by Marian Tee
Staffan braced himself on his elbows to look at Saffi searchingly. “You’re okay?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes.”
“Anything else you want to say?” he prodded finally, wondering if she would tell the truth now.
She nodded.
He braced himself again, this time for hearing the truth. “What is it?”
Saffi placed her hand on his cheek, and Staffan felt it shaking hard against his skin. “You were worth waiting for,” she whispered.
Goddammit to hell.
He closed his eyes, not wanting the soft dreamy smile on Saffi’s face to completely break the walls he had erected around his heart.
She was too fucking late.
If he had met her before Chloe, perhaps they had a chance.
But not now – not when he knew the fucking truth about the harsh realities of the world.
When it was clear he wouldn’t speak, Saffi told herself she wasn’t disappointed. Did she really think he’d fall in love with her just because she had given him her virginity? He was Staffan Aehrenthal and she was – nobody. She wasn’t even Saffi March, who was just barely better than her “H” persona.
She pulled him down for a kiss, her lips telling him without words that he did not have to say anything.
Staffan rolled them over, Saffi lying on his chest. In moments, his little starry-eyed charmer was asleep. He lied awake the whole night, savoring the feel of Saffi in his arms, and knowing that he was about to take a huge risk tomorrow.
He had to do something to make the truth clear to Saffi. They would be good together. He could feel it in his bones. They would be even better than how he and his traitorous bitch of an ex had been.
But for that to happen, he had to do something despicable first.
Those stars in her eyes had to go.
Chapter Six
Saffi March changed her status to It’s complicated.
Staffan woke up to find Saffi gone from his bed. The knowledge made him completely awake…and desperate. He threw the covers away and stalked out of the bed. “Saffi?” He paused, waiting and hoping she would answer somewhere from the suite.
But there was nothing.
His fists clenched. “Saffi?” This time he didn’t bother keeping his volume down.
The door flew open.
His heart slammed against his chest as he held his breath.
But it was only Bob.
“You’re finally awake, boss.” Seeing Staffan standing buck naked in the middle of his hotel suite was nothing new to Bob. He had seen his employer in far worse situations and rarely alone at that.
The smile on his bodyguard’s face made Staffan irrationally furious, and he swiftly turned away to prevent himself from snapping at Bob for no reason. He stalked into the vast en-suite bathroom, flinging the closet doors open to grab a robe.
Bob busied himself making coffee, used to Staffan’s temperamental ways although a bit puzzled by it. Saffi had woken up in extremely good spirits. He had expected Staffan to be the same, and seeing that the opposite was true bemused him.
“Coffee, boss?”
Staffan nodded his thanks. He allowed the coffee to do its work, waiting for the burning liquid to pour down his throat. Finally he asked, “Do you know where Saffi went?”
Bob almost smirked. No matter how hard Staffan tried to hide it, he clearly cared a lot about the answer. Good for you, H, he thought.
The chilling glare that Staffan sent his way made Bob answer hurriedly, “She’s helping out with the crew.”
Staffan’s cup rattled as he almost dropped it together with the saucer. The strength of his relief at hearing Saffi hadn’t actually left him was immense and undeniable.
Bob’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Boss?”
He strove for control. This time, he had a pressing urge to wring the neck of a certain dark-haired girl with a penchant for dreamy smiles. What the fuck was she doing there? Didn’t she fucking know she belonged at his side?
“It’s fine. Get the driver ready. I’m leaving right after my shower.” He paused. “Have my PA call Yanna and let her know that I’m doing the date on the day of the concert. Get her to pick five girls, print their profiles out and bring them to me immediately.”
Bob had a suddenly sinking feeling that Staffan, for some insane reason, was going back to his old ways. To the time that he was ruining himself for nothing. “Immediately, boss?” he repeated, hoping his employer would take it back.
Staffan stomped down the insidious stirrings of doubt inside him. He was doing the best thing here. Saffi was a smart girl. She’d see it that way, too. “Yeah, immediately.”
Ignoring Bob’s disapproving frown, he dismissed the other man with another curt nod.
Staffan allowed himself to grimace the moment Bob left his hotel suite, slamming the door in his wake. Bob had never done that before.
What was it with Saffi March that made it so easy for her to wriggle into people’s hearts?
He gritted his teeth at how helplessly drawn he felt towards her, as if she were a drug he was naturally addicted to. But it would be different this time. He would prove it to himself, to Saffi, and to everyone else. It would be extremely good between them – but it had to be on his terms.
His door opened again, with Bob poking his head inside. “Boss, do you want breakfast?”
“No thanks.” It was just eight o’ clock. He would have breakfast with Saffi---
“You sure, boss? If you’re planning having breakfast with H, you should know that she already went to McDonald’s with Carson.” The door slammed shut.
Staffan’s teeth clenched together again. He should fucking fire Bob. The man was goddamn clueless about who his loyalty should belong to.
Saffi had shared breakfast with Carson at McDonald’s.
Staffan cursed.
What the fuck are you up to now, min himmel?
~~~
“You don’t sound fine, Saffi,” Steel said in his usual quiet voice over the phone.
Saffi clenched her eyes shut at her brother’s words. Thank God she had been smart enough to decide against video-calling him. If she had, everything would be over. Steel had always been overprotective about her, had always felt personally responsible for what happened when she was in high school. Vania had been his girlfriend then, and he had blamed himself for not being able to put a stop to her plans.
If he saw her now, just one look at her face would be more than enough for him to fly straight to Vegas and whisk her away.
But she didn’t need saving.
Even though she knew what she had with Staffan wouldn’t last and would only end with her heart breaking, Saffi didn’t care. She wanted as much time as she could with Staffan, and she couldn’t remember wanting anything as much as she wanted being close to him.
“I’m okay,” she finally said. “I’m just tired. The concert ended really late.”
“If you say so.” Reluctance underlined Steel’s voice, letting Saffi know that he was only taking her words at face value because he chose to do so.
She quickly changed the subject. “How’s Dad’s campaign going?” Saffi expected Steel to answer with small talk, but he surprised her instead by ssaying something else.
“There’s still time enough to cancel the engagement, Saffi.”
Her throat tightened, cutting off her oxygen supply. Just for this weekend, she had done her very best to forget about that, but she should have known Steel would force it out in the open. All of a sudden, she felt terrified of something she used to have no qualms about. Staffan made her different, and now she wondered if she could really stomach letting another man touch her body the way Staffan did. Even if it was Jeremy, someone she had known her whole life---could she really bear giving herself to another man?
“Saffi?” Steel asked sharply. “Something’s happened to you.” It was more a statement than a question, her brother’s legendary instincts kicking in.
She pressed her han
d against her chest, hard, as if she could use the pressure to calm her furiously beating heart. “Let’s just talk about it next time.” She paused. “Don’t tell Mom or Dad anything. Please, Steel?”
He expelled his breath harshly. “I don’t like this.”
“Please, Steel. Trust me. I’m fine. I’ll go home this Sunday as planned. So please---just give me this weekend. Don’t worry about me. I’ve never been happier actually.”
“And never been sadder, too, Saffi. That’s what’s worrying me the most.”
Her hand tightened around her phone. “Everything’s going to be as planned. I’m still going to be engaged with Jeremy, Dad’s still going to be elected for his second term as senator, and…everything will be okay. Everyone will be okay.”
“And you?” Steel asked. “Everyone will be okay except you. Is that how it will be?”
“Goodbye, Steel.” She ended the call, dashing her tears off with the back of her hand.
Alan and Donovan were still waiting for her outside the restroom when she came out.
“Are you okay?” Alan asked, concerned. He was already dressed for dance practice, in a sleeveless shirt, sweat pants, and hi-cuts. He was the very definition of swag, and she started to understand why Staffan might have considered the idea she was flirting with Alan. He really was good-looking, and he did not look gay at all.
She glanced at Alan’s companion. Even Donovan was undeniably cute, dressed in yet another hot-grad-school nerd outfit with his neatly pressed shirt and jeans. Saffi flashed them a smile. “I’m super good. Why shouldn’t I be when I just had the best night of my life?”
They laughed.
“Who knew you’d be so wild,” Alan teased.
She rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m pretty sure everyone from high school would have a hard time understanding any guy – much less someone like Staffan – liking me.”
Donovan would have laughed if not for the real grimace on Saffi’s face. “You’re not kidding?” he gasped. Saffi was exquisitely beautiful, like a fragile doll…that Nickelodeon created instead of Mattel. Pretty…but quirky.
Alan winced. “She’s not kidding, and I’m one of those to blame---”
Saffi waved his words away in exasperation. “Of course you’re not! Peer pressure and bullying were to blame. That’s all.” Deciding that another change of subject was called for, she asked, “Can I join your dance practice today? I mean, just on the sides. I won’t be a bother, I promise.”
Alan choked. “You? Dance?”
“Hey!” She was deeply affronted at the look in Alan’s eyes.
Donovan grinned. “That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea,” Alan said feelingly.
“HEY!”
Alan ignored her. “I slow-danced with her during graduation ball and she stepped on my toe every five seconds.”
“I did not!”
He lifted a brow at her. “Really?”
“It was every seven seconds.”
Alan threw his hands up. “See?”
“I could have improved a lot since then, you know?” At his dubious expression, she insisted, “Really. My dad paid for professional lessons.” Or at least that was how she liked to call her copy of Hip Hop Abs with Shaun T.
Alan’s doubt turned into hesitation. “Really?”
She tried not to grin at how easy she had fooled him. “Really.”
This time, he looked impressed. “Cool.”
When they entered the huge concert hall, where a part of it had been temporarily set aside for dance practice, the first thing Saffi saw was Mitch.
Shit! Saffi made a quick about face. She was so not in the mood to get into another catfight!
Behind her, Alan said happily, “Guess what, guys? H’s here and wants to practice with us!” Alan reached her side and twirled her around to face everyone. Saffi watched Mitch’s eyes widen in recognition.
Mitch was in a rage. Dressed in another all-black ensemble because she knew it made her look sophisticated like a celebrity, she could only curse silently when she saw the same groupie who ruined her night at the concert. How could Staffan Aehrenthal prefer that slut over her? She was a real woman, a decent woman while this---this whore was nothing!
Saffi pretended to twist her ankle. “Oh, wow. I think I just hurt myself.”
Alan and Donovan stared at her blankly.
Mitch said loudly, “If she wants to dance so much then maybe she’ll be game for a dance-off. Winner has dibs on Staffan’s bed tonight.”
She was so not going to stoop to the insane fangirl’s level, Saffi decided, and especially since she knew she had absolutely no chance of winning. Saffi twisted her ankle to another angle. “I’d love to, umm, dance off, but I don’t think it’s going to happen, not with my ankle…”
“Oooh. She’s walking away,” Mitch jeered. “I guess she knows groupies like her are just good for nothing but sex.”
Saffi froze.
She thought about Carmina and her friends and the way they had fun hanging out during the concert, the way those girls had fought for her and even helped her get past the checkpoint of Staffan’s backstage area.
Without thinking, Saffi rotated her ankle clockwise twice, exclaiming with exaggerated shock, “Oh my goodness, I think I’m fine now.”
Alan slowly lifted his hand up…and smacked himself in the forehead. This, he thought, was not going to be good. It had Silly Sapphire written all over, like the countless times Saffi did the craziest things back when they were kids because she was more gullible and innocent than a newborn.
Mitch had started warming up in front of her, cracking her knuckles, stretching her limbs, and twisting her body in no way a vertebrate had a right to.
Pretending she was just as experienced, Saffi did a little stretch, too, standing on her toes only to lose her balance a few seconds after. The other dancers choked back their laughter as she tumbled to the side and hurriedly righted herself.
Saffi lifted her chin. “No matter how good your moves are on the dance floor, they won’t do you any good when you’re in Staffan’s bed. You’ll leave him cold and you’ll---” Saffi tried to come up with a really nasty insult. “---you’ll make his dick hide like a turtle inside a shell because you’re so bad in bed!”
Mitch saw red. “Bitch!” And then she was charging towards Saffi like a bull in Prada.
Saffi shrieked in surprise, but Alan and Donovan managed to hold Mitch back, the other woman’s nails just inches away from clawing her face.
“Let’s just settle this with a dance-off. It’s the civilized thing to do here,” Donovan said hastily. Alan turned to her with wriggling eyebrows and actually winking, as if he wanted to make sure she knew that Donovan was doing her a big favor.
She glared back. Had Alan forgotten she had two left feet---
Shit. She suddenly remembered what she had also told him that she had professional lessons. Saffi gulped. One look at Mitch and she knew the other woman was the type to pay for actual professional lessons. It could be anything from pole dancing to belly dancing to anything that could help Mitch’s transition from fangirl to Mrs. Superstar.
Okay, she was so going to…be killed.
Saffi knew girls like Mitch – the ones that gave true fangirls a bad rep. It didn’t matter to women like Mitch who they’d end up being with. All they wanted was the fame. They just weren’t as honest about it as the Gs, and they’d use anything – like this dance-off – to score.
She took a step closer, the very idea of having Staffan spend time – for whatever reason – with someone so undeserving of him firing Saffi up like she was a sports car running on full tank. Mitch and Staffan? Over her dead body! In fact, if Mitch did kill her in this dance battle, Saffi would rather hand Staffan over to Carmina.
She pointed at Mitch. “Game on.”
~~~
It was barely nine in the morning and the stage area was already ringing with noise. Usually, most of his crew would still be tired after t
he flight and some even hung over from the open bar last night. It was rare for them to be completely energetic and noisy in the morning, and there could only be one explanation for it.
Saffi.
Staffan quickened his steps and a little while later he was running full force towards the stage area as the shouts got louder. Why were they cheering? Maybe Saffi and Carson were doing something together? He ran even faster at the thought. It didn’t fucking matter what they were doing together. He just wanted them apart – completely.
If that young asshole even dared touch what was his---
He bumped into Bob in his haste.
Bob’s eyes widened at the naked fury in Staffan’s eyes. “It’s not what you think!” he said quickly. He didn’t really know what his employer was thinking. All he knew was that Staffan had to have the wrong idea to look this mad, especially considering what Saffi was doing right now.
“What the fuck do you mean?” Staffan didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “What the hell’s going on?” Ahead of him, his entire crew – the backup dancers and vocals, the tech crew, and even his management team – was all cheering and chanting, almost drowning out the music that was playing.
“It’s a dance-off, boss.” Bob looked discomfited. “With you as the prize.”
“What the fuck?”
“One of the groupies from LA is here again and she challenged Saffi to a dance off.”
“And she agreed?” His Saffi March, who he was guessing had to be extremely smart to be taking a post-graduate degree on fish, had agreed?
Bob nodded.
“Is she any good?”
The other man coughed because any other response would be…awkward.
Staffan coughed as well, needing to hide his embarrassment. “That’s all I need to know.”
And it really was. Staffan’s chest eased, like a heavy burden had just been lifted off his shoulders. He walked at a leisurely pace and as word spread about his presence, the crowd immediately parted, automatically making space for Staffan to walk unhindered all the way to the front.
The first thing he saw was Saffi, standing at the edge, a concentrated frown on her face. Mitch was dancing in the center, and even he had to admit it was an extremely good dance, with just the right amount of softness and snap. With both of them had their backs to him, neither girl wasn’t aware of his presence.