When Fangirls Lie (26 page)

And then he stunned her by speaking in a voice that was neither loud nor soft but just enough for everyone to hear if they wanted to – and of course they wanted to.

“I’d give you anything you want in the world, Saffi, but I’m not letting you go without a fight this time.”

Somewhere behind her, a girl shrieked, as if carried away by the fierceness in Staffan’s tone.

Saffi could only empathize. Her own heart was beating so madly it was a miracle she could hear anything beyond it. She shook her head in confusion. “Staffan---why are you doing this? Can’t you see it’s not going to work?”

“It will if you give it a try---”

“I did give us a try,” she cut him off tonelessly. “And you responded by practically having sex with another woman in front of me.”

Staffan whitened. “I was a fucking ass. I’d kill myself a hundred times if it means taking away the hurt that caused you – but I can’t. All I can tell you right now was I was a fool. I hadn’t trusted you. I let my bitterness about Chloe color my perception. All I can do now is to prove to you that I will love you every fucking day of my life---devote every fucking minute of it to making you happy.”

The words were so exquisitely beautiful it broke Saffi’s heart to ignore them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.” She ran away then, and she ran even faster when she heard Staffan calling for her before taking after her.

Moon-walking mudskipper!

“Saffi!”

She was gasping loudly now, trying to catch her breath as she did her best to run away from Staffan in her ball gown and high heels. Thank God the crowd had forgotten all about restraint, crowding towards him and begging for autographs and having their picture taken with him.

“Goddammit, Saffi!”

He was still after her?
How could he have gotten past those man-hungry vamps so quickly?

A familiar-looking guy suddenly popped in front of her. He was decent looking even though his hair was combed so flatly it stuck to his scalp. “H-hi, Sapphire. I just wanted to tell you congratulations for a job well done.” His voice was sincerely admiring as he added, “I still can’t imagine how you were able to write a new research study every week for the school year.”

“Saffi!”

Staffan’s voice made her swallow, but she managed not to look over her shoulder as she told the guy, “It’s just really because I’m the biggest nerd.” She jumped when Staffan called for her again, this time sounding too close. Physically, emotionally, mentally – he was just too close for comfort.

“Saf---”

She panicked. “Umm, Mike, right?”

His shoulders slumped. “Actually, I’m---”

She cut him off. “Care to dance?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, she pulled him to the middle of the dance floor and threw her arms around him. There. That should stop Staffan. He had always prided himself for being cool. He had always been possessive and jealous, but his pride would never allow him to actually fight another man over a woman.

Not after what Chloe did to him.

Staffan broke into a stop at the edge of the dance floor, recent exertions making him breathe a little harder than usual. Was she fucking serious? Was she really going to fucking let another man get his dick close to her body in a slow dance just to keep him away? And did she really think that would keep him away?

Ah Saffi March.

As always, she proved to be bad for his ego but good for his heart, with the way she could give him a cardio workout like no other. As for her talent for turning what was supposed to be the most dramatic moment in their lives into a fucking scene worthy of a Golden Globe for Best Sitcom? It was
priceless.

But what he probably loved most about Saffi was her propensity
not
to think things through, proving again and again how she was the opposite of the majority of calculating bitches in the world.

Had Saffi forgotten she was on a fucking dance floor?

This was his world, not hers.

He went to the DJ, quietly said what he needed, and waited.

~~~

Saffi stiffened when Jay-Z and Justin Timberlake’s collaboration for Suit & Tie was cut mid-song and she stiffened even more when it was replaced by the first few notes of a song that was hypnotically seductive…and terribly familiar.

Poison.

The song that launched Staffan into stardom, the song that Staffan crooned as he introduced her to the wonders of his unique brand of hand selection---
twisting tonguefish!
It was the kind of déjà vu Saffi didn’t need right now.

And then she heard Staffan singing.
Live.

She whirled around.

Staffan didn’t make any move to walk to her, as if giving her a chance to continue dancing with Mike, Mark---whatever his name was, giving her a chance to shame him the way Chloe had in the past. Then his humiliation had been private, a matter between the two of them. But now he was giving her the upper hand, a chance to demolish him in front of everyone.

She started to cry, her knees giving way but before she could stumble into her partner’s chest, sure fingers had wrapped around her wrist, spinning her away. The next thing she knew, she was in Staffan’s arms, staring up at his glittering eyes as he sang. To her. For her.

He started to move, his body fluid, strong, and graceful, and Saffi’s body moved with his like magic, like she never had two left feet all along. “I love you,” she whispered.

Staffan’s eyes shone brightly, but he didn’t stop singing, dancing---
didn’t stop showing her off to the crowd.
There was no hand selection, but somehow this dance felt even more intimate, turning Saffi into a blushing tongue-tied statue as the last notes of his song died down.

Applause followed, rocking the ballroom, and then Staffan tipped her chin up.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. She was finally back in his arms, seemingly willingly, but a tiny part of him still doubted his good fortune. “Forgive me, Saffi,” he whispered, not caring that his lapel microphone was broadcasting every word.

Her mouth parted in silent shock, tears raining down on her cheeks. She couldn’t believe someone as proud as Staffan was apologizing to her in public. She tried to speak and couldn’t, her throat constricted with emotions. All she could do was nod.

Staffan took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. There were sighs all over the ballroom again, with every woman knowing that Staffan Aehrenthal had to be in love. After all, the rockstar was famous for not doing romantic, for being overly sexual with everything, for being proud about not being a gentleman.

“Why are you doing this?” she blurted out.

He answered her with a boyish-looking grin, which put her knees in danger of giving way again.

“If I was her, I’m not going to fucking ask why,” a woman muttered behind Saffi. “I’ll just fuck him.”

Saffi paid it no attention. She was getting used to the fact that virtually every woman would have an opinion about anything that Staffan did.

“You’re really asking me that?”

She frowned. “Shouldn’t I be?”

He raised a brow. “You tell me. I distinctly remember you saying in your Facebook that this was how I proposed---”

Saffi gasped. “Staffan!” She closed her eyes, unable to look at Staffan or anywhere else since she was surrounded by people all around. Oh my God. She couldn’t believe that Staffan had read that! “It was a joke,” she said weakly, eyes still welded shut. If she had her way, she was going to live her life like this from now on. It would keep her immune to embarrassment.

He pressed feather soft kisses on her eyelids, chuckling when she blushed and squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. “Saffi.”

“Please let’s not talk in front of everyone anymore?”

He ignored that. “I love you.”

Her eyes flew open. “
Staffan.
”

He cupped her face. “Life with you will be one eternally wonderful dance, a sweet waltz, a passionate tango, a crazy breakdance---”

Staffan thought about the way she couldn’t lie to save her life, the way she talked about fish all the time, and how adorably sweet she was in the quirkiest ways.

He grinned. “When we dance, the music will be something only the two of us can understand.” Staffan kissed her nose. “And that’s exactly how I want it because it means you’re mine alone and…”

She sniffed. “Staffan.”

He said simply, “I’m yours alone.”

“Staffan!”

He grinned. His beautiful and adorable H – who was also his prim little Saffi – had wailed his name this time, and then she suddenly literally jumped into his arms, forcing Staffan to take a few steps back as his arms immediately went around her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, legs around his waist and kissed him. It wasn’t proper at all. She knew that. This was something H and not Saffi would do, but right now she didn’t care. “I love you,” she whispered, crying the words against his mouth.

Ah Saffi March.

He teased, “I think I recall you posting a photo of a couple doing this exact same thing in Instagram and telling your followers that this was what we did because I missed you so much after my trip to Asia---”

She pulled back. “Staffan!” Saffi didn’t know if she should be flattered or terrified that he knew so much about her. “Did you stalk me online or something?”

Her words sounded too eerily close to how Constantijin and Yanna described his activities, and Staffan snapped, “No.”

“But how did you know---”

“Quiet.” And to make sure she shut up, he kissed her again, this time making her lips part so he could drive his tongue inside and taste her again.

She moaned, and he groaned with her. Ignoring the wide-eyed crowd, he walked with single-minded determination towards the DJ booth set up in the corner. It was an assembled cubicle with one glass wall and the rest made in reinforced plastic.

He only had to look at the DJ for the headset-wearing guy in hoodie to scramble past him.

Saffi managed to pull her lips away when she heard a loud bang, just in time to see Staffan draw the blinds closed to cover the glass wall of the DJ’s booth. Her eyes went wide. Here was yet another moment of déjà vu, and yet another thing she didn’t know if she should be happy about or not.

She wriggled out of his arms. “Staffan, no---”

“Yes.” He took one step closer to her.

“The whole university is outside. We can’t---don’t get another step closer---this is not the right---no!” She took a step back as he advanced and ended up bumping into the DJ’s table from behind.

He took off his bow tie and shrugged off his jacket. “I need to fuck you. Now.”

“Yoga-ing yellow fin tuna,” she said weakly, her mouth going dry. Those fuck-me eyes of his could make her do anything, and Staffan knew it.

He choked, pausing with the buttons of his dress shirt. “Yoga-ing, Saffi? Are you fucking for real?”

She was so far gone now, heady with desire, that all she could do was push herself up the table, throw her skirts up, and push her panties down. It hadn’t even gotten past her knee before Staffan was on her, pushing Saffi to her back. One hand went to pull her neckline down while his other hand fumbled to unzip his pants.