by Marian Tee
There was the smallest flicker of pain in Saffi’s eyes, but Staffan hardened himself against it. Whatever he fucking did would be nothing in comparison to the damage she had wrought in his life. He had fallen for her like a fucking idiot, had begged her to come back like a fool, and all that time she had probably been laughing at him behind his back.
Nineteen-fucking-years-old and she had easily wound a man in his thirties around her privileged little finger.
The memories stung, and it forced Staffan to clench and unclench the fist he had under the table to release his anger. When he was certain he had himself back in control, he told Saffi, “You know what they say.”
Her head cocked to the side – such a fucking innocent gesture that used to turn him on, but now all it did was turn his stomach, reminding Staffan of the times she had so easily seduced him into believing she loved him.
The barely concealed contempt in Staffan’s hazel eyes made Saffi swallow, but she still insisted on asking, “What do you mean?”
“About the enemies of our enemies being our friends,” he taunted softly.
He expected her to get mad, to look hurt---to want to get even. But Saffi only gave him what looked like a pained nod, as if it took everything in her to do that one small thing.
“I understand.” It killed her to say the words, but she told herself she owed it to Staffan. She looked up to say more, but the words died in her throat as she saw Staffan’s gaze drifting past her and settling on one of the garden exits of the restaurant, where Vania stood chatting with a small circle of friends.
As if sensing Staffan’s regard, Saffi watched Vania turn to them.
Her dark green eyes flashed with malicious triumph before she smiled at Staffan, wetting her ruby-red lips once more. The carnal invitation there was already blatant, but it was obviously not enough for Vania, who mouthed to Staffan, Join us.
Every second that played out was like a scene straight from her worst nightmare – one she couldn’t wake up from. It just continued, like an unstoppable wave that was only meant to torment Saffi.
Ah, this really…hurt. It so freaking hurt, more than the time she had caught Staffan pleasuring another girl. This time, the hurt was made more unbearable by the knowledge that maybe – maybe she had it in her power to prevent all this. But Saffi had turned her back on that chance because she had been too much of a coward.
Staffan hadn’t mouthed an answer back. She should be glad of that, but that was pretty much impossible too, seeing how Staffan smiled at Vania. His air of assurance, the raw sexuality of his presence, combined with his beautiful seductive smile – all of it was more than answer enough, making the other woman swallow.
When Staffan returned his gaze to Saffi, not having to feign his reluctance because there was nothing he disliked more now than spending even a moment’s time with the little bitch, he uneasily discovered several changes in her appearance.
In just a few days’ time, it was as if she had lost a ton of weight. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, making her appear wan. She looked like she had been fucking shoved down one time too many, and the realization didn’t sit well with him.
It fucking pained him to look at Saffi now. He wanted to shout at her, wanted to demand how the hell could she want the prince over him when he was obviously not treating her right?
“You should eat more,” Staffan said, even though he was unable to keep his tone from being snide. “Royal babies can’t be fucking starved---”
Saffi interrupted with quiet conviction, “Jeremy is not the father of my baby.”
His fist crashed against the table, which shuddered under the impact. Glasses fell to the floor, splintering into pieces as silver cutlery clanged after them. “You’re ruining my fucking day just by saying his name so if you know what’s fucking good for you and your precious prince, don’t ever say his fucking name in my presence again.”
“Staffan.”
He stiffened at the sound of his name on her lips. It felt too right, and that was what made it so goddamn wrong. Emotions that went too far and too deep imploded inside him, and Staffan snatched the dinner napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. “This fucking isn’t going anywhere.”
Before she could react, Staffan had gotten to his feet and was stalking away. Saffi hurried after him even as she wondered numbly if running was good for her baby. By the time she reached the parking lot, Saffi was desperate, half-running and half-walking now, knowing she had little time left to make it to Staffan’s side.
“Wait, please!” She caught hold of his arm from behind and bit back a gasp as he nearly flung her aside in an effort to get away from her. The sun was setting behind Staffan, and it cast a fiery glow around him, forcing Saffi to look away. It was as if the whole world was conspiring against her, making Saffi feel that she no longer had any right to be in Staffan’s life.
“You don’t have to worry,” Staffan snarled as he turned away from his car to face her again. “I’ll fucking marry you tomorrow because your goddamn family has left me no choice.”
“We don’t have any choice either,” she whispered. “Please understand---”
“I fucking understand everything now,” he hissed. “I know that you’re a slutty bitch---”
“No!” Gazing up at Staffan, willing him to look at her eyes to see the truth, she said tremulously, “You know it’s not like that---you know I’m not like that, Staffan. You know that. You’re just blinded by your anger.” Her voice aching with the sobs she was doing her best to keep inside her, Saffi choked out, “I never made love to Jeremy. Please, please believe me. I’ve only been touched by you---”
“Then why, Saffi?” His low agonized tone made Saffi’s head jerk up. “Give me a reason that I’ll believe in. Make me understand why the fuck you didn’t tell me about the baby the first time you learned about it, tell me why the fuck you went to buy a pregnancy test with that royal asshole if he wasn’t the father of your baby.” He looked at her, and all the pain and anger in his eyes translated to his words as he shouted, “TELL ME WHY.”
He gripped her shoulders hard. “Give me a fucking good reason to not feel like all kinds of a fool tomorrow, when the reporters find out we’re getting married and everyone knows your baby’s not mine.”
“I was scared!” The words were torn out of Saffi, and she started to cry. “I’m sorry for lying, but I was just scared. After everything that happened to us, I just wanted some time to make you love me more---”
“STOP LYING!” He shook her so hard with each word that Saffi knew his touch would leave bruises. “I know everything now, so stop lying. Your prince dumped you because you were a commoner. He has a princess now, so the fact that you’re a senator’s daughter doesn’t mean shit to him. And because of that, you thought it would be better to have me as your backup daddy---”
“No. No! No!” She tried to shrug his hold away but he didn’t let go, forcing Saffi instead to lift her hands up within the cage of his arms. She cupped his face and this time, she was the one not letting go. She would never let him go, and Saffi needed him to see that.
“Staffan, please listen to me. Please just listen. How can you so easily believe that everything we had was a lie?”
But his face remained cold. “Because I’ve fucking been there, Saffi. I knew Chloe my whole life and she still goddamn threw me away. And I’ve fucking known you for what? A fraction of my life?”
His hands fell from her shoulders. Staffan took her hands away from his face and she was forced to let him go, her heart breaking as she did.
Staffan stepped away from her, saying between clenched teeth, “I’m going to marry you, Saffi. But it’s going to be the marriage from hell---”
Saffi threw herself at Staffan and kissed him. She locked her arms around his neck and kissed him with all that she was worth, pouring every drop of love she could squeeze out of her battered heart, and using every technique she had learned from every sensuous night she had spent in his arms
.
“You can try,” she whispered against his lips as she tightened her hold around his neck. “But I will also do my best to make our marriage a match made in heaven. Because I love you, Staffan, and I’m going to make you believe me. I’m going to do everything I can, seduce you, adore you, love you---everything.” Tears started to fall, but she spoke in spite of them, whispering, “I’m a fangirl, Staffan, and we fangirls don’t give up that easily.”
She let go before he could push her away, stepping back before he could do something - say something to force her to take her words back.
In front her, Staffan’s face had whitened, his lips tight with rage, his eyes dark with emotions too intense and chaotic for her to comprehend.
“Then try, Saffi. Go fucking try – but don’t you forget that even the most devoted fangirls are still replaceable.” He smiled without mirth. “And I’m not the fucking type to run out of them, don’t you think?”
Chapter Five
Can a Kanye West song be classified as a love song? I’m serious. Can it?
Twitter: starry_eyed4SA
Staffan’s jaw was aching at the effort it took to smile as he listened to Saffi announce that she was about to read her 100% personalized vows. His original plan for the wedding was to act like a first-class prick, but in the face of Pearl Beaufort-March’s gentle countenance, he was fucking unmanned.
She looked frail and beautiful in her white suit, seated in her wheel chair with the senator standing behind her. When Pearl beckoned him to lower himself, Staffan had found himself doing so. “Thank you for loving my daughter, Staffan Aehrenthal.” The sweetly whispered words had him swallowing back his bitterness, the irony not lost on him. Because he did still love Sapphire March, whether he wanted to or not.
Constantijin let out a loud cough. Staffan’s head turned sharply to him and saw both of his friends looking stoic as they stared with clenched jaws at his soon-to-be bride, as if they were doing their best to hold their emotions back.
He hadn’t really looked at Saffi the moment she entered her mother’s hospital suite, but now it appeared as if he had no choice. His friends were acting damn strange, and Staffan didn’t want to be caught off guard about anything. He forced himself to turn to Saffi.
The sight of her nearly knocked Staffan off his feet.
She made a breathtakingly beautiful bride, her dark hair curled and pinned up, her face framed by a band of tiny pink roses. She wore no veil, and somehow it just made the fact she was a bride – his bride – all the more tangible, with her face bare of makeup except for a dab of pink gloss on her rosebud lips.
She wore a white velvet dress, a hint of cleavage revealed by its sweetheart neckline. It tapered to a tight waist and a semi full skirt, one that swirled just a few inches over her knees. Saffi had matched her dress with white pumps, with the thinnest heels he had ever seen her wear, making her long legs appear even longer.
Her voice faltered, causing Staffan’s gaze to return to her face.
Saffi did her very best not to sigh, cry, and scream at the same time. Surely, this was the result of pregnancy hormones. Never ever had Staffan looked this gorgeous in her eyes, even though he was also as dressed down as she was, with a black suit jacket and pants. Of course, Staffan being Staffan, the pearl-white silk shirt he wore under the jacket was impossibly stylish, something she knew conservative men like her brother Steel or even Jeremy would never even consider wearing.
Clearing her throat, she lifted her copy of her vows and began to read.
Staffan’s eyes widened at what Saffi held in her hands. Those personalized vows of hers were more than a couple pages long. His eyes narrowed. WHAT IN GOD’S NAME --- If his eyes weren’t fooling him, those were typewritten pages, and it wasn’t even double-fucking-spaced.
Constantijin coughed again, and Staffan turned to his friend, distracted. Both Rathe and Constantijin had their jaws clenched hard. He looked back at Saffi.
And then he listened, really fucking listened, to what Saffi had to say.
“The sun goes down, the stars come out, and all that counts is here and now. My universe will never be the same. I’m glad you came. You cast a spell on me, you hit me like the sky fell on me – I’m glad you came...”
She took a deep breath and flipped to the next page. “You make it easy as 1-2, 1,2,3,4. There’s only one thing to do, three words for you – I love you…”
Slowly, Staffan’s jaw clenched hard, too, staying that way as Saffi so beautifully vowed her unwavering love through the words of Mariah Carey, Kanye West, Ne-Yo, and even Nicki Minaj. The entranced expression on Pearl’s face as she listened to her daughter speak her vows was the only thing that kept his iron control intact.
The seventy-year-old judge appeared moved to tears as well, and he turned to Staffan expectantly. “Your vows, son, you may speak them.”
Staffan stilled, completely unsure if he heard the priest correctly.
Saffi turned to him with a similarly expectant expression, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than strangle her at that moment.
Constantijin and Rathe were coughing again.
Ah, fuck. The only things that came to mind were lyrics from rock and roll songs, and that was all Saffi’s fucking fault. Ah, fuck. Think, think. He said in Swedish, “If only you saw what I can see, you’ll understand why I want you so desperately. Right now I’m looking at you and I can’t believe you don’t know you’re beautiful.”
Pearl nodded encouragingly, her eyes shining with tears.
The fuck – One Direction wasn’t enough?
Staffan continued, “Step to the beat of my heart, I don’t need a whole lot, but for you I admit I’d rather give the world or we can share mine. I know I won’t be the first one, giving you all this attention, baby, listen I just need somebody to love.”
By this time, Constantijin and Rathe were coughing so hard that the priest was giving them strange looks.
“That sounded so beautiful,” Pearl breathed.
Yeah, well, that was Justin Bieber for her, Staffan thought.
“Say one last thing for Saffi, please,” Pearl begged prettily just as the priest started to speak.
Staffan wanted to kill himself.
“Please, son?”
Ah, fuck. Mothers were always his fucking weakness. He turned to Saffi. In gruff Swedish, he said the first thing that came to his mind once more. “It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby – I think…” Staffan broke off.
Saffi looked at him questioningly, concern darkening eyes.
Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Staffan finished grimly, “…I wanna marry you.”
The rest of the wedding ceremony was a blur, and the next thing he knew, they had exchanged rings. The judge was pronouncing them married and inviting him to kiss the bride. He started to make an excuse, but Saffi was suddenly there, making her mother laugh in surprise.
Her arms wound around his neck and when she tiptoed, he drew his breath sharply because she still had stars in her eyes. And then her lips covered his.
Staffan’s world stopped turning with that kiss, and his heart stopped beating when Saffi whispered in perfectly good Swedish, “I promise you, Staffan. One day, you’ll know that Bruno Mars was wrong on our count. It’s not a dumb thing to marry me.”
****
Less than an hour later, Staffan and Saffi were strapped in their seats as his private jet took off. He kept his gaze off her, hating himself for still wanting the girl who had fucked him over more than any other person in the world.
Staffan’s cold anger was palpable, but she did her best to ignore it, drawing strength from the gold band that now encircled her finger. Gazing down at it, she asked, “Where are we flying for our honeymoon?” Staffan’s answering laugh made her wince.
“You really think I want you in my fucking bed?”
Yes, Saffi thought. She really did think that, but she supposed it would be better not to say it. O
ut loud, she asked, “Where are we flying then?”
He answered curtly, “Sweden. My parents would like to meet my bride.” He had done his very best to wriggle out of tonight’s visit, but his mother had been insistent.
“She must be devastated, son, to have the whole world thinking that your baby belongs to someone else. She must know we will love her and be behind her all the way.” No doubt, his mother had remembered all the years they had been shunned by the entire town.
Again, she winced at the way he spoke, and she unconsciously covered her stomach with one hand.
Staffan saw the gesture. “We’ll make them believe your baby’s mine.” He looked at her with hard eyes. “And we’ll make them believe that we’re fucking happy together.”
Saffi was quiet at his words, and he didn’t trust it one bit. In a moment, he knew he was right not to do so as she asked, “What’s in it for me?” She winced at Staffan’s torrent of curses.
“How the fuck can you ask something like that after what I did for your mother?”
She forced herself to meet his furious gaze. Even with him probably wishing she was dead, she still couldn’t stop thinking that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, the only man she would ever love. The thought made her stroke her stomach. Little one, don’t listen to your daddy for now. He’s having a…mid-life crisis. Her first words to her baby might be a lie, but it was better than the truth.
She repeated, “What do I get, Staffan?”
“You’re really going to do something this low---”
Saffi shook her head. “It’s not low, Staffan. It’s called fighting for the man I love.” She raised a brow. “So again---”
He asked tersely, “What the fuck do you want then?”
“You. In my bed, every night.”
****
“She is such a sweet little thing, Staffan,” his mother Elvira gushed an hour after meeting Saffi. “Those tabloids are horrible! I’ve done my research too, you know.” She sniffed in disdain as she handed him the platter of roasted turkey. “She and the prince have been friends since childhood. He’s the best friend of her oldest brother – it completely makes sense that she would turn to him for help when you two had an altercation.”
