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

by Willa Lively

  And it almost makes me bring my guard down. Until I realize that’s exactly what he wants. He’s probably acting all flustered to get me to be nice to him. Nice try, Lucifer.

  “Yeah, well, I hope my take on Shania Twain was original enough for you,” I say, throwing back the word he used when explaining why his label dropped me- why he dropped me.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t original, I…” he still sounds flustered, and I let myself look at him for the first time since sitting down. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I should just let you enjoy your night.” A slight tinge of pink rushes across his cheeks. It makes his face even more striking, as if he’s been exercising or other various strenuous activities that I can’t think about right now. But is it actually from embarrassment? It’s too difficult to believe that this man could ever be embarrassed.

  “I’m glad you liked the set,” my subconscious speaks for me. It’s a gut reaction. I can’t stand to see a person embarrassed. I would do it for anyone, apparently even the devil himself. “Maybe you can get up there yourself one of these nights and give another performance,” I add.

  “Excuse me, another performance?” Brooke pitches in.

  “Oh,” Lucien starts. I can practically see his face transform, as if he just remembered there were other people in the room. “Yeah, a lot of whiskey was involved. Don’t count on ever seeing it. Once in a lifetime occurrence, like that smelly flower that blooms in the jungle.”

  There’s that flippant and cocky Lucien I expected

  “He was good,” I say realizing there is a fire here to be stoked that’s not the one roaring in the fireplace. “Passionate about his performance, I would even say.”

  “Dude,” Cole starts. “Are you having some kind of life crisis or psychotic break? Is the pressure all finally too much?”

  Lucien brings his thumb and middle finger to his closed eyes and runs them to meet at the bridge of his nose, which makes him appear so… exhausted. He brings his hand down and looks up with a cocked eyebrow. “Honestly, it would explain a lot.”

  “Hey, guys!” Brooke says, “don’t forget this is a vacation! Enjoy yourselves. Go to the spa, take a sauna, chase the Northern lights. Oh! And that reminds me, I’ve organized a car to take us cross-country skiing tomorrow. Melody, you in? You have the afternoon off, right?”

  “Oh!” I pause, thinking about what I want. When’s the next time I could cross-country ski in the Arctic? And it’s not like I would even have to talk to Lucien with the others going. “Yeah, of course. I’d love to, thanks.” I would really like to not notice the small smile this elicits from Lucien.

  The small smile that makes me want him to touch me casually, the way he did in the bar when we first met, like we were old friends who might fuck one day. A palm on my back, just high enough to be appropriate but just low enough to make me think what it would be like even lower. A slow brush of hair behind my ear. All of these tender things passed between us in the first hours of meeting each other that we can never undo.

  I would gladly wipe them from my brain and replace them with literally anything else. Give me the first thousand numbers of pi instead of knowing how Lucien’s body feels on top of me, pinning me down. Add in the lyrics to every Weird Al Yankovic song instead of the distinct outline of his unfairly generous hard-on. I would even take a direct implant of the Sideways screenplay, a movie I truly despise for many reasons, if I could just disconnect his damn smell from whatever receptors in my brain they seem to be connected to that light up every time he’s around.

  But life is cruel and I can’t do any of these things. Instead, I just think about all the other musicians just like me who got the horrible news the same day I did. Yes, this good smelling devil did that. He’s a dream killer, and I’m practically made up of dreams. No amount of chemistry from one silly night can cover that up.

  I take a deep breath, finally resolved to break away from him and say goodnight. I don’t bother to look at the dream killer’s face as I walk away to safety.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lucien

  I find myself, once again, lingering outside of Melody’s door. This time, with much less vigor to see her. In fact, I feel kind of creepy being here. She clearly wants nothing to do with me. I got the picture last night when she barely spoke to me before leaving without a goodbye. And I don’t blame her.

  But I’m here on a specific mission, and after it’s completed, I’ll leave her be. Maybe even for the rest of my time here, though the idea of that is depressing.

  I bring my hand up to knock, but before I can, I notice that I can hear two voices in the room. A primal bolt of envy twists in my stomach, even though I’m pretty sure it’s just light chatter on the other side. Really, anyone sharing a room with Melody makes me more jealous than I would like to admit to myself. Mostly because they have the thing that I can’t seem to get- her trust.

  I finish my task of knocking, but with a little more bravado than I had originally intended.

  I hear shuffling, the peephole cover sliding, and then a sigh.

  “I can hear you in there seeing that it’s me, Mel,” I say at the peephole.

  With this, she opens the door. “Shouldn’t your hotel have better sound barriers?” she says with raised eyebrows. She only peaks her head through the cracked door, and this frustrates me more than it should. If I’m going to stay away from her as much as possible, then the times I’m with her should at least be filled with, well, her.

  “Am I interrupting something?” I prod.

  “Always,” she says with a sweet, albeit sarcastic, smile. Hey, at least it’s a smile.

  “Fine,” I run my hand through my hair. “I’ll make this short. Brooke has an emergency she has to deal with at the hotel, and Cole realized he could spend the day at the spa instead of outside. So that leaves only you and me. I figured you wouldn’t want to go with only me, so I came to give you a heads up.”

  “Oh,” she says with what looks like the tiniest bit of disappointment. “Hold on.” She opens up the door wider and I see it’s Lumi from the reception desk in her room. This slightly calms the little, okay big, envy monster in my stomach.

  “Lumi,” Mel starts while walking towards Lumi who is sitting with a guitar in her lap. Okay, I guess I can follow her in. She didn’t specifically invite me in, but she didn’t close the door in my face. “Are you free to join us to go cross-country skiing today?” she asks Lumi who sees me and her eyes go big. In fact, it seems to be the only face she makes at me. I give her a small wave.

  “Uh, no.” She says looking between us, trying and likely failing to read what is going on between us. Join the club, Lumi. “I have a shift in…” she checks her watch. “Oh, well, look at that. I should go now. But you guys should still go. You can’t miss the opportunity.”

  Lumi places the guitar on the bed and leaves in a hurry as if Melody had just asked her to join us in making fun of kittens instead of some nice vigorous physical activity.

  “Did you tell her I’m some Disney villain or something?” I ask, turning back to Melody, who is shuffling to put something away.

  “No, she gets nervous around authority. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to tell her you don’t have any.”

  I take a step toward, which makes her do this extremely unsubtle shoulder blocking kind of movement. She doesn’t consider that she’s like a little elf shuffling around with a giant peering over her should. I can see clearly what she’s hiding.

  The lute.

  The lute I gave her.

  The lute that I assumed she already sold off to the nearest pawn ship.

  “You brought it?” I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

  She drops her shoulders, resigning to being caught.

  “I obviously didn’t know you were going to be here,” she blushes and I can’t describe how delightful it is to witness those rosy cheeks again. That perfect shade of rose that matches her hair. It’s so beautiful, I would paint my entire apartment the color if s
he would let me get close enough to match the paint sample. It means I still affect her. That even in the smallest way, she might care what I think. And that’s enough to make me feel for the first time since last night that I might still have a chance.

  “When I picked it out, I dreamed of talking to you about it. Of telling you what it means to me and my time in France. I dreamed of you making some badass medieval sounding cover to some song I never would have been able to figure out for myself.” I can’t help telling her. That little blush is getting to my senses. She probably doesn’t care about what I was thinking about when I sent it to her. If anything, it reminds her of my connection to music, and therefore who I really am. A heartless heir who smashed her dreams.

  But to my relief, anger doesn’t flood her face. Instead, I spot the slightest smile dancing at her eyes. It’s so small she could deny it. But I see it.

  “Listen,” I keep going while I’m ahead. “I came here to tell you about the others. But the van is still scheduled to leave in an hour. If you can’t find anyone else, I would still love to join you. It’s not like we can even talk while we’re pushing through the snow in negative temperatures.”

  I watch her closely, knowing that reading her is a delicate science that requires strict attention to detail. I’m pretty sure I’m getting good signs in the slight release of her shoulders. If I was a betting man, I would give myself the green light to celebrate. She breathes out a small sigh. I think we got her, boys! Melody might just be in for at least an afternoon. But she’s a tricky, unpredictable one and instead of clapping in joy I just stare at her, squinting slightly while she works hard to maintain what looks like a replica of the flat line emoji face that Barb always sends me.

  Oh! Now she’s opening her mouth. Body language is looking affirmative, with a small shrug.

  “Yeah, fine. I’m not going to stop you from experiencing Finland while you’re here. And you’re right, it’s not like we can talk.”

  The crowd in my head goes wild. We did it, boys! The celebration gets a little out of control in my head and I am definitely smiling too big to be appropriate for this scenario.

  She’s really trying hard to stay in the flat emoji face, but I notice her smile cracking through.

  “Okay, okay!” she says smoothly instead of smiling. She moves her hands to signal for me to get out. “That doesn’t mean you can stay here and watch me change. I’ll meet you in the front in an hour.”

  Maybe not, Mel, but the cheering boys in my head are pretty sure this is one small step to being able to watch you change every day for the rest of our lives. What? Where did that come from? Calm down, boys.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Lucien

  “People do this for fun?” Melody shakes the snow off her hat as we step into the front door of a red cabin. There was a sign pointing to this cabin, and it was the only thing we saw besides white on the trail for miles.

  “I didn’t know the inside of my nose could freeze. What if I can never smell again?” I blow at my hands, cupping my face, hoping it will thaw me out so one day I can at least breathe through my nose again.

  “I felt the skin on my face freezing. I was picturing my face transforming into white walker skin the whole time,” Mel says, blowing in her own hands.

  Her cheeks are apple red and adorable, but I won’t be the one to tell her that. “Merde,” I say instead, bringing my face closer to examine her cheeks. “Your skin really is blue.”

  “No!” she looks genuinely terrified before I let out a grin, to which she responds by whipping her glove at me. “At least we didn’t have to talk out there.”

  “Mm hm,” I say skeptically, because I’m not so sure she seems to mind talking to me right now.

  I open the second door for her, hoping I’m leading her into a cafe and we’re not breaking and entering because let’s be real, the sign in Finnish could have said, ‘Don’t come in unless you want us to tickle your feet!’ for all I know.

  To my relief, it’s better than I could have imagined and, dare my French soul even say, romantic. There is a fire roaring in a large stone fireplace and scattered around the room are mismatched wooden tables. There are a few people spread throughout, drinking hot drinks and eating pastries. An older couple is behind a counter piled high with various types of baked goods, which must be the source of the intoxicating cardamom and cinnamon smell.

  I look to Melody and can see she’s doing that little smile suppressing face that she does now with me. Damn it, I don’t want her to lose all her happiness because of me. I’ll be the one who gives up smiling if that’s what it takes. I’ll tell her it makes me absolutely miserable when she smiles, and then she’ll definitely smile all the time. She would probably even start smiling in her sleep.

  “How’s your Finnish,” she whispers to me as we approach the counter.

  “Oh, great. We’ll be fine,” I say before I can stop myself. Two feet tickles coming right up.

  “Moi,” the older woman behind the counter says.

  “Moi,” I say back. Good start so far.

  The woman waits for me expectantly for the big reveal of my order, to which I very smoothly respond with pointing to what I want.

  Melody is now looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and a smug smile, which is much better than the emoji face.

  “Yes, Mel? What would you like so I can skillfully order for you?”

  She looks back at the woman behind the counter. “Glögi ja korvapuusti, kiitos.”

  The woman responds without a blink of an eye, apparently unfazed that she is speaking to a literal savant of the Finnish language.

  “Why are you staring at me like I just cured cancer?” Melody whisper-yells at me. “Lumi has been teaching me a little Finnish in exchange for guitar lessons and I literally only said ‘mulled wine and cinnamon roll, thanks’ and two of those words are written on the board.”

  “I’m allowed to be impressed. You can take a lot of things from me, Mel, but you can’t take that.”

  She shrugs and I quickly use the opportunity to pay for her order.

  “I don’t need you to pay for me,” she hisses at me. Really, she sounded like some kind of cat.

  “I didn’t say you did,” I answer, grabbing our tray.

  I, of course, lead us to the most romantic spot in the place, right next to the fireplace. If she wants her ‘korvaavoomvoom’ or whatever, she is going to have to come and get it.

  She comes to pull her chair out, but before she can, a little boy in a bright yellow onesie snowsuit comes waddling in between her and the chair to beeline for the fireplace. The tiny dude must be all of 4 years old, and he’s already showed me up once, when he embarrassingly passed me on the cross-country track. Now I can tell it’s happening again when I see Mel’s eyes grow big in admiration. Strike two, little guy, strike two. I have to admit, his resemblance to a baby Teletubby when he’s walking makes the scene pretty adorable, but not adorable enough that I’m going to let him take her attention from what could be my one chance to ever have her alone again.

  She finally sits down across from me and immediately works hard to bring her warm glowing smile for the little Teletubby back to her flat neutral face for me.

  “I hate that you suppress your smile around me, Melody. It kills me. If that’s your intention, congratulations, it’s working,” I say before I can stop myself.

  She looks up at me in surprise.

  “I-I didn’t realize I did that so obviously,” she stutters.

  “I don’t know if it’s obvious, but I notice it.”

  She sighs at this and looks annoyed. Damn it, what did I say?.

  “What do you want, Lucien? I don’t get it. Why do you even care? Are you trying to get under my skin for sport? Is this your idea of a vacation activity?” She is removing her layers while she is talking.

  “You really don’t get it?” I knit my brows together in awe at the suggestion she hasn’t figured out what I want. “You think I send hand-crafted
instruments to all the girls who let me puke in their bathrooms? No, Melody. That’s how I show love. It’s the only way I’m any good at. I bought you a gift because you cracked me open that night and I would buy you every instrument on this earth if that meant I could keep getting to know you.” Merde, what the hell is coming out of my mouth. Maybe Cole is right, and this is some kind of crisis I’m having.

  It’s out now, I can only sit back and see how Melody takes it. She takes a deep breath and then starts talking slowly.

  “You didn’t even think I was special enough to keep me as a musician on your label. Let alone, what? Date me? You think you want to date me?” Her voice is growing louder now and I see the little yellow gremlin out of the corner of my eye watching us from the fireplace in fascination.

  “If you would let me take you out on a date then, hell yes, that’s what I want,” I say earnestly. Because I am fucking earnest about that, crazy or not. I can’t deny it’s what I want.

  She rolls her eyes. “Sure, maybe you like the way I look. Or you like that you can keep me under your thumb being a powerful music executive. Maybe you even enjoy when I perform, but none of that makes me feel good. None of it. Because you’re also the man who made me feel absolutely worthless when you threw away my contract like a used napkin. And that’s how I see you every time I look at you, as someone who thinks I’m worthless.” With this, she shoots down the rest of her drink and begins putting the layers back on that she’s just taken off.

  “Wait, just hold on,” I say with more desperation in my voice than I would like. “Just stay right there. Please.” I put my hand out at her as if she’s a wildcat and I stand up, backing up to the register.

  I quickly dash to the counter and get one more hot chocolate and one more of that spiced wine thing she was drinking, both for her, and put them in front of her like a peace offering. At least if she drinks both, it will give me some time.

  “There’s a study that found when a person experiences a gain in power, it creates temporary brain damage. And when a person holds power over a long period of time, it becomes permanent,” I start, choosing my words carefully.