by Tee, Marian
Saffi walked away at the sight. She knew it made her cowardly, but she just didn’t have the courage to stick around to see what Staffan would do.
Staffan said flatly, “I’m afraid you have the wrong idea.”
“Let me please you—” Janine reached for him.
He stepped back. “I love my wife.”
Ire flashed in her eyes. “But she doesn’t deserve you. She was so demanding—”
“Actually, she’s not as demanding as she should be. Because I love her so much, if she had asked for the fucking moon, I would have found a way to give it to her.”
He turned around and walked away, knowing he had to get to Saffi immediately. He had to make sure she was all right. If she had seen Janine—dammit.
“I’m your most devoted fangirl,” Janine shrieked from behind. “I’d give you everything, never ask you for anything—”
Staffan spun around. “You may be devoted to me, but you see, I’ve learned a thing or two about fangirls from my wife. One thing I’ve learned? The real ones don’t talk shit about each other. My wife would never talk shit about you – even if you are shit. And that’s what I love most about her.”
~ Five ~
“Saffi?” He entered their private cabin. All the lights had been switched off and his wife was lying on her side, as close to the wall as possible.
She didn’t answer.
He knew she was pretending to be asleep, but instead of calling her out about it, he decided to let it be. It was safer this way. He lay on his side of the bed, careful not to touch her. With each second that passed, the distance between them seemed to widen.
Should he tell her? Should he be the first one to say it? Staffan closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he decided tiredly. If she still hadn’t realized the truth by tomorrow, he would tell her.
****
Saffi knew the exact moment her husband fell asleep, knew from the way his body turned heavy and made the bed dip low, knew from the way his breathing evened out.
The moment he fell asleep, she allowed the tears to fall.
While waiting for him to come back, she had made a bet with herself. If Staffan had wooed her like he always did in the past, if he had tried to explain what had happened, she would take it as a sign that she could and should fight for her marriage.
But if he didn’t—
And he hadn’t—
More tears fell, but she didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t want to sleep because she feared what tomorrow meant.
****
When Staffan woke up, it was to find his wife gone from his side. His chest constricted at the sight, but he told himself he had nothing to worry about. He had made his decision last night, and whatever the consequences were, he would stick to it.
This stupid goddamn thing between them had gone on long enough. It was time to put things to rights, to make them go back to normal. He didn’t think he could last a day longer anyway. He missed her, missed Saffi so much she was all he could think about.
After showering, he headed to the observation car to search for his wife. He was oblivious to the stunningly picturesque landscape outside the windows he walked past. Their beauty meant nothing to him if he was not with his beloved fangirl.
Unfortunately, finding her was easier said than done. She was not in the observation car, was not in the clinic – thank God – and was not in their room. Where the fuck could she be?
She always liked talking to strangers, Staffan thought uneasily. She was so incurably innocent and friendly. What if there was a serial killer in their midst and he had managed to lure Saffi away from prying eyes?
He called her phone, but she didn’t answer. He called her again and again, but still it only rang without ever being picked up.
He stalked towards the car at the end of the train, a nightclub that Staffan knew also doubled as a place for passengers to flirt and make out.
Inside the dimly lit car, he spotted her right away, her beige, nearly-transparent dress and ivory skin making her glow in the dark like a porcelain goddess.
She was seated on one of the bar stools, a drink in her hand, surrounded by men. When he saw her toss her head back and laugh, exposing the beautiful slim lines of her throat, his control snapped.
One moment, Saffi was pretending she was having the time of her life, trying to get herself drunk so her heart would stop hurting. The next thing she knew, strong hands were gripping her waist just before she was lifted off the stool and dumped on her feet.
She looked up, her shocked gaze meeting Staffan’s coldly furious eyes.
He snatched the glass in her hands and slammed it on the table. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you care?” Saffi yelled back. But what she really wanted to ask was why? Why was he bothering to pretend he cared?
Just looking at him made her feel so sick and tired inside. She just didn’t understand what had happened between them. She thought they were happy. Sometimes, she would catch him looking at her and she would have sworn the love she felt for him was mirrored in his eyes.
But if he loved her, why was he being such an asshole?
He started to speak, but she shook her head. She didn’t want to hear any more of his lies. Without a word, she walked away. He called her name, but she didn’t turn around, didn’t stop walking until she reached their room.
When Staffan followed her into their cabin, he was stunned to find her packing her clothes. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to another cabin—”
He spun her around. “Saffi—”
“Stop it,” she screamed. “I don’t want this anymore. I can’t take it. Do you hear me? I can’t just take it. You’re blowing hot and cold and it’s…I think we just need to spend some time apart—”
“What the fuck are you saying?” Staffan said hoarsely. How did it get to this? Everything he had done was for her, dammit, and now she was leaving him?
His face whitened with pain, her words reminding him of the time they had not been together, of the time he had lost her—
He couldn’t go through that again.
He wouldn’t survive.
He loved her too much.
He said tightly, “I won’t let you go—”
“But Staffan,” she cut him off helplessly, “you can’t really stop me, can you?” Guilt pierced Saffi when her husband looked at her like she had just stabbed him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But it’s just—”
“You’re unfair, Saffi,” Staffan said hoarsely. “You’re not even giving me a chance to explain.” He struggled to contain his panic even though all his instincts told him to haul his wife into his arms and never let her go.
“Then tell me,” she cried out.
He raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand. I never meant to hurt you. It was all for you—”
“Liar!”
When she started to whirl away, Staffan could no longer take it. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She struggled to get out of his hold, but he didn’t let her, kissing her hair, murmuring the words he had forced himself to lock inside his heart.
I love you, Saffi. Love you so damn much. Love you forever.
“I don’t understand,” she sobbed.
“I guess you’re too young to know. I wanted you to be the one to tell me because this time, I wanted everything to be right.” Tears stung his own eyes as he finally told her the truth. “Baby, you’re pregnant.”
Saffi froze.
He carefully spun her around, cupping her face and looking into eyes that glistened with tears and unspoken hope. For a moment, they could only look at each other, remembering the baby girl they had lost and grieved for.
“Staffan…” Her voice caught. Fear in her eyes. Hope that she tried so hard to contain. “How can you be sure?”
“Changes in your body. Your appetite. I know every little thing about you, and I remember what changed when you w
ere carrying our daughter.” His own voice shook as he placed a hand over her womb. “Trust me, baby, you’re pregnant.”
When she started to cry, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. “It’s the only reason why I’ve been spending so much time away from you. I didn’t want risking making love to you because it could hurt the baby.”
“You could have told me,” she sobbed against his chest.
“I’m sorry, H.”
She sobbed harder, feeling like it had been forever since Staffan had called her that.
He rained kisses over her face. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” His voice was laced with regret. “I just wanted everything to be right. I imagined you telling me you were pregnant and this time, I wouldn’t react like how I did in the past.” He let out a ragged breath. “But God, Saffi – I never thought that it would end up like this. I’m so fucking sorry—”
She rose to her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as she cut his words off with a kiss. Their tears mingled, their tongues entwined, and their bodies strained against each other.
When she pulled away, she looked up at him with eyes still shining with tears. But this time, they weren’t of sorrow.
He loved her so much he had gone through such lengths to make things right the second time around with them. It humbled her, and it made her want to give Staffan what he wanted.
“Staffan?”
He stiffened at the way she said his name. “What is it?”
She cupped his face. “I’m pregnant.”
Slowly, his eyes closed, and Saffi waited, knowing that Staffan was fighting to hold on to his control. When his eyes opened, he smiled at her, the same kind of smile he had given her that first day they had met, when he was just a rock star to her and she a fangirl to him.
“I’m glad.” His head lowered, their noses rubbing against each other just before his lips touched hers in a sweet, tender gesture. “You can’t believe how fucking glad I am to be a father to our child.”
~ Epilogue ~
“It’s absolutely safe, Mr. Aehrenthal,” the doctor told Saffi’s husband the next day. As soon as they had reached Venice, Staffan had insisted on them visiting the first clinic with an English-speaking doctor, which happened to be the one at the train station.
His gaze filled with exasperation, the doctor continued, “I’m even willing to stake my reputation on it. Your wife is fit and healthy and as long as you do not require her to perform acrobatics in bed, there is no reason why either of you should not enjoy a normal sex life during her pregnancy.”
“Thank you for the clarification, Dr. Jackson.” Saffi couldn’t quite look at the doctor. Did Staffan really have to ask that while she was around?
She stood up and shook hands with the doctor.
When she looked at Staffan, she was surprised to still find him on his seat, a calculating look on his handsome face. Today, he had dispensed with his disguise and looked every inch the billionaire rock star he was in his pinstriped suit and silver shirt. It had every woman at the station screaming his name, but thankfully Bob and his team were around this time, and they had kept the fans away while Saffi and Staffan had made their way to the clinic.
“Staffan?” She tugged on his sleeve.
Not looking at her, Staffan said, “Doctor?”
“Yes, Mr. Aehrenthal?”
“I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars if you lend us this room for an hour.”
Saffi gasped.
The doctor choked.
Staffan frowned. “Well, actually make that two—no…” His gaze slid to the bed behind the doctor’s chair. It appeared comfy enough, and he had seen the nurse change the sheets right after Saffi’s checkup. “Four,” he finally decided. That should be enough to keep him from exploding with need for his wife.
“I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars if you lend us this room and make sure no one interrupts us.”
Dr. Jackson looked torn. “B-but what do I say—”
“Up to you.” Staffan shrugged. “Just make sure whatever excuse you use, it will explain her screams.”
“Staffan!”
But her husband was already walking to the door and opening it. “Doctor?”
The doctor hurried out of the room, leaving a wide-eyed Saffi to watch Staffan oh-so-calmly lock the door behind him, shrug off his jacket, and start unbuttoning his jacket.
“Are you for real?” she demanded.
He said seriously, “I promise I’ll be very gentle.”
A shaky, nervous laugh escaped her. “But Staffan, we could have—” She gasped when upon reaching her, Staffan immediately lifted her up and placed her on the doctor’s desk. With one powerful sweep of his hand, he had all of the doctor’s things scattered on the floor.
He made her lie on her back on the table. “I can’t wait any longer, H,” he said simply.
In his gaze, she saw need and love, so much of it, and all of it was for her. Even though her cheeks still burned with color at what Staffan had just done, she knew she couldn’t resist him, would never be able to say ‘no’ to whatever he wanted.
Curling her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I can’t wait any longer either.”
****
Outside the clinic, the doctor told his staff to wait as the patient inside suffered from a possibly contagious disease, one that could be life-threatening. Bob, hearing the doctor’s mumbled excuse, only shook his head. What was new? His boss had never been able to keep his hands off his wife.
Five minutes later, the screams Staffan Aehrenthal had warned the doctor about began.
“What’s that?” Annie, his nurse, gasped.
“Oh my God—”
Dr. Jackson said hastily, “The patient is just delirious.”
“Please, no more—”
“And, ah, the patient is really suffering.”
Inside the clinic, Staffan’s body shook with laughter while Saffi moaned in embarrassment, both of them having clearly heard the conversation between the doctor and the nurse outside.
“I’m not going to talk anymore,” Saffi swore.
Staffan’s brow lifted. “Really, H?” Pulling out of her, he gently flipped his wife on her stomach and was just as careful as he guided her legs down the floor. This was her favorite position. She was too shy to tell him it was so, but she didn’t need to, not when he knew everything about her.
Saffi found herself gripping the edge of the desk. She was nervous and excited, knowing what would come next—
“Ooooooooooh.”
She couldn’t stop herself from moaning out loud as Staffan thrust into her, his hips pressing hard against her as his thick cock filled her pussy. Dimly, Saffi heard the nurse say sadly, “She really sounds like she’s in so much pain.”
Staffan grinned when Saffi jerked in mortification at the words. Wanting to tease her even more, he reached for her clitoris, knowing she would protest because right now, the pleasure would feel like it was too much for her—
Saffi tensed when she felt Staffan’s fingers start to move, and she tensed even more when she realized where they were heading—
“Staffan, no, not my clit!”
Outside the clinic, the nurse let out a gasp.
Inside the clinic, Saffi gasped, too, for a very different reason.
****
Exactly four hours later, a gum-snapping Saffi and a satisfied-looking Staffan came out of the clinic. Curving an arm around his wife’s waist, he told the doctor, “Thank you for the use of your clinic.”
With his six-digit check in his pocket, Dr. Jackson said generously, “Feel free to use it anytime.”
Outside the train station, Bob said, “The boat’s on standby and we have your usual room reserved at the hotel. You want to ride a bike to the port, boss, or do we just walk?”
Staffan glanced at Saffi. “You choose.”
“Walk.”
“Walk it is.” He nodded at Bob, and taking it as a dismissal, the older man herded off his
security team, knowing that the couple preferred to be followed at a discreet distance.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Staffan’s fingers laced with hers as they walked.
She said laughingly, “I’m pregnant, not sick.”
He said stubbornly, “The moment I think you’re too tired, we stop walking, no arguments.”
As they crossed the street, she noticed a cool-looking blonde gazing at them, and not in the way groupies and fangirls tended to do. “Staffan, do you know that woman?”
Following her gaze, Staffan stiffened in recognition. “She’s Rathe’s ex.”
Saffi was surprised. “Rathe actually had a girlfriend?” From all the gossip she had heard about the duke, none of it had hinted about any serious relationship.
“She was what you’d call…an example,” Staffan said curtly. “What I’m about to tell you is common knowledge, but it’s also not something Constantijin or I like to talk about.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I just want you to understand Rathe better. His parents have a huge age gap, and it’s something that other children used to bully him with in the past. They called him the pedophile’s son. Long story short, Marigold was one of those who called Rathe that behind his back, and he found a way to…turn the tables on her.”
The way Staffan said the last words made Saffi wince. She didn’t think she wanted to know how exactly the duke had turned the tables on the English beauty.
“Well, I’m glad she’s not his first love or anything because that would be just too ghastly. Rathe definitely doesn’t deserve someone like her,” she said staunchly.
Staffan dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “You are, as always, wonderfully biased, H.”
“I’m just being honest.” She paused. “But you know, I really didn’t know that he has such a huge hang-up about age gaps. Does that mean…” She bit her lip. “Nah.”
Staffan gazed at his wife in bemusement. “What?”
“Do you think—” She tried to imagine Mary and Rathe together. Her shy, unassuming eighteen-year-old friend and the sophisticated and analytical thirty-four-year-old duke. It was possible they could meet since Staffan had managed to get Rathe to look after her fish, and Mary’s dorm room was at the same floor as hers.
