by Marian Tee
Did she do this for the prince, too?
The thought came out of nowhere and Staffan reacted instinctively even as his arousal reached its peak. Staffan wrenched himself out of her mouth and she let go with a cry, taken by surprise at the roughness of his move. He rose to his knees without a word, jerking himself off as their gazes locked with each other.
And then he was coming with a guttural groan.
“Why?” Saffi whispered the question when she could see that he was completely spent, his dick lying against his belly in a semi-erect state.
His eyes blazed at her. “You have to fucking ask?” Staffan snarled.
She swallowed. “Staffan---”
“I don’t know what fucking game you’re playing, wanting me to have sex with you. But I have never had a taste for another man’s leftovers and you’re no fucking exception.”
Bile rose at her throat at Staffan’s obvious contempt, humiliation at his rejection making Saffi want to cover her nakedness. But when he turned to leave, she couldn’t help cry out his name.
Staffan stilled but did not turn to face her.
“We had an agreement, Staffan.” Her voice was uneven but determined. “I want you in my bed every night and that still…stands. Even if we don’t…do anything.” She gripped the bed sheets, twisting them into knots, using it a way to release her tension. “And since you think I’m such a deceitful bitch, then you won’t risk backing out of our agreement. Because your siblings are lovely---”
“Leave them out of this!”
She closed her eyes. I’m sorry, Saffi silently apologized to Edana and Cairo even though she hoped they would never know she was using them as bargaining chips. Turning her back to Staffan, she said quietly, “Then stay with me every night. That’s all I want.”
Staffan didn’t answer. But as she curled herself into a ball under the covers, she heard him moving behind her. He took the top layer off, the one that was now wet with his come, and she dimly heard him throw them on the floor. The bed dipped under his weight and then he was lying next to her, the space between them like a cliff that she couldn’t ever cross.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears fell.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, hating everything about his fucking life. And just when he thought she was finally sleeping, he heard her say his name in a tear-choked whisper.
“Staffan?”
Saffi knew he was awake, but Staffan didn’t answer. The tears fell faster because somehow, his silence was like being rejected all over again.
Chapter Six
Chloe Gustav: Spotted in Orlando!
Twitter: Aehrenthal_Fanatics
“Where are you going?” Saffi winced at the sharpness of her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound like that, but fear and worry made it so. She had been painfully relieved when upon their arrival back in the States, Bob had driven both of them back to Orlando. A part of her dreaded finding out that she would have to stay in her dorm room alone for the rest of the semester, but Silver had apparently arranged for both of them to live off campus.
The two-room apartment had just the right amount of space for a couple, with a minimalist feel to it. The maroon accents were a nice contrast and gave the place some color. The sight of her – their – new home had given Saffi hope. She thought it could be a fresh start for them - until she saw Staffan preparing to leave.
Staffan was dressed to kill. Scarf, sweater, striped shirt, faded jeans and boots – it was rock star casual, the kind that only someone as unfailingly fashionable as Staffan could carry out. Normally, she would be glad to see him wearing that, but it was different now. Staffan was still furious with her, and she couldn’t forget the fact that the man before her did still happen to be Sweden’s #1 Sex God.
Staffan’s tone was chilly when he asked, “Do I fucking ask you where you are going?”
“No, but---”
“Then don’t fucking do it to me because what I do on my own time is none of your fucking business.”
His gaze was contemptuous and it hurt Saffi to realize that such a look was slowly losing its sting. She was getting used to it, this hatred from Staffan, and she wondered hysterically if that was a good or bad thing.
“This marriage is a farce so don’t start acting like you’re a fucking housewife and I’m going to cherish you like a besotted groom. I married you because your family blackmailed me into it, but they can’t force me to pretend that I’m goddamn happy with this shit.”
“But you can be.” She couldn’t keep silent, couldn’t help appealing to Staffan one more time. And Saffi knew she would probably do it again and again even if it killed her. Because she loved him and because she knew he had loved her – still loved her.
“If you just listened to me,” she said brokenly. “If you just let me explain---”
“YOU ALWAYS GODDAMN LIE!”
Saffi whitened.
“Don’t you fucking understand? I can’t fucking trust you because there was never a day that you didn’t lie and I’m beginning to think I fell in love with a fucking psycho who can’t stop lying!”
She started to cry, and she couldn’t stop crying when Staffan cursed.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” The door slammed shut behind Staffan, and somehow it felt like he was effectively shutting her out of his life as well.
****
“Don’t mind them.” Mary couldn’t figure out if she was warning or pleading with her mentor as the interest in Saffi just kept growing, and not in a good way. The stares and whispers were something she had a feeling Saffi was already used to. But the snide comments were so much worse and even Mary was feeling weak at just how spiteful everyone was being.
If only this line would just move faster, Mary despaired silently. Normally, queues for the Registrar’s Office were nonexistent. It was just their luck to line up at the same time the freshmen had been asked to update their records. Now, Mary and Saffi had been forced to listen to everyone bitch about Saffi’s love life – they had been listening to it for only fifteen minutes, but in Mary’s mind it felt like forever.
Saffi forced herself to smile for the younger girl’s sake. Mary was very aptly named, and she had a gentleness about her that helped Saffi keep calm. Before she could answer, the girls behind her were talking again, loudly.
“Some whores just can’t get enough of dicks.”
“Yeah, like fucking terrorists aren’t enough---”
The comment got to Saffi and she whirled around, unable to believe someone could be so blatantly racist. “Excuse me?”
The two girls were just about her age, both of them artificial blondes and dressed in identical Burberry dresses, Ferragamo boots, and clutching matching Gucci purses.
Great, Saffi thought. Jeremy was being badmouthed by the Olsen twins in knockoff designer outfits. Because they were fake, even though most people wouldn’t have known it. But then, that was one of the perks of being Pearl Beaufort’s daughter.
Burberry Blond One looked uneasy at being confronted publicly, but she quickly hid it behind a derisive smile. “Do you want me to repeat it?”
“Yes,” Saffi said calmly, “I do. Because I’m going to have you reported for racism and discrimination, which are considered major offenses in this university.”
Burberry Blond 2 came to her friend’s defense, snapping, “You think you’ve got it all, don’t you? Even though Staffan Aehrenthal married you, don’t think it’s going to last. It won’t! So if you’ve lined up here to have your name changed, don’t bother.”
“Ah, but I will bother. Because, you know, I’m rich and I can afford to pay again to have my name changed back if it doesn’t work out.” She looked pointedly at the dress, the purse, and the boots. “I’m really, really, really rich.” She stroked her original Chanel purse.
Twenty minutes later, Mary was still laughing as she recounted Saffi’s earlier confrontation. “That was so awesome, Saffi!”
“It wasn’t really,” Saffi
confided guiltily. “I’ve never done something like that before.” She took out her phone and started checking Twitter, needing to know if there was some way that what happened had already made it on the Internet.
“Rub people’s noses in your wealth---like that kind of something?” Mary teased.
Saffi made a face. “Jeremy was a victim of bullying and racism when he was young so it just touched a nerve.” She started to say something more, but then she saw the most recent tweets mentioning her and she paled.
Correctly interpreting the look because she had also seen how the fangirl community reacted to the news of Staffan and Saffi’s wedding, Mary said quietly, “Don’t let what they’re saying get to you, Saffi. You know how they are. They’re just reeling because they didn’t see this coming. And they don’t know the truth.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“They’ll understand eventually, the moment you and Staffan work things out---” Mary stopped speaking when Saffi looked at her with sudden horror, her eyes wide and dark with anxiety.
“What is it?”
“Chloe – Staffan’s ex…she’s here---as in here, today, now.”
****
A trail left by fangirls was always easy to follow since they had a tendency to be very detailed. In no time, she was able to pinpoint Chloe Gustav’s exact location – a hotel owned by the Aehrenthal family. The moment Saffi passed through the doors, she nearly drowned under the chorus of greetings she received from all the employees. Everyone referred to her as Mrs. Aehrenthal – the first time she heard herself being called that. It was surreal and just a little heartbreaking, leaving Saffi rubbing her eyes to get rid of the tears as she entered the lobby café.
When she opened her eyes again, Chloe Gustav stood in front of her, a catty smile on her still-beautiful face. “I was thinking it could not be you, but I see that it is you.”
Saffi wanted to puke. This was Staffan’s first love, the girl who had single-handedly ruined Staffan’s life. No matter what she did, even if this whole stupid scandal about their baby hadn’t blown up in the newspapers, Saffi had a sinking feeling that she could never replace Chloe in Staffan’s heart. First loves were special – she should know since…since Staffan was her first love.
Chloe was heading to one of the tables next to the windows, her hips swaying with each move. Tall and svelte, she was like an overgrown Marilyn Monroe minus the beauty mark. Saffi followed behind slowly, stumbling once before she caught herself, feeling naked under the awkward gazes of the staff around them. One of them would report what was happening to Staffan – she was sure of it.
When they sat across each other, Saffi saw to her satisfaction that Chloe’s age was beginning to show. It was such a small thing, but she needed all the motivation she could get. With every second that passed, Saffi felt like Staffan was drifting closer and closer to this woman’s arms. And she just couldn’t let that happen – she would do anything not to let that happen.
“You shouldn’t be here, you know.” Chloe fired the opening salvo. She felt like she had to. The papers hadn’t done her justice. In those grainy photos, Sapphire March – now the new Mrs. Staffan Aehrenthal – had simply appeared young and unsure. The first part rankled, making Chloe want to take advantage of the latter.
But faced with Staffan’s stunningly beautiful bride, Chloe could feel every year of her age – and more – showing up on her thrice-lifted face. This was the kind of woman she had always hated and envied when she and Staffan had been living on the other side of the fence as children. They had only been able to look enviously at what was happening with the wealthy ones.
Before Staffan’s child bride could answer, Chloe sneered, “Little girls have nothing to do with adult business.” She expected the girl to get mad, perhaps even cry, but the only thing this one did was look at her steadily with clear blue eyes.
It was unnerving, the way those eyes seemed to hide nothing and see everything, and especially when Staffan’s new wife started to speak. “Staffan is my husband, Ms. Gustav.” Her voice was strained but cultured.
Flustered by the younger woman’s unexpected poise and mad at herself for feeling that way, Chloe shot back, “Based on what I hear, he doesn’t want to be your husband. They say you forced him to be your baby’s daddy when everyone knows it’s the prince’s.”
The words made Saffi twist her hands on her lap, and she was thankful they were hidden from view under the table. She adjusted the napkin on her lap to give her an excuse to break her eye contract with Chloe. If she felt this bad that the whole world seemed to be laughing at Staffan for being cuckolded, how much worse did Staffan actually feel?
“He’s the man I love, Ms. Gustav.” When Saffi lifted her gaze to meet Chloe’s eyes, she didn’t bother hiding her emotions. They were plainly visible in her eyes for everyone to see. “He’s the man I’ll always love so please don’t make trouble for him again.”
The words were so earnestly spoken Chloe could feel herself whitening. Memories of the past she had tried so hard to forget came back. Once – once she had been as idealistic as this girl. But reality soon taught her that life was a lot different from what she imagined it would be in her head. She had left Staffan, hoping that by marrying someone with the right background, she would finally feel complete and vindicated.
But the marriage had only made Chloe feel displaced, like she was a square peg forcing herself to fit into an elite and restrictive circle.
Deliberately pushing her bitter thoughts away, Chloe said tightly, “You’re barking at the wrong tree. It’s not my fault that Staffan always wants to help me.” Before the other woman could speak, she said in a hard voice, “He loved me. He was head over heels in love with me and though I left him, I didn’t cheat on him like you did.”
The words were like a punch in the gut, and the pain she felt almost caused her to double over. She could feel the baby inside her moving urgently, as if reacting to her discomfort. She held her stomach protectively, willing her baby to calm down. It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…we’ll fix this. Mommy…will do everything to fix this.
With trembling fingers, she reached for her purse and took out two things that had Chloe raising her brow: a pen and a checkbook.
“State your price, Ms. Gustav,” she said tonelessly. “Whatever it is that you need from Staffan – I’ll give it to you. Just please don’t bother him again. I know…I know I’ve hurt him, too, but---” Saffi looked away, unable to bear seeing Chloe’s face as she admitted a painful fact. “---it doesn’t mean that you can have him back. It only means neither of us---” Saffi’s voice caught. Her fingers tightened around the pen as she forced herself to say the words. “It only means neither of us deserves him.”
Chapter Seven
@Aehrenthal_fanatics Staffan Aehrenthal is a WIMP with a LIMP DICK.
Twitter: GossipXRag
“Do you see it, Staffan?” Yanna’s stressed voice came through clearly, and he didn’t need to look at the iPad’s screen to know that Yanna was probably crying now.
I’m so sorry. All the negative write-ups about Staffan Aehrenthal are my fault. Please believe me when I say there is nothing going on between me and Prince Jeremy Al-Atassi. I am in love and will always be in love with my husband.
The words changed, but the restrained note of intense hurt remained the same. It was Saffi, basically groveling for people’s understanding as his fans rained torrents of abuse towards her on the Internet.
“Constantijin told me not to meddle, but I just…I just don’t believe that Saffi cheated on you, Staffan. She loves you so much.”
He pressed a button to lock the screen of his iPhone, closing his eyes in an effort to will away the words of apology that Saffi had typed in response to his bashers.
Please don’t speak of Staffan Aehrenthal that way. He’s not a fool and he won’t ever be so. His only mistake was not to realize how foolish I could be. But I love him.
No one can ever measure up to Staffan Aehrent
hal in my eyes. He’s everything I could and would ever want in a husband.
Saffi had been typing the same words over and over from the moment he had married her, and she continued to do so even after he had rejected her when she tried to seduce him in his parents’ home.
“Just please listen to her,” Yanna begged. “Look at how she’s telling the world over and over---”
“It’s a goddamn act, Yanna.” Staffan did his best to keep his tone even, not wanting Yanna to bear the brunt of his anger. “She’s fooled all of us and she’s fooling you still. Even if it were my baby, she still fucking lied to me and I don’t even fucking know if she’s still seeing the prince or not.”
“She married you---”
“Of course she married me,” he exploded. “It’s fucking campaign season and her mother’s sick. I’m a face-saving excuse, that’s all I fucking am to her!” Bitterness filled him as the words left his mouth because he knew it was true. Pearl Beaufort was just the spark that set things in motion, but at the end of the day, the cold hard facts were undeniable.
The fucking prince had a new betrothed, her senator father was running for re-election, and they needed a way to prevent Saffi from becoming a goddamn brick around their necks and not have the family pride stomped upon again.
Yanna bit her lip in misery, stemming the flow of words that wanted to come out of her mouth. The cold hard look on Staffan’s face told her that whatever she would say or do would be futile. “I know you won’t believe me if I defend Saffi over and over to you, Staffan – but at least listen to me when I tell you that a woman in love knows when another woman feels the same way as she does. I love Constantijin with all my heart and everything I feel for him – I see it in Saffi’s eyes…and it’s all for you.”
