When Fangirls Cry (5 page)

            Saffi.

            A tall dark man walked beside to her, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

            Damn you to hell, Saffi March.

            Damn you to hell.

Saffi March set her Facebook account to private.

            Saffi’s father stood and immediately went around his desk the moment the door to his office opened. At the senator’s nod, the secretary reluctantly closed the door behind Staffan Aehrenthal, a still-dazed look on her face. She could not believe she had just seen the famous rock star in her boss’ office. Most times, his guests were boring old farts and snooty women from his old hometown. None of them certainly deserved the title ‘sex god’, even if they were to walk in here naked.

            Maybe, she mused, this had to do with the scandal poor Sapphire March had become recently embroiled in – maybe the very same reason that the men of the March family were now here
en masse.

           
Senator Samuel March was tall and distinguished looking, his patrician features only made more handsome by age. At the other side of the expansive office stood three men. They had a look of privilege to them, and even the youngest of them appeared immensely self-assured.

            Staffan despised them all on sight, especially the fucking prince whose name was still being linked to
her
. The man was too handsome for his own good, and he even had a fucking princely air about him, as if it was part of his day job to rescue damsels in distress.

            Did that fucking include knocking up a girl who already belonged to another man?

            Senator March moved forward, asking politely, “Staffan Aehrenthal?”

            Staffan forced himself to look away from the royal asshole. He took the hand offered to him and shook it, answering mockingly, “Senator March?” If the old man thought he’d fucking kowtow to him just because he had a seat in the fucking government, then he would be fucking mistaken. The old man should be thankful Staffan retained enough of his manners to call him by his title when he wasn’t even American.

            The senator didn’t appear to mind the mocking tone to his voice. He only nodded, continuing in the same polite voice, “Thank you for accepting my invitation, even if it was on such short notice.” He gestured to the seating area at the side. “Shall we?”

            Staffan followed the old man, sitting only when the others had taken their seats. He was alone on the couch. Across him, the prince and Saffi’s oldest brother sat beside each other. The younger brother and Saffi’s father took the armrests flanking Staffan’s sides.

In all, it was like the March family against him, a declaration that also meant they considered the prince a part of their family.

Staffan’s eyes became cold, but his voice and smile were perfectly charming as he looked at the prince. “Jeremy Al-Atassi, isn’t it? Or should I call you Your Highness?”

“Whichever you prefer,” the prince responded evenly.

           
Cold fucking bastard
, Staffan thought. If this was Saffi’s first love, then her taste had gotten a lot better by hooking up with him. At least Staffan was human. This one seemed like a fucking statue.

            “Mr. Aehrenthal, I’m assuming you know why we’ve invited you here.”

            “It was more like a fucking threat to be court-marshaled, but yeah, thanks for the invitation.” Staffan was grimly satisfied to see Silver March stunned at his use of invectives while the prince’s lips silently tightened. Yeah, well, this was the real him and he would not fucking change anything about who he was.

            “I apologize if that was how it seemed, but it was imperative we talk to you as soon as possible.”

            Somehow, the senator’s still-polite voice grated on his nerves, and Staffan just wanted everything to be over. He didn’t fucking need any of the Marches in his life. They had done enough fucking damage, and he doubted he would ever trust a woman again after the number Saffi had done on him.

            But before he could speak, the fucking prince leaned forward, saying in a hard voice, “I’m not the father.”

            “I don’t give a fuck.”

            Everyone except Saffi’s oldest brother reacted to his words.

            The senator whitened, Silver’s face went cold, and Jeremy’s fists clenched, the air in the room suddenly alive with tension.

            Staffan gazed at the prince challengingly, knowing the smirk on his lips would be grating on the other man’s noble nerves. “Throw the first punch,” he invited softly. “And I’ll be more than glad to fucking give you a taste of my own fist.”

            “Unfortunately, that would have to be postponed, however much I look forward to seeing you beaten up myself.” It was the first time for Steel March to speak, his name perfectly apt to describe the way he spoke and gazed at Staffan. There was no compromise, no emotion in his aristocratic-looking face.

            “I will get to the point, Mr. Aehrenthal. You will marry my sister tomorrow---”

            Staffan jerked in his seat.

            “Or your family reads reports about you taking advantage of a nineteen year old.”

            “I didn’t even fucking know she was nineteen,” he said tightly.

            “You know now, Mr. Aehrenthal, but I doubt it makes a difference to you. The fact of the matter is, you care about your mother and stepfather – and it is perhaps the only positive trait you have. We also both know that over the years, you have worked hard to ensure that your younger brother and sister remain unaffected by your, shall we say,
notoriety.
But the news of you practically raping a teenager, one whose childhood trauma is fairly well-known in our circles---are you willing to risk that, Mr. Aehrenthal?”

            Staffan’s own fists clenched at the threat, knowing how such headlines would affect his family’s lives.

            “But that’s not all, Mr. Aehrenthal. We have also taken steps to ensure that your friends’ businesses would not remain unaffected by your transgressions. You
are
a part of the so-called Pussketeers, are you not?”

            The cold disdain in Steel March’s voice hit a raw spot. He sneered, “Yes – and your sister’s pussy was one of those that I fucked.”

            The prince accepted his earlier challenge.

            He threw a punch at Staffan, who swung his fist back. Their bodies slammed against each other with a loud thud as they crashed on the center table. Its glass surface broke, and the two of them fell to the ground, shards of glass pricking their backs.

            Before the March brothers could haul them apart, Jeremy and Staffan managed to throw a few more punches at each other, both their faces snapping to the side at the impact of their blows.

            Jeremy’s nose was bleeding, while Staffan’s lip had a painful cut. Bruises circled both their eyes, which were already starting to change color.

            Staffan wrenched away from Silver March’s hold. “Why the fuck do you want me to marry your sister when we can’t even be fucking sure I’m the father?” He looked at the prince in contempt. “Don’t think I’m not fucking aware about your fucking desert kingdom. Your daddy’s got you to ditch the commoner for a princess, didn’t he?” He turned to Steel next. “And now your baby sister’s without a daddy for her brat, you want to fucking trap me with a shotgun wedding? You need a fucking face-saving excuse so the senator here wins the election?”

            None of the other men spoke.

            When Steel spoke, his voice was mild, a cruelly cryptic smile playing on his lips. “You have the most incredible talent of putting one and one together and coming up with the most inventive theories, Mr. Aehrenthal.” The smile disappeared. “But in this case, hypotheses don’t matter. I will spell out the facts for you. In an hour, we can have the story about you taking advantage of an innocent nineteen-year old girl circulating in the media. In an hour, we will cause problems that will affect the businesses of Constantijin Kastein and Rathe Wellesley, both of whom are
not
American citizens and as such are not a priority of this country.”

            “I could sue you for blackmail, you bastard.”

            “Of course – but by then, the damage would have been done.”

            Staffan said quietly, “You do know that when I marry your sister, I’ll make her life a living hell?”

            Steel did not appear affected. “I’ll ask you this question just once. Are you going to marry my sister or not?”

****

            The soft knock on her door told Saffi the identity of her visitor even before it opened and Steel came walking in. His face was expressionless, but she knew both her brothers well. One look into his eyes, and her heart lurched.

            “You shouldn’t have,” Saffi whispered, weakening at the realization that they had done the unthinkable. She lowered herself on the bed, feeling like all the life had gone out of her.

            Her family had forced Staffan’s hand, and he had said…yes.

Staffan Aehrenthal was going to marry her.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me to make a move,” Steel said flatly.

“He
needed
time, Steel. He loves me. I just needed to find the right time to explain---” Her voice broke. “He’ll just hate me more now.”

“You don’t understand, baby. There is no
time left for any of us.” He crouched down, taking her hands in his. “I would never hurt you for the world, Saffi, but this time you have to be stronger. Mother found out.”

He didn’t have to explain anymore. Saffi squeezed his hands, knowing that Steel was doing his best not to show his fears. But he did fear. They all feared.

Thirty minutes later, Saffi took the seat next to Pearl Beaufort’s bed. A smile wreathed her beautiful face upon seeing Saffi. She raised her hand to touch her daughter’s face, and Saffi tried not to react at the sight of the tubes intravenously connected to Pearl’s veins.

Stress was the main reason Pearl had been confined, their mother losing consciousness once she found out Saffi was pregnant from the tabloids and then learning from Saffi herself that Jeremy wasn’t the baby’s father.

“Is it true, what Samuel said?” Pearl asked.

Saffi didn’t force a smile. Her mother would know if she was pretending. Choosing to stick to the truth as closely as possible, Saffi nodded, saying shakily, “He was angry at first. He thought I was trapping him into marriage, but he understands now.”

Pearl sighed. “I didn’t realize how important the election was until all this happened.”

“You know how Steel is. He’s very protective of us.”

            “But to force you two to marry prematurely?” Pearl exclaimed. Her heart monitor beeped loudly, and Saffi glanced at it in alarm, seeing the way Pearl’s heart rate had become erratic at her words. 

            “Mom, easy now…” She did her best to sound teasing. “We don’t want you to have new wrinkles at my wedding, do we?”

            Pearl grumbled, “If I ever get out of this bed soon.”

            “That you don’t have to worry about since we’ll have the wedding ceremony here.”

            “What?” Pearl sounded shocked, but she also sounded pleased and Saffi knew that they had all done the right thing. The look of happiness on Pearl’s face was more than worth every lie they had uttered – and every threat they had needed to use to get Staffan to marry her.

            Saffi stood up, pressing a kiss on Pearl’s forehead. “I love you, Mom.” She would never forgive herself if something happened to Pearl because of her. The doctor had been explicit with his diagnosis. Pearl had a weak heart, and undue stress could easily trigger an attack. She would gladly do anything to ensure that Pearl would get better – and that included losing Staffan’s love.