
mething great is unfinished. It’s a gnawing, nagging feeling deep in my gut that makes me restless and irritable. Ivy has given me a taste of the kind of relationships other men must have, the kind filled with real conversation and genuine affection.

  If only she wasn’t so wrapped around her daddy’s finger.

  Ivy

  I’m not really feeling up to another open mic night, but Jane insisted. It’s been a week since the masquerade, and I’m still feeling low after coming down from the most incredible high that was that night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Lucas and wondering if I’ve made a stupid, impulsive mistake based on someone else’s cynicism and old grudge. Lucas didn’t seem like a monster to me. He seemed charming, quirky, and kind. I looked behind the curtain, and I liked what I saw.

  It’s for the best, Ivy. He would have been trouble.

  “Where is it we’re going, again?” I ask Jane.

  She’s storming ahead through the subway station, guitar case in hand. She grins back at me over her shoulder. “I told you. There’s an open mic night.”

  “Uptown?”

  “That’s right.”

  “We never do open mics uptown.”

  “Well, maybe we should. It won’t do any harm to put ourselves out there in front of a different crowd.”

  “Maybe.”

  Jane comes to a stop and nudges me affectionately with her hip. “Come on, Ivy. Cheer up. You’ve been a massive downer ever since the masquerade. Was Lucas really that bad in bed?”

  Of course I’ve told Jane everything about my night with Lucas. I couldn’t keep it from her—she’s my best friend. She was shocked when I told her, but it soon turned to excitement. I think she’s hoping if I’m close to Lucas, it will only help our career. I’ve told her, quite bluntly, that I’m not interested in exchanging sex for career favors.

  “You know I had a great time with him,” I reply, “but it was a disaster waiting to happen. We have to focus on our music right now. We’re getting close. Everything else is simply a distraction.”

  “Lucas’s right, you know. You can’t let your dad dictate how you live your life. Especially when it comes to the two most important parts of it—your career and your love life. Those are things that should really be your own decision.”

  “I don’t want to disrespect the man. He’s done so much for me.”

  “And you’ve done everything for him. Who’s taken care of him since he had his stroke, hmm? You’ve been daughter-slash-caretaker to him for years. You’re the one who’s been keeping the roof over your heads. You’ve more than repaid him for whatever it is you think you owe him. If he thinks you taking a deal that will make your career means you don’t love him then he’s crazy. He’s only got to remember a handful of the things you’ve done for him to know he’s always been your number one priority.” She pauses and fixes me with a stern stare. “It’s okay to think of yourself once in a while.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. It’s been only me and him for so long.”

  “And me,” Jane corrects. She links arms with me and pulls me toward the train that’s just pulled up to the platform. “I’m here for you, too, and I think Lucas Fox is the answer to all your problems.”

  “This is Fox Record Studios.”

  Jane offers a guilty smile. “Lucas has been calling me.”

  My heart sinks. “He has?”

  “Not like that. He wants us to record a demo, and, apparently, you’re ghosting him.” Jane cocks her head and puts her hands on her hips. “I’m actually pretty upset you didn’t tell me. When it comes to our career, we should make these decisions together.”

  “I’m sorry, Jane. You’re right.”

  “You can’t keep these kinds of things from me. We’re supposed to be a team.” She lets out a slow breath then nods toward the building. “You owe me this. We’re going to record this demo. I’m making an executive decision on behalf of our music career, all bullshit between your father and Harvey Fox aside.”

  I take a deep breath and brace myself. I nod and pull Jane into a tight, one-armed hug. “I’m glad I’ve got you. I need you to give me a good kick to get going sometimes.”

  She smiles with relief. “Were you really going to let an opportunity like this pass you by over all that stuff that’s in the past?”

  “I don’t know. Quite possibly.”

  “I love you, but you’ve got to stop playing the martyr. Get your head screwed on. This is business, and we’ve earned our shot. Forget Harvey Fox, forget your dad, and do what you do best. Sing.”

  “Do what we do best.”

  I haven’t stepped into a music studio since I was a little girl, and this is nothing like the little one-room recording studio my dad owned back in the day. Everything is sleek and gleaming, finished with polished wood and chrome. There is a reception desk when we step into the bright, spacious lobby manned by a woman in a tailored pencil suit with her hair combed back into a taut bun. Her ears sparkle with large diamonds. Her nails are immaculately manicured in shell pink.

  She flicks her eyes up to us and offers a practiced smile. “Welcome to Fox Records. How can I help you?”

  “We’re here to see Lucas,” Jane tells her. “Lucas Fox.”

  He appears as if by magic at the sound of his name, striding up from a hall behind the reception desk. He waves at us as he gets closer, smiling widely. He’s wearing a tailored gray suit without a tie, his hair not even slightly mussed, but perfectly combed into a professional style. My body tenses just looking at him, every muscle screaming for his touch.

  “The Row Girls! Just the ladies I’ve been waiting for.” He signals to the receptionist that we’re expected and leads us into the building. “I’m thrilled you’ve decided to record with us today. You won’t regret it.”

  He looks back over his shoulder at us, and his expression is unreadable, but he flicks a cold gaze over me. My stomach sinks at the distance in his eyes. I think back to the night we spent together skin to skin in his bedroom, and I want him to look at me the same way again.

  You can’t blame him, Ivy. You’re the one who drew the line.

  Lucas leads us through a maze of high-tech, expensive, top-of-the-line recording booths until we stop at one at the far end of the studio. He opens the door for us and gestures for us to enter. We step into the engineer’s room complete with mixing board and leather armchairs for listeners to sit in. There’s a pane of glass in front of the console, behind which lies the recording booth, completely soundproofed with padded walls, empty apart from microphones hanging from the ceiling and two stools with headphones waiting on them.

  A man is sitting at the board. He has shaggy brown hair that covers his eyes like a scruffy puppy, a checkered shirt open over a gray T-shirt, jeans, square glasses, and some kind of wooden bead necklace around his neck.

  Lucas gestures to him. “This is Sam. He’ll be your recording engineer today. He’s great at what he does.” Lucas pats him on the back. “You won’t find better in the whole of Hollywood.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Sam stands and shakes each of our hands in turn. His palms are clammy, but his smile is genuine. “Everything’s just about ready. We only need to set up your guitars in there. I’ve got amps ready, and two mics waiting to go.”

  Jane spins on her heel with a smile on her face. “Wow. This is incredible.”

  “Everyone says that on day one.” Lucas chuckles. “Wait until you’re spending twelve hours a day in that box. It gets old quickly.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jane says. “This is what we’ve both always wanted. Isn’t it, Ivy?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  Lucas raises an eyebrow. “It’s a wonder it was so difficult to get hold of you, that being the case.” There’s a challenge in his voice. “It’s almost like you didn’t want to be here.”

  I flush, then clear my throat, lifting my chin up in defiance. “I’ve had time to think, and you’re right. It would be foolish to throw away an o
pportunity like this because of someone else’s grudge.”

  He grunts but doesn’t relax. “Good. I’m glad to hear you’ve come to your senses.” He offers an acknowledging nod to Jane. “Good thing you’ve got a partner with some ambition.”

  I know he’s trying to push my buttons, but I don’t bite. I hold my tongue and instead drink in the wonder of a real-life recording studio. I can’t stop staring at the microphones behind the glass, suspended in the air just waiting for an artist to breathe life and music into them. I shudder with anticipation.

  Sam returns from setting up some more equipment in the recording room and waves us inside. “It’s all ready for you, girls. Go ahead.”

  Jane and I look at each other with barely contained excitement then step into the room with our guitars. We each take a seat on a stool, unpack and plug in our guitars, then rest them on our knees. We jump when Sam’s voice comes over a speaker in the top far-right corner of the booth. It’s crackly with static.

  “Alright, ladies. We’re going to record three tracks today, the same ones you sang at Alibis, please. Any order you like.”

  Jane turns to me with a smile. “‘Midnight Mission’?”

  It’s a song about addiction in Skid Row. The Midnight Mission is a charity that offers recovery programs for addicts. The lyrics contrast the mission of someone trying to get clean and straight with others trying to get high. The way everything is hidden beneath metaphors and allegories, it could be interpreted as a love song if you didn’t know any better.

  “Alright,” I call out, not sure how to address Sam from inside the booth. “We’ll start with ‘Midnight Mission.’”

  His voice echoes. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  I pick up my guitar and start to play. As soon as the first notes dance out from under my fingertips, I’m at peace. I close my eyes and let everything fade away but the music. It doesn’t matter who I’m with or where I go, home is in the heart of my music. Whenever I sing, I’m where I should be.