When Fangirls Lie (4 page)

God he’s so…YUMMY.lol,
she had commented on a photo taken of Staffan wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of black swimming shorts while he had been vacationing in Hawaii. The comment had aroused him – he very much liked the idea of Saffi thinking his body was “yummy” - but it also completely bemused Staffan how someone so obviously smart and proper like Saffi was also a diehard fangirl of his.

Constantijin’s chuckle made him snap defensively, “What?”

His friend looked at him pointedly. “Apparently, there’s no need to wait. You haven’t even seen her in person and she already has you wrapped around her finger. That’s so
sweet
.”

“Shut up.” He pulled on his collar, feeling like the air-conditioning in his room had stopped working. “Just tell me if you sent the tickets or not!”

Constantijin laughed. “It’s done. Stop worrying.”

Staffan’s chest eased, and only then did he realize that he had been partially holding his breath. He had cared that much about the outcome, and the knowledge didn’t sit well with him at all. “You’re sure?”

“I got her signature on the acknowledgment receipt. She got the ticket.”

“But do you know if she’ll use it?”

Constantijin’s smirk mirrored his own, making Staffan realize how fucking arrogant he could look when he was the one doing it.
Irritatingly arrogant
, he thought as Constantijin continued to smirk.

“Well?” Staffan demanded.

“That’s what FB stalking is for.” Constantijin’s bark of laughter echoed throughout the suite when Staffan answered him with a one-fingered response.

His friend gestured towards his laptop. “Just fucking do it while Yanna’s not here to tease you.”

“Go to hell.” But Staffan was already opening his laptop and indulging in his secret hobby for the past three months. By using the Facebook account of his fan club, he was instantly connected to Saffi’s. And her page was very illuminating.

Staffan’s eyes widened when he read the topmost conversation thread at her wall.

Seeing his expression, Constantijin swiftly crossed the room, standing behind his friend to read what was on the screen.

“Goddammit, Kastein. When did you turn into a fucking gossip?” He tried to close his laptop again, but Constantijin quickly swiped his laptop out of the table.

Helene: So you’re all set to go to LA?

Saffi: Yep! I’ve got the concert and plane tickets already. *Sigh* What can I say? He loves me so much that he can’t bear to go on stage without me watching from the front row.

Helene: ROFL

Saffi: No, really. He totally texted me that. He even said he’s going to die if he doesn’t see me!

Helene: Yeah, sure, sure. Enjoy the concert! So happy for you!

Saffi: lol I will. Thanks, Helene! Will post pics as soon as I can.

When Yanna came back, Constantijin was still in the throes of laughter and completely impervious to Staffan’s scowls. Yanna frowned. “What did I miss?”

“Kastein,” he growled in warning.

But his friend was suddenly selectively deaf. He said very seriously, “Let’s just say I found out from an extremely reliable source that our good friend here will apparently die---”

As Yanna gasped, Staffan gritted out, “Shut the fuck up.”

Constantijin laughed harder.

~~~

“L.A.” Saffi’s mother, Pearl, sounded shell shocked as she repeated the name of her youngest child and only daughter’s destination. “And without the bodyguards?”

Saffi answered firmly, “Yes, Mom. Without
any
of the bodyguards.”

A part of the five-way-call that Saffi had initiated, Senator Samuel March – who also happened to be Saffi’s dad – answered darkly, “It’s too dangerous.”

“No, it’s not. I bought first class. I’m checked in at a five-star hotel, and I’ve had the hotel hire my own driver and car while I’m here. You guys always tell me first class is enough to---”

“But
L.A.
”

In spite of her resolve to stand firm, Saffi found herself smiling at the note of real distress in her mother’s voice. There were several coughs from the other ends of the line, and she guessed that her other siblings, Steel and Silver, were doing their best not to laugh out loud.

Pearl Beaufort March was a lady’s lady, a woman who could trace her lineage all the way back to its Mayfair legacy. She had been educated in an all girls’ school and a ladies’ college, and she had
never
taken the Lord’s name in vain.

Saffi was honest enough to admit that she wasn’t the most street smart person in the world, but Pearl was even worse, a throwback from centuries past, the kind who thought women were quite “brazen” to say ‘hi’ to a man without a proper introduction.

“I’m going to be okay, Mom. I promise.”

“But what about your fishies, sis?” This one was from Silver, who was three years older than Saffi. “Can you bear to leave them for the weekend?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hmph! As if you really care.” Even so, she made a mental note to herself to call Mary, the undergrad student living across from her room. Saffi had to make sure Mary would indeed look after her aquatic pets.

Steel, five years older and the more serious minded of her brothers, asked quietly, “Can’t you reconsider, Saffi? At least keep one bodyguard with you.”

“No.” She obeyed them all the time, and had no problems doing so. But this was different. This was…not for them to know about her. “You all know you can trust me, right? I’m not the type to go wild. You know that.” She crossed her fingers as she spoke, hoping God wouldn’t strike her dead for saying such a big whopping fat lie.

All for the love of Staffan Aehrenthal
, she reminded herself.

“Fine,” the senator said in a heavy tone. “You win. But only because you asked it as your birthday gift.”

She grinned. “Love you all.”

“Happy nineteenth,” Samuel said gruffly.

“Happy birthday again, sweetie,” Pearl sniffed out.

“Take care, sis,” Silver added.

“Call me if you need help – any kind of help,” Steel murmured.

Her eyes became wet with tears.

She loved these guys so, so much. They were all so, so perfect she wished she could be like them and not be – literally – the odd fish in the family and a girl too ordinary to be a part of one of America’s most powerful political clans.

~~~

“I see her, boss,” Bob, Staffan’s personal bodyguard, reported from the restricted area next to the stage, a section strictly reserved for VIPs. Basically, that meant a mixture of the rich and famous, groupies with connections, and fan club members who got lucky.

Staffan had given Bob a copy of Saffi March’s photo as well as explicit instructions of what Bob was supposed to do the moment he saw his quarry. And now that he had, Bob was quick to act on his instructions.

Staffan held his breath as Bob’s phone immediately swung to the left, the screen shaking up and down a little before steadying, zooming on the bare bellybutton of a girl.

Staffan raised a brow. There wasn’t much written on Saffi’s FB page but her pictures spoke a thousand words. Also, she was a girl who had spent almost a decade studying
fish.
She definitely wasn’t the kind of girl who’d wear a cropped top that showed off practically her entire tummy.

“That’s not---”

He shut up as the camera of Bob’s phone zoomed out, allowing him a glimpse of the upper half of the girl’s body. It was
her.

And yet, it was not her, too.

Staffan suddenly felt like he had warped into another dimension, one where everything the opposite of reality had come true. Because what he was seeing now was exactly that.

Gone was the very prim and almost nun-like Saffi March he had gotten to know through his daily updates from Facebook, Twitter, and even her fucking Pinterest account.

Her hair had been transformed into a riot of big wild curls. Dramatic make-up had turned her eyes bigger and darker while her body, usually covered in preppy outfits, was now almost naked with her cropped shirt and the shortest skirt Staffan had ever seen in his life. Goddammit! That skirt looked more like underwear in denim!

Staffan’s temper, which was always easily ignited, burned red hot at the thought of other men in the area being able to see Saffi March’s almost naked body. Why the hell was his Saffi dressed like this? Was she here on a date? Was she---

Saffi’s head was suddenly turning left and right, drawing his attention and making Staffan temporarily stop with his mental tirade. Her brows were puckered as she listened in apparent concentration to the screams of the other fans next to her. Frowning, Staffan watched her take a deep breath.

And then she was shouting, “Staffan Aehrenthal! Have sex with me!”

His jaw dropped, and he nearly dropped his phone, too, unable to believe what he had just heard Saffi scream – and was still hearing her scream.

The women that had been screaming next to her gave Saffi high-fives, which she returned happily, a giddy look on her face. And then they were all screaming the same thing, laughing afterwards, and the cycle repeated itself.

An unbidden smile formed on his lips.

His Saffi never failed to surprise him.

He shifted on his feet, aware of how his pants had become suddenly and uncomfortably tight.

And she never failed to make him want to fuck her either.

~~~

Deafening screams rocked the concert venue when all the lights went out and the first recognizable notes of
Poison,
Staffan Aehrethenal’s first worldwide hit, played. When the lights blazed back, an uproar of screams and cries rose from the crowd.

Staffan stood in the middle of the stage, dressed in a tux, his beautiful face unsmiling but the heat in his fuck-me eyes more than made up for it.

And then he started to dance.

Saffi swooooooned. The girls around her swooned. Everyone swooned, including even some of the bouncers lined up next to the stage since apparently they were batting for the same team.

Staffan moved closer and closer to the edge of the stage, his every step infinitely sexy with its precision and grace, his hand gestures wondrously defined and in tune with the music.

Her heart got all choked up at the sight of him performing live, her throat running dry.

There was nothing as beautiful as seeing Staffan Aehrenthal dance. It was sheer poetry in motion, and he never failed to seduce his faithful audience with every little move he made. There were just no words to describe the heart-thumping excitement he evoked from his fans no matter how fast or slow he danced. And when he started to sing, too, oh God, how it made Saffi’s body tremble with desire!

Staffan’s eyes suddenly locked with hers.

She gasped.

She knew she must be imagining it. She must be. He couldn’t be---

The line of bouncers suddenly split into two from the center, just in time to let Staffan jump down from the stage. And then he was walking towards Saffi, his eyes never leaving hers.