When Fangirls Lie 

How Not To Be Seduced By Rockstars #1 

Marian Tee
Prologue 

“That’s him, isn’t it? Staffan!” Carmina Virgil was the first one to spot the 

limousine driving out of the underground parking lot. Thousands of women who 

also lined the street echoed her scream, all of them waiting to catch even just a 

glimpse of Staffan Aehrenthal. 

“I effing love you!” the brunette next to her yelled as the limousine inched near- 

er, its journey impeded by the fans doing their best to get past the human barricade 

that stood in their way. The hotel management had called police officers to the 

scene, their private security unable to handle the hysterical fans that did everything 

short of murder to get closer to their favorite rockstar. 

The brunette started sobbing. “Love you, oh my God, love you!” 

Carmina rolled her eyes even as she continued recording the limousine moving 

in front them at a snail’s space. Typical fangirl bullshit, she thought as she irritably 

pushed her red locks away. Why couldn’t they say it like it was? They didn’t love 

Staffan Aehrenthal. They just loved the idea of loving him. 

It was a good thing she had no such misconceptions. She was a fan of Staffan 

because he sang well, danced well, and – according to the other Gs – he fucked 

unbelievably well, too. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d learn about it firsthand, too. 

A wide-eyed teenage girl with glasses next to Carmina asked in a shaky yell, “Is 

it always like this?” 

“Like this what?” Carmina’s head started to ache. With the throng of crazy ob- 

sessed fans jostling behind them, it was a challenge to keep eye contact with the 

younger girl. 

The younger girl waved a hand. “Is it always this crazy?” Her voice was slightly 

muffled as a more aggressive wave of incoming fans tried to move past her. 

Giving up recording, Carmina slipped her phone back in her jacket’s inner 

pocket and yelled back, “Is this your first time going to his concert?” 

The girl nodded. Or at least Carmina thought she did since the younger girl had 

started to drown amidst the chaos. Taking pity, Carmina grabbed the girl’s hand, 

uncaring of who she elbowed in her way. She pulled the younger girl to her. “It’s 

bitch-eats-bitch every time with the Sex God’s concert, hon. And this? It’s nothing. 
You should have seen his concerts in Europe. I went to his concert in Netherlands 

once.” Her scalp tinged at the memory. It wasn’t a good tingle, not when she 

remembered a German chick pulling her back by the hair just to catch a closer 

glimpse of Staffan’s crotch-grabbing move. 

She said feelingly, “Freaking insanity! Half of the audience went topless in 

hopes that he’d pick one of them to fuck!” 

Somebody accidentally knocked the younger girl’s head from behind, and 

Carmina shrieked furiously, “Watch your hand!” She glanced at her companion, 

who was doing her best not to be swept away by the tidal wave of other aggres- 

sively adoring fans. Almost every woman in the crowd was chanting his name like 

they only needed to see Staffan Aehrenthal trademark smirk to have the most stu- 

pendous orgasm. 

The younger girl shrieked again, and Carmina immediately reached out to res- 

cue her companion from the crowd. She sighed. “This isn’t the place for kids like 

you.” 

“I just wanted to see him in person, and I didn’t have enough money to watch 

his concert.” There was a faraway gaze in the younger girl’s eyes as she looked up. 

Carmina didn’t have to look the same way to know what made her companion lose 

herself in a dreamlike state. 

God. 

Or rather the Sex God. 

The larger-than-life tarpaulin hanging from the concert venue’s front wall show- 

cased an obviously tall man with longish blond hair, an angel’s face and an utterly 

sinful look in his hazel eyes. 

His black blazer was exquisite in its cut, just like the silk shirt underneath it, al- 

most completely unbuttoned to reveal more than an eyeful of his muscular chest. 

The matching trousers he wore were just as stylish, but there was nothing elegant 

at all about the more than noticeable bulge under his pants. 

He had been photographed leaning against the wall, hands inside his pockets, 

but the ordinary posture did nothing to diminish the bold and vibrant energy he 

emanated. Staffan Aehrenthal was a classically beautiful man, as perfect as a mar- 

ble statue, but there was nothing at all elegant about the raw sexuality burning in 
his eyes. 

“Don’t fall in love with him, hon.” 

The teenage girl blushed. 

Carmina suppressed a sigh. “Do you know John Lennon and Yoko Ono?” 

“Umm, are they, like, a boy band?” 

Save me from Beliebers who just discovered what sexy truly meant, Carmina 

thought. There should really be sexier boy bands. There had to be some kind of 

middle ground between The Bieber and Staffan Aehrenthal, some way to prevent 

young girls like the one in front of her from losing their virginity to the first tat- 

tooed guy they met and resembled their favorite rockstar. 

“Umm, no. Let’s just say that John Lennon used to be a really popular rockstar 

and Yoko Ono was this really infatuated fan.” 

The girl gasped. “And they fell in love?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not the moral of the story.” 

“So…what is it?” 

“She became the most hated bitch on the planet.” Carmina turned back to face 

the street, where the limousine had only managed to move past them by several 

feet. “Staffan Aehrenthal isn’t something you can order for yourself. He’s like this 

magnificent exotic hotel buffet, something that’s only for sharing.” 

The teenage girl didn’t answer. She was too busy gazing dreamily at thirty-foot 

tall poster of Staffan Aehrenthal. 

Carmina shook her head. Oh well, at least she had tried. She gazed back at the 

poster. It was really those eyes’ fault. No one could ever be immune to the mes- 

sage glinting in those beautiful fuck-me hazel eyes. 

I can make you scream with just one touch. 

~~~ 

Half-sprawled on the custom-designed seat of his limousine, with a glass of 

whisky in one hand and his iPad on the other, Staffan Aehrenthal cursed out loud 

when he read the dozen or so headlines staring back at him. 

Outside, hundreds of fans lined the road leading into the airport, screaming his 

name and a lot other words. 

Do me. My virginity is yours. I’m your #1 groupie. 

Ten years ago, Staffan would have paid attention to them. At twenty-two, he had 

believed he really was the king of the world, and that he could have anything he 

wanted. Back then, he did have everything – or he thought he had. 

But things had changed now, so much so that he had been living like a bad- 

tempered monk since the start of his first world tour. Sex was his only stress re- 

liever, but for the longest time he wasn’t able to find someone who could stir his 

cock to life even just an inch. All he needed was a fucking inch, and he could make 

any woman happy. 

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Staffan returned his attention to the rest of the 

headlines. 

The Three Pussketeers 

He rolled his eyes when he caught sight of what the press had dubbed him and 

his friends. What the fuck did that even mean? 

The other headlines were just as bad. What was it with American media and 

their inexplicable obsession over the most absurd titles? The U.S. leg of his tour 

had barely started and already they had a dozen nicknames for him. 

Mr. Fucktastic 

Europe’s badass version of Justin Timberlake 

Sweden’s #1 Sex God 

These people were insane. They made it sound like his countrymen were so 

fucking obsessed – literally – that they actually kept a list for man whores. 

He clicked on the next page that Constantijin – a Dutch billionaire who had 

been his friend since their boarding school days and was also one of the so-called 

Pussketeers –had emailed. 

This one you will love, Constantijin had typed on top of a red arrow pointing 

down. 

Staffan almost choked at what he had read. Clearly, his friend had saved the 

best for last. 

Mr. Rockstar Chic. 

A fan-made collage created by someone named Starry Eyed had been pasted 

below the title, featuring rows and rows of his red carpet photos and paparazzi 

snapshots. 
He wanted to puke at the title. They made him sound like a fucking fashionista 

with a dick. 

So he liked his clothes fucking decent. So he preferred his blazers custom- 

designed, his shirts made from the finest cotton and smoothest silk, his trousers 

bearing only labels of European’s leading houses of fashion and his shoes and 

belts cut from hand-sewn leather. 

All those didn’t mean he welcomed being in every fashion police’s Best- 

Dressed list. Other men might have considered that an achievement, but as far as 

Staffan was concerned it just made him sound fucking gay.

They didn’t know that his almost fanatic obsession in having the best clothes 

was a by-product of his childhood, of the times Staffan had been forced to alter- 

nate between two shirts until there were more holes than clothes in them, had no 

fucking uniform to use for school, and had nearly peed in utter shame whenever he 

was forced to go to Mrs. Gustav next door because he was close to starving to 

death. 

Running an irritated hand through his hair, Staffan tossed the iPad on the 

opposite row of burgundy-colored seats in disgust. 

His phone rang. He accepted the request for the FaceTime call and a second 

later, the faces of Constantijin and his friend’s girlfriend popped out on the screen. 

“How was the email?” Constantijin asked with a grin. An extremely good-looking 

man in his own right, Constantijin used to be known as Netherlands’ #1 Playboy. 

He had also been notorious for his unsmiling ways, but that, too, had changed 

when Yanna Everleigh entered his life. 

Staffan answered his friend by flipping him off. 

Constantijin’s bark of laughter was cut short when Yanna slapped his arm. She 

gave Staffan a sweetly apologetic smile. A pretty, dark-haired charmer, Yanna had 

easily won him over with her sometimes-shy and sometimes-bubbly personality. 

“Don’t mind him, Staffan. He just misses you.” 

Constantijin choked. 

Staffan deliberately lowered his voice, adopting a seductive tone as he teased, 

“And what about you, my beautiful darling? Did you miss---?” 

Yanna blushed. 
“Goddammit, Staffan, I’m the only one who can make Yanna blush,” Constan- 

tijin growled. 

“Constantijin!” Yanna wailed as her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. 

“Just tell him what we called him for so I can get you naked---” 

Eyes widening, Yanna slapped her hand over Constantijin’s mouth. Clearing her 

throat, “Umm, anyway, I just wanted to remind you that it’s the 30th today, Staffan. 

And you haven’t yet made a call.” 

Shit. He had forgotten about that. 

“I know you’re tired after your concert and you’d rather relax---” 

Staffan shook his head. “You were right in reminding me.” He checked his 

watch, a slim gold type that had no doubt added to his newfound “fashionista”

image. Earlier, he had even heard one of the popular morning show hosts refer to 

him as the music industry’s very own David Beckham. 

God save him from all these fucking comparisons. David Beckham? He had 

utter respect for the man, but they were too different. The soccer player had the pa- 

tience to stand in front of camera for hours, but Staffan found it literally hell to be 

still for more than five minutes, and especially when it had to be for photo shoots. 

“Staffan?” 

He shook the irritable thoughts of photo shoots away and glanced at his watch 

again. Fuck. 10 minutes before midnight. “I need to put the phone down. I have to 

make the call now.” 

“Understood.” Yanna beamed at him. “We look forward to spending more time 

with you when you come here to Florida!” 

He gave her his sexiest smile. “After the tour, I’ll go straight to you, darl---” The 

last thing Staffan saw was Constantijin kissing Yanna as his friend reached for his 

wife’s iPad to end the call. 

It almost made him smile. These frequent displays of Constantijin’s possessive 

jealousy were extremely amusing, mostly because his friend had never been like 

that until Yanna entered the picture. 

Staffan used to think he had that with--- 

Fuck. 

To distract himself, Staffan reached for his iPad again and signed in for the 
administrator account of his fan club’s website. He went to the members’ page, 

clicked a button to have it sorted according to birthdays, and picked the first name 

he spotted on the list who was celebrating her birthday today. 

One of the perks that his fans club members enjoyed was having the chance to 

receive a birthday call from Staffan himself. He had been doing it for eight months 

now, and so far all the women he had called had acted the same. They would pre- 

tend they didn’t recognize his voice, did everything they could to prolong the call, 

and when they finally realized that he would be putting the phone down, they’d ask 

him to fuck them. 

He had no reason to believe this call was going to be different. 

~~~ 

Sapphire “Saffi” March tumbled out of her bed in her haste to get to the phone. 

It had to be him. It just had to be. She didn’t have any close friends, had never 

gone out on a date, and none of her family would ever have considered calling her 

at this hour of the night. 

After all, an eccentric bookworm like her had no reason to be up this late. No 

one would have reason to expect that she was the most diehard of all fangirls and 

that her locker had a pin-up of Staffan Aehrenthal, hidden behind the evolutionary 

chart of ichthyology she had taped to her locker door. 

Oh, please, it just had to be him. 

Saffi lost her footing as she got hold of her phone, falling flat on her face as she 

pressed the green button to answer the call. “Suffering sardines!” The words es- 

caped her as she bit back a groan of pain, her chin connecting with the floor in a 

small thump. 

On the other end of the line, Staffan sputtered in disbelief when instead of 

‘hello’ he heard two words he had never imagined he would hear in his entire life. 

Suffering sardines? 

Perhaps he had dialed the wrong number? But---did sardines actually suffer? 

When they were canned perhaps? 

Saffi quickly stuck the phone to her ear, hoping he had not put it down yet. 

“H-hello?” 

He had probably imagined it, Staffan thought. He decided to put his half-empty 
glass of whiskey away, placing it back on the glass cabinet hidden cleverly behind 

one of the limousine’s paneled doors. Nothing good would come out from chat- 

ting with a fan while drunk. 

“Is this---” He glanced at his iPad to confirm the name. “Saffi March?” 

Saffi swooned. 

That voice. Oh dear, THAT VOICE. How many times had she dreamt of Staffan 

Aehrenthal saying her name? It was pointless to count. It was that many. 

Wondering where he could be as he talked to her on the phone, she tried to re- 

call the schedule of his tour. Fangirls knew their favorite stars’ schedule the same 

way sports buffs could recite the entire season’s schedule of games. 

Tonight, he would probably on his way to JFK Airport since Staffan Aehrenthal 

was well-known as a man of habit. And when it came to working while on tour, 

there were quite a number of those habits that were, well, notorious. 

Supposedly, Staffan always “hand-selected” which girls got a backstage pass. 

Supposedly, Staffan’s definition of stress relief after a concert involved getting 

naked. 

Supposedly, Staffan needed stress relief more often than a thirsty man needed 

to drink water. 

Mmmm…could she be his stress relief on the phone? 

She blushed at the thought just as Staffan said, “Hello?” 

Fluttering flounder! 

She had actually zoned out on Sweden’s #1 Sex God! 

Staffan choked, shooting up on his seat, so amazed that he actually put the 

phone away from his ear to stare at it in amazement. This time, he hadn’t been 

wrong. This girl was…weird. Funny as hell but she was still weird. Who the fuck 

used goddamn species of fish as exclamations of surprise? 

“Sorry, sir, I mean, Mr. Aehrenthal.” She wanted to kick herself several times 

the moment the words went out of her mouth. Playful piranhas! Hadn’t she been re- 

hearsing for this call the entire month? Hadn’t she firmly told herself every day that 

she would not act like Emily Post’s protégé with him? 

Staffan Aehrenthal likes his women slutty. The former groupies Saffi was friends 

with online had told her that, too! 

At the mention of his last name, the ennui resting so heavily on his shoulders 

fell off like a winter coat he no longer needed. 

This girl had broken rule #1 for fans: she had not acted coy. She had admitted 

knowing who he was. 

It was refreshing to say the least. It was interesting, too, enough for him to sit 

up and take notice, enough to make him forget that most women in the world were 

only good for fucking. 

He said huskily, “Hello, Saffi March.” 

THAT VOICE sent shivers down her spine. Saffi slowly covered the mouthpiece 

of the phone. 

And then she squealed, like a baby, and like the excited fangirl she was. 

Staffan stopped speaking. The sudden loss of any sound at all from the other 

end was familiar to him. He knew that Saffi had covered the mouthpiece, probably 

to…scream? Hug herself? It almost made Staffan smile, but fortunately he held it 

back in time. 

He was Staffan fucking Aehrenthal, infamous for his cruel tongue and foul- 

mouthed ways. He was the type to smirk, sneer, and snarl. But one thing he did not 

goddamn do was smile. 

The moment he heard her lift her hand off the mouthpiece, he drawled out, 

“I’m guessing you know why I called?” 

Busted. 

“Yes,” she admitted sheepishly. 

God, that voice was too fucking cute, mostly because none of the women he 

had dated in recent years had ever sounded naturally sheepish. A thought occurred 

to him. What the hell did this Saffi March look like anyway? 

“Happy birthday, Saffi.” Even as he murmured the words, Staffan was already 

clicking her name on the iPad screen. A new page loaded, which included her pro- 

file picture. 

Fuck was the first thought that came to mind when he saw her. Just one glance 

at her photo, and his sexual drought was over, and now he was struggling to keep 

at bay the lust that flooded his senses. 

Staffan literally wanted to take Saffi March with his cock, see her melting 
around him, feel her warmth surrounding him as he made her his. 

In the photo, she appeared unbelievably young with her face fresh from 

makeup except for the shimmery pink gloss on her lovely bow-shaped lips. If not 

for the fact that she had also listed herself as a post-graduate student in her final 

year, Staffan would have thought she was still a teenager. And God knew that al- 

though he was many things, he was no pedophile. 

Saffi March was the most feminine-looking thing Staffan had ever seen in his 

life. She had on an Alice in Wonderland costume. The cerulean silk ribbon on her 

head was an exquisite contrast with her jet-black hair and almost-as-dark eyes, and 

as his eyes moved down, his gaze lingered on the delightful cleavage that the tight 

top of her dress revealed. A lightning bolt of desire struck his body, his cock 

springing up in attention. 

Staffan reluctantly put the iPad down when Saffi spoke again. Fuck, he was so 

horny he had an embarrassing feeling he just might jack himself off later on while 

staring at Saffi’s photo. 

“Thanks, Mr. Aehrenthal,” she stammered. She wished she had the guts to call 

him Staffan, like she did in her dreams, but in reality it was just too impossible to 

do. 

This time Staffan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.

Lately, the women he had banged liked to call him that. Mr. Aehrenthal. It irri- 

tated him to no end, and when he had asked Yanna – the only woman he consid- 

ered his friend nowadays – about it, Yanna had laughingly told him it was the trend 

now, something that some kind of book with lots of fifties in it had supposedly 

started. 

According to a giggling Yanna, being called “Mr. Whatever” was supposed to 

be incredibly sexy, but as far as Staffan was concerned, it just made him feel like a 

dirty old man fucking a Lolita wannabe. 

“Mr. Aehrenthal?” Saffi prodded uneasily when the silence between them 

lengthened. 

His cock swelled even more at the sound of his last name on her lips. He had 

never been called “Mr. Aehrenthal” so earnestly, without any attempt on seduction, 

and yet somehow it sounded sexy as hell. 

Saffi March’s light, lilting voice was so angelic and sweet it made Staffan imag- 

ine tossing her Alice in Wonderland skirt up and showing her how it felt to be tum- 

bled. By him. 

He moved on his seat, his pants feeling unbelievably tight. That did it. To hell if 

it was going to make him appear like a fucking pervert. He would definitely jack off 

tonight while looking at Saffi’s unbelievably enticing photo. 

“Is there something wrong?” 

Staffan started to assure her that there wasn’t any problem when a warning 

beep sounded, reminding him that his phone’s battery was about to die on him any 

second. 

Frustration seared him. “My phone’s about to die.” He paused, expecting her 

to protest, to do what all the girls he had previously called did just to make him 

stay on the phone longer. But she didn’t. That confused him, which he didn’t like at 

all, making Staffan speak more sharply than usual as he asked, “Do you want to say 

anything else before I hang up?” 

Saffi’s silent response meant more than any words could say, her hurt traveling 

through the phone line that whipped him with guilt. 

Shit. Now he knew why the girl wasn’t saying anything. It was because she 

didn’t believe him, and it was like karma biting him in the ass. It had been his stan- 

dard response to cut his call short with the other girls. Yet now that Staffan didn’t 

want the call to end, it had to, and she didn’t believe him.

Fuck karma. 

“Saffi.” Saying the name out loud made him pause. It seemed as if his world 

had been altered with it, and the change was eternally binding. It was like fucking 

serendipity, literally---the kind that his cock sensed. “I’m---” 

Saffi did not want to hear false apologies from Staffan, the thought of it not sit- 

ting well with her for some strange reason. Humiliation colored her cheeks, mak- 

ing her privately thankful that she was only having an ordinary call with Staffan in- 

stead of one that involved cameras and videos. 

Mentally squaring her shoulders, she decided to take his words by face value 

anyway---because that was what a true fangirl would do: accept that famous per- 

sonalities were humans, too, and they had off days like ordinary humans had. 
She interrupted him quickly, “I, umm, do have something to say.” 

Staffan told himself not to expect too much. Even though Saffi March had so 

far proven different from all his pre-conceived notions of women who were after 

his fame, fortune, and fucking, in the end she would still be like the rest. She would 

still have an agenda, would want him to--- 

“Please be happy, Mr. Aehrenthal.” 

Staffan stiffened. 

Saffi said with nervous determination, “I love how you dance. I love how you 

sing. I love your lyrics, and I just think…it would be such a waste if it’s true that 

you’ve been…” 

Staffan’s heart started to beat fast. Then he told himself that she wouldn’t say 

it. Of course she wouldn’t because at the end of the day, she was his fucking fan, 

she worshipped the fucking ground he walked on, and she would never risk an- 

tagonizing him even if--- 

Saffi closed her eyes. “I just hope you’d realize how much you mean to your 

fans, Mr. Aehrenthal,” she whispered. “I just hope you’d stop…doing the…stuff 

you’ve been doing recently because we really don’t want to lose you. You have so 

much to give.” 

He should have been incensed. She was a fucking nobody, and he was Swe- 

den’s #1 somebody, the #1 on Billboard charts, and in everything else. 

He should have been creeped out. Was she a fucking stalker or what? How the 

fuck did she know that he had been drinking every night and taking the craziest 

risks that his insurance company had terminated its contract with him?

He should slam the phone down, but he didn’t. 

And he wasn’t mad. 

Staffan wasn’t even creeped out, not when the earnestness in her angelic voice 

made him remember the old days, back when he used to be in her shoes once, and 

he, too, had been one of the first to know what was happening with the singers he 

had idolized. In fact, it was because he had been such a great fan of another rock 

legend that he had found his mentor – and eventually his calling. 

His iPhone made one last final beep. 

Staffan said quietly, “Thanks.” 

But it was too late.
Chapter One 

Saffi March, Facebook Status: Single 

Three Months Later 

“Ooooh. Are you checking her Facebook again?” Yanna suddenly appeared at 

his back, leaning past him to sneak a look at his laptop. 

Staffan managed to snatch his Macbook away from her, slamming it shut to 

prevent her from taking a closer look. 

“Spoilsport!” Yanna exclaimed indignantly just as a tall, golden-haired man in 

the balcony walked back into the hotel room. He was gorgeous and impeccably 

dressed, his coldly beautiful face softened by the smile that touched his lips when 

he saw Yanna. 

Staffan scowled at the other man. “Control your girlfriend, will you?” 

Constantijin Kastein settled into one of the armchairs. “Were you?” His ques- 

tion was directed at his friend, but all he had eyes for was the woman he loved, 

sending her a lazy smile while his gaze promised her something wicked. 

Yanna blushed, but already she was walking towards Constantijin, her body 

drawn to him like a magnet. 

“Was I what?” Staffan had to say the question twice before Constantijin finally 

heard him, leaving him exasperated and amused with the lovesick way the pair 

acted when they were together. 

Constantijin drawled, “Were you checking on her Facebook again?” 

Faint color stained Staffan’s high-boned cheeks. “Fuck you.” 

His friend only grinned in response, taking Staffan’s baleful look as an affir- 

mative. But Constantijin was quickly distracted, with Yanna finally reaching his 

side. When she made an attempt to sit on the armrest, he shook his head and 

pulled her onto his lap instead. 

“Constantijin!” Even though they had been dating for almost a year now, she 

still wasn’t used to her Dutch billionaire’s extremely public displays of affection. 

Staffan smirked. “Don’t mind me.” 

Yanna glared in response. When she tried to get up, Constantijin pulled her 

back and murmured, “Stay, schat.” She sank back onto him after that, never able to 
resist his tender commands. 

Something in Staffan twisted at the tenderness in his friend’s voice. He didn’t 

like hearing it, didn’t like to remember that once he had been like that with a

woman, too. But unlike Yanna, that woman had ended throwing him under the bus 

and running Staffan over as many times as she could get away with it. 

He said abruptly, “I want to go over the list of raffle draw winners for the tickets 

one last time.” When the operational head of his fan club filed for sick leave, Yanna 

had volunteered to step in, thus becoming in charge of all promotions meant to in- 

crease funding for the club. 

Yanna gasped, scrambling off Constantijin’s lap as she exclaimed, “I forgot the 

list! I think it’s in the car. Constantijin had it with him but I don’t remember him 

taking it out.” 

Knowing that Staffan’s words were only an alibi to get Yanna out of the room, 

Constantijin shot him a dark look before offering, “Let me get it, Yanna.” 

But Yanna had already fished out the car key from his pocket. “No, it’s okay. Let 

me get it while you stay here and catch up with Staffan.” She sent him a teasing 

smile. “I know you miss your friends.” 

Constantijin scowled. “I do not.” 

“Yes,” Yanna sang over her shoulder as she skipped to the doorway, “you to- 

tally do!” 

This constant teasing had at first bothered Staffan. In the years he had been 

going out with Chloe, they had only ever teased each other about sex. His history 

with Chloe had made him think that the other couple was unlikely to stay together 

for long. 

Constantijin was an overtly sexual man, his appetite for women known by the 

entire world, while Yanna had obviously led a sheltered life. But after spending 

more time with the two, Staffan had realized that somehow the love-hate chemistry 

between the pair worked, and it did so in a way that he and Chloe had never experi- 

enced, no matter how intensely passionate things had always been between them. 

The moment the door closed behind Yanna, Constantijin said, “Next time use 

another alibi. I don’t want Yanna tired for no reason---” 

“She’s only going to tell your head of security to get stuff from your car,” he 
said exasperatedly. “How hard can that be?” 

Constantijin shook his head. “Wait until that girl on Facebook has her hooks in 

you and you’ll know---” 

“Just tell me if it’s done,” he growled, hating how the two made it appear as if 

he was stalking Saffi March. And he wasn’t. He just…liked checking out what she 

was doing online because she was too amusing for words. And unique. 

She was unlike any girl he had known. Through his near-constant digging on- 

line, Staffan had learned that Saffi was taking up some kind of deep-as-hell post- 

graduate degree that had to do something with fish. 

A smile almost cracked on his lips as he remembered how she would post 

gushing thoughts about her paper on subjects like Ocean Law and Advanced Ichthy- 

ology. And between those posts, he remembered her comments on every fucking 

photo of him that made it to the social networking site. 

God he’s so…YUMMY.lol, she had commented on a photo taken of Staffan wear- 

ing nothing but a skimpy pair of black swimming shorts while he had been vaca- 

tioning 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 fin- 

ger. 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 arro- 

gant 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 through- 

out 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 qui- 

etly, “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 fin- 
gers 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 re- 

stricted 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 instruc- 

tions 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 belly- 

button of a girl. 

Staffan raised a brow. There wasn’t much written on Saffi’s FB page but her pic- 

tures 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 mak- 

ing 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 un- 

smiling 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, includ- 

ing 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 infin- 

itely 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 run- 

ning 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 lit- 

tle move he made. There were just no words to describe the heart-thumping excite- 

ment 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. 

Saffi’s gasp came out strangled, and it became harder and harder to breathe as 

Staffan came closer, a six-foot-five silver-haired man whose face was literally the 

first and last thing she saw before she slept and when she woke up. He was the 

subject of her laptop, tablet, and phone’s screensaver, the pin-up in her high 

school locker, and she even had limited edition collectible photo in her wallet. 

Before she knew it, Staffan was already standing right in front of her, too gor- 

geous to be true but too close not to be real. 

God, he was tall. God, he was sexy. And oh! Galloping groupers! Those hazel 

eyes. Surely she had to be mistaken. Surely those eyes didn’t say--- 

Staffan Aehrenthal held his hand out. 

She took it without even a moment’s hesitation. 

As he pulled her close, the screams all around them became louder. But even 

so, she heard Staffan very well as he whispered to his ear, “I’m going to fuck you 

now.” 

And the next thing she knew, he was taking her up the stage. 

Staffan Aehrenthal taking a girl from the crowd and dancing with her on stage 

was nothing unusual. He did it in every single one of his concerts. She had been 

aware of that, and she had envied all the girls who had the privilege of dancing with 

him. But what she didn’t know was that dancing with Staffan meant something en- 

tirely unexpected. 

Staffan held her close, singing, not saying a word to her even if it was his back- 

up vocals’ turn to sing. But with every chance he got, his hands would graze her 

breasts, pinching her nipples to life. Every time he would twirl her around, his 

hands would be brushing against her most private part, the one that had started to 

throb just because he was near. 

Saffi was on fire, in heat, and out of her mind with desire. She was utterly mes- 

merized, and all she could do was follow Staffan’s lead as he continued to arouse 

her in front of thousands of people. 

A part of her was completely shocked. He was seducing her…not just in public 

but on stage. At a concert that thousands of mobile phones were presently record- 

ing, a concert that could be televised--- 

She should be running away from him now, but she couldn’t. All Saffi could do 

was look and feel Staffan Aehrenthal touch her. All she could think was him. 

Staffan. Staffan. Staffan. 

The look on Saffi March’s face almost made Staffan lose his concentration. 

Dammit. She looked so fucking sweet, so ripe for fucking, that only his sense of 

professionalism, honed in the years he had worked in the music business, kept 

him from losing control and taking her then and there. 

He had always done this. Always. But only Saffi threatened his control. 
Saffi gasped when Staffan suddenly turned her around to face him, her back to 

the crowd. He pulled her close, their bodies touching, and she gasped as she felt 

his erection press against her. 

She whimpered. Oh, but how could she not when his fingers were dipping into 

her skirt and panties until he was touching her very wetness? 

Staffan’s body shook at how warm and tight Saffi was, the images of Saffi’s 

body welcoming his cock similarly lending an added roughness to his voice that 

made the crowd go even wilder. 

Without missing a beat, he sang and danced a sexy slow dance with her, his 

hips pushing against hers, which caused his fingers to thrust inside her more 

deeply. 

She whimpered again, and the sound almost forced him to the edge. 

The electrifying beats of his music echoed the way her heart pounded, and 

combined with his thrusting and conquering fingers, Saffi knew she was just sec- 

onds away from coming. 

The backstage dancers suddenly converged around them, the last notes of his 

song playing, and Staffan shoved his fingers in and out of her faster and harder. 

When the lights turned out, Saffi felt Staffan abruptly go down, tossing her skirt up 

and biting her lace-covered clit as his fingers pushed all the way in.

She screamed, the sound of it lost in the crowd’s riotous noise. 

As her eyes closed, all Saffi could think was, so this was what being hand-selected 

meant.
Chapter Two 

@starry_eyed4SA, Twitter: 

OMFG. I have a BACKSTAGE PASS. I am so going to handcuff him to me the first 

chance I get! 

“Wait for me.” Ninety minutes had already passed since she came down from 

the stage with quaking knees yet Staffan’s words, uttered in a low, dark, and velvety 

whisper, remained with her. 

The backstage area was crowded with dancers waiting in the wings together 

with reporters, Gs, and Staffan’s security team. It was easy to slip past them with- 

out anyone noticing, and she did so as quickly as she could, heading to the closest 

restroom outside the backstage area. 

She slipped inside the restroom and sighed in relief upon finding it empty, its 

silence soothing and welcoming. After locking the door of her cubicle, Saffi pulled 

the lid down and collapsed on the toilet bowl. 

She needed a couple of minutes to herself, a quiet and private time to…freak 

out. 

Her first orgasm. Her first public orgasm. Her first orgasm with Staffan 

Aehrenthal. Bamboozling bass! Just the memory of it had Saffi sucking in her breath, 

body tingling, and reducing her exceptionally advanced mind into a single-celled 

organ capable of only just one thought: she was going to DIEEEEEE. 

Had Staffan Aehrenthal really taken her on stage with him? Had he really done 

that to her? And had he really told Saffi to wait for him? 

She sighed, the sound rebounding inside the air-conditioned restroom. Every- 

thing still seemed so surreal. Maybe someone more sophisticated would have 

taken things like this in stride, but Saffi had never been sophisticated. In spite of 

the wealth and status that came with being a Beaufort and a March, Saffi had al- 

ways felt the odd and ugly duckling in the circles her family moved in. Nothing as 

spectacular as this had ever happened to her, and she was strongly tempted to slap 

her cheeks several times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

She closed her eyes, and the memories of Staffan walking towards her, taking 

her up to the stage, and dancing with her easily came to mind. The beauty of his 
face, the silky hardness of his skin under her fingers, the heat of his touch--- 

Another breathless sigh escaped Saffi. 

It was good not being Saffi March. The real Saffi would never have been able to 

do any of the things she did. She would never have looked like this in the first 

place. But this weekend, she was reborn with two simple goals: 

Watch Staffan Aehrenthal perform live. Check. 

Figure a way to get close to Staffan. Super check. 

But after what happened on stage, Saffi dared give herself another goal. 

Give Staffan her virginity. 

Saffi didn’t care if she was being silly or not. She knew where her life was head- 

ing, and it didn’t have any room for something like love. She accepted that, wasn’t 

bitter at all about it but before making the ultimate sacrifice, Saffi was determined 

to have this weekend for herself. 

So her next strategy: figure out a way to keep her virginity a secret from Staffan 

until he’s taken it away. He was extremely notorious for not wanting inexperienced 

women in his bed, and Saffi had a feeling that she was the least experienced female 

in the entire concert arena right now. 

It was a problem she was still mulling over when she stepped out of the cubicle 

– and found herself staring back at four beautifully dressed women, all of them 

clearly older than Saffi. Just as obvious was the fact that they were diehard fangirls 

of Staffan as well since they had wristbands that only Tier II members of Staffan’s 

official fan club had. 

The silence between them lengthened into something tense and uneasy. It was 

weird how she totally hadn’t heard any of the women come in. Finally, Saffi said 

with a friendly smile, “Hi.” 

No one returned her smile, and Saffi took an instinctive step back when one of 

the women moved towards her. The other woman wore a black cotton dress, with 

lacy long sleeves and a knee-length hem. It should have made her look seductive, 

but her cold eyes made the other woman look more like a jail warden in heels in- 

stead. 

Warden Chick glared. “You have something we want.” 

Saffi stiffened, having no problems understanding what the other fangirls want- 
ed. Her fingers tightened around her backstage pass, clutching it to her chest like it 

was her lifeline. No way was she going to give this up without a fight. If she did, it 

could mean that they would be “hand selected” like she had been. She didn’t give a 

fig about the women who were hand selected in the past, but the thought of Staffan 

doing the same thing with other women – now – definitely bothered her.

Warden Chick looked at her companions over her shoulder and their cued 

laughter bounced all over the restroom. 

Catapulting catfish! This was not…good. “I, umm, have nothing you could pos- 

sibly want. You guys are so obviously prettier and more, umm, loaded than I am, 

so what could I have that you don’t?” She tried sneaking past them, but one of 

Warden Chick’s companions shoved her back, hard enough for Saffi’s back to hit 

the wall behind her with a painful thud. 

Saffi winced. “Guys, really? Are we seriously going to do this?” 

Warden Chick answered her with a rude gesture. 

Saffi had never ever been in a catfight in her entire life, but tonight was appar- 

ently going to be her first. Her fists clenched. Well, they’d see for themselves soon 

enough that Saffi was a lot stronger than she looked. 

“Don’t make this hard for yourself, groupie,” Warden Chick sneered. 

Saffi lifted her chin. “I’m not going to give over what I know is mine.” 

The other woman shrugged. “Suits us.” 

Saffi held her breath, preparing for a fight for death. But before the women 

could take another menacing step closer, the door flew open and another batch of 

women came inside, all dressed in different definitions of skimpy. 

Her eyes widened. It was them! The women who had talked her into screaming 

all kinds of sexual invitations before the concert! 

One of the new arrivals glanced at her in surprised recognition. “Hey. It’s you, 

the one who---” The older woman – whose name was Carmina if Saffi recalled cor- 

rectly - stopped speaking, her own eyes narrowing when she saw Warden Chick. 

Carmina said coldly, “Up to the same tricks again, Mitch?” 

Saffi’s jaw dropped. “You…two…know each other?” 

“This isn’t your business,” Warden Chick- or rather Mitch – snapped. “So stay 

out of it.” 
Carmina stalked forward, forcing Mitch to step back. “Of course this is our 

business. Because this girl is one of us.” 

Looking at the two of them, Saffi felt like she was watching something straight 

out of National Geographic, with Carmina an enraged lioness going against a 

hyena named Mitch. 

Mitch sniffed. “Why am I not surprised? You look all the same.” And she 

coughed under her breath, “Sluts.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s what Staffan Aehrenthal likes, haven’t you heard? Unlike you 

fan girls.” Carmina coughed ‘bad in bed’ under her breath. 

This was probably a good time to make it clear that Saffi had started out as a 

fangirl but had decided to convert to the groupies’ religion for her nineteenth birth- 

day because Staffan Aehrenthal liked his women slutty. She opened her mouth to 

speak, but the two other women beat her to it. 

“Take that back, whore,” Mitch shrieked. 

“Not on your life, you fugly hag!” 

All of a sudden, Saffi found herself in the middle of a hair-tearing, nail-clawing 

catfight, literally untouched but surrounded by screaming and hissing women. She 

gasped when one of Mitch’s followers made a swipe at her backstage pass, taking 

Saffi by surprise. She quickly tried to grab it back, managing to catch a corner of 

the card. The other woman pulled it back at the same time. 

The tearing sound put a halt to the entire fight, everyone gazing at the torn 

backstage pass in Saffi’s hands. 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Mitch’s giggle sounded as awful as a squealing mouse 

caught in a rat trap. She pulled out something from her bag. “Good thing me and 

my girls have this!” She waved a backstage pass at Saffi, making her gasp. 

“Why?” Her tone was heavy with confusion. Saffi couldn’t understand at all why 

Mitch had taken such lengths to get her pass when all of them apparently had one 

already. 

Mitch’s laugh was incredulous. “You really had to ask?” She threw Saffi and the 

others a look of disgust. “Because groupies like you don’t deserve to be near 

Staffan.” 

It was, Saffi had to admit, a great exit line, and all she could do was blink back 
tears as Mitch and her companions headed towards the door. All she could see 

was Staffan Aehrenthal hand-selecting Mitch and company. The thought made her 

sick. She had to think of a way to get inside the backstage area. Surely the bouncer 

at the exit remembered her face? Surely Staffan himself would remember her? 

Right? 

Seeing the tears brightening the younger girl’s eyes, Carmina stuck her foot just 

as Mitch walked past her, catching the other woman in surprise and causing her to 

fall flat on her face. Her friend shut the door on Mitch’s face, which was slowly 

turning purple with outrage.

Carmina touched Saffi’s shoulder hesitantly. “Hey.” This one was definitely new 

to a G’s world. No G she knew in her entire life was this…soft. Carmina’s lips trem- 

bled with suppressed laughter as the younger woman tried to sniff back her tears 

with a loud odd sound, something like a cross between a pig’s snort and a car’s 

honking horn. 

Saffi forced herself to smile. “Thanks for helping me.” 

When the other girl released another one of her freaky snorts, Carmina’s hand 

trembled in her effort not to let her laughter out. “It’s…ah…okay.” She cleared her 

throat, willing the laughter to go away, staring hard at Saffi’s face because she 

didn’t want to look at the other Gs. They were all laughing silently, those horrible 

bitches. Couldn’t they see that this girl was completely distraught? 

Yet another snort came out from Saffi’s delicate, rosebud-shaped mouth, and 

Carmina bit her lip hard. 

After clearing her throat several times, Carmina told Saffi, “Don’t worry about 

the backstage pass, hon. We groupies have our own way of getting in.” 

Ten minutes later, and Saffi wasn’t sure if she had heard Carmina and the 

bouncer – who wasn’t the same guy that let her out earlier –were saying. 

“Cock knob?” she echoed faintly. 

What the heck was that? 

~~~ 

“Err, boss, I think you need to come out.” Bob stood at the doorway of 

Staffan’s dressing room, glancing over his shoulder worriedly as he spoke. 

Staffan bit back an impatient retort, not wanting anyone to know how he was 
burning to have Saffi March back in his arms again. He had so many plans for her, 

and the way he had imagined countless ways to make Saffi his had added a throat- 

ier tone to his voice and an earthier feel to his moves on stage. The result: pande- 

monium, with women literally fainting and having to be carried away in stretchers. 

“I’m busy.” It had been fifteen minutes since his concert had ended. What the 

fuck would he do if Saffi never came back? Had what happened onstage too much 

for her? Also, there was the mystery about her ridiculously sexy as hell outfit for 

tonight’s concert. Not one in her 357 photos in Facebook had Staffan seen Saffi 

dressed anything less than preppy and prim, so why had Saffi suddenly shown up 

practically half naked tonight? 

“Boss, you really need---” 

“I told you---” 

“It’s that girl you made me look for, boss. I’m afraid she’s about to do a cock 

knob---” 

Staffan didn’t hear the rest of what Bob had to say, running past him at those 

words. And he had never ever run so fast in his entire life. Absolutely no way in hell 

would Saffi March do that kind of thing for anyone but him! 

He spied them seconds later, his eyes widening in horror when he saw Saffi - a 

mixture of embarrassment and determination on her tiny heart-shaped face –as she 

reached out to stroke the bouncer’s cock like a knob---a groupie’s way of gaining 

backstage entry. 

“ALBERT!” 

Saffi jerked her hand away at the roar the same time the bouncer in front her 

quickly turned his back to her, stiffening at the knowledge that Staffan was calling 

his name. 

She looked at Staffan, who was talking to Bob between clenched teeth. Did he 

know she was here? She wanted to call his name but felt too shy to. 

“Call his name,” Carmina urged. 

“I can’t.” She didn’t want Staffan to think she had become an airhead all of a 

sudden just because he--- 

“Yoo-hoo!” Carmina yelled loudly, waving her arm. “Staffan, the girl you hand 

selected is here and she lost her backstage pass!” 

Staffan’s head slowly lifted. 

Their eyes met, and just that one glance had Saffi running out of oxygen. Oh 

God, even Staffan appearing mad at her just made him look even more gorgeous. 

Staffan took his time crossing the hallway, ignoring the outraged gasps coming 

from the other women who had backstage passes. The wide-eyed look on Saffi’s 

face made Staffan want to shake her. Didn’t she realize how close she had been to 

staining her hands with another man’s cock? 

She was his. She had no fucking right to touch any man’s cock for as long as 

he wanted her. 

Staffan’s gaze strayed to her hands, which she was wringing. It made him think 

about those lovely white hands wrapped around his cock. He froze for a moment 

then abruptly turned his back to Saffi, not wanting her to see how aroused he was. 

It wasn’t the right time yet – not when he still had to make her squirm and force 

her to tell the truth. What the fuck was she playing at, making him worry that she 

had left him without any intentions of coming back? 

He told Bob what he wanted to happen and stalked back to his dressing room, 

knowing he needed more than a few moments to get his raging erection back in 

control. 

Bob hurried to Saffi. “You are so dead,” he whispered to her. 

Saffi didn’t let Bob drag her away, not when Carmina and the others were also 

there. She looked over her shoulder. 

Carmina blew her a kiss. “Good luck.” Under her breath, she muttered to her- 

self, “You sure will need it.” Carmina had seen the look in the Sex God’s face. Al- 

though she wanted a chance to fuck Staffan as well, she knew that it was impos- 

sible. That man only had eyes for the girl Staffan’s bodyguard was currently asking 

to queue up with the other women who had backstage passes. 

“Why is there a line?” Carmina heard Saffi ask in confusion. 

She mentally shook her head. That was it. Saffi was not a groupie, and she 

doubted the other girl had ever been one. Any self-respecting G would have known 

right away what that line was for. 

Gs knew what rockstars really were – assholes who were too fucking good on 

bed --- but Saffi clearly didn’t. 

Carmina sighed in exasperation even as she gave Albert a come-hither smile, 

liking the impressive bulge behind his pants. 

Fangirls.
Chapter Three 

Pinterest, a photo of Staffan Aehrenthal on stage 

Starry_eyed4SA: Say hello to my husband (he doesn’t know we’re married). 

Staffan sat in front of them, bare-chested, one arm stretched along the back of 

the leather couch, which spanned the entire length of one wall. As his lazy gaze 

touched them one by one, Saffi tried to look as cool and at ease as the nine other 

girls with her inside his dressing room even though she had absolutely no idea 

what was about to happen. 

Surely…surely Staffan wouldn’t be, umm, hand-selecting all of them at the 

same time? 

Staffan managed to stop himself from smirking at the way her gaze flitted about 

the room, lingering on the other women but never on him. She was the only person 

here who was not comfortable, the only one who wasn’t able to look at him in the 

eye. 

Good. Maybe in a bit she would cry wolf, and he’d finally understand what she 

was up to. 

“You.” 

Mitch, standing next to her, elbowed her none too gently at the side. “He’s talk- 

ing to you, idiot.” 

Staffan’s fingers dug into the couch in an effort to keep him from snatching 

Saffi away to his side and ordering his security team outside to take the other 

woman away. That jab must have hurt, dammit. 

Saffi turned to him, reluctance visible in her every move. 

Again, he was struck at how beautiful she was, how innocent she looked even 

with her face made up like an exotic belly dancer. “Y-yes?” 

He drawled, “How was it earlier?” 

She blinked at him, confusion and embarrassment swirling in her eyes. 

He raised a brow, unwilling to make it easy for her. 

Staffan likes his women slutty, she reminded herself. Saffi blurted out, “Hot and 

wet.” 

The silence that followed was excruciating. 

Oh my God, oh my Lord, did she just freaking say that? 

Staffan coughed, to cover his surprise that someone so nerdy she wanted to 

study fish for life had said something like that. To keep his arousal at bay, he 

switched his attention to the rest, asking them one question each. When he fin- 

ished with all ten, he pointed to the three women he wanted to stay – including 

Saffi of course – and nodded goodbye to all the rest. 

Ooooh. Saffi tried very hard not to show how shocked she was as the other 

women left – and Mitch was one of them. Saffi pretended not to notice the other 

woman’s hate-filled gaze just before the door slammed shut behind Mitch. 

So that was like an elimination round, Saffi mused, and she had just survived it. 

She didn’t know if she found the thought amusing or intimidating. Women actually 

competed just to be his…what? One night stand? 

“First time to get selected?” The older woman gliding to her side whispered. 

Everyone here were older than Saffi, and she wondered uneasily if Staffan would 

notice it and – worse –hold it against her. Saffi knew a lot of rockstars liked the 

Lolita type of girls, but Staffan had always been different. Even when he was just 

starting out, Staffan had been known to date women older than him, women who 

were so glamorous that they shouldn’t have had given a twenty-something budding 

rockstar the time of the day. 

Realizing the other woman was waiting for her to answer, she lied breezily, “My 

first time with Staffan. But I, umm, get selected all the time when I tour with, 

umm---” Saffi madly searched her mind for a famous name that Staffan surely 

wouldn’t be associated with. 

Her gaze fell to the clock on the dressing table, which showed the time and 

temperature. 

“---Celsius,” she said almost giddily. The boy band from Korea was just starting 

to be really famous, with their latest single reaching the Top 10 in the US and UK. 

In the act of asking another question, Staffan stiffened in incredulous shock 

when he heard what Saffi and the other woman was talking about. Did she just say 

she was a fucking groupie for a boy band? 

Saffi felt a little proud of herself when the other woman looked at her with re- 

spect. Maybe it was because Celsius was known to be really choosy. She had heard 
something like that about the group from other fangirls. 

“You must be really good. I heard they only do girls able to take them at the 

same time.” 

Saffi tried not to choke. 

Staffan wanted to wring her neck. This night just kept getting crazier and 

crazier. Didn’t she know how news traveled lightning fast among Gs? And didn’t 

she know that he had a rule--- 

The other woman turned to Staffan. “You have to kick her out. She’s not exclu- 

sive.” 

Saffi gasped, realizing why the other woman kept asking her all those ques- 

tions. It had been a setup! She stammered, “I am exclusive! What I, umm, did with 

Celsius was so long ago. It’s over between us. They, umm, begged me to go with 

them in their UK tour but I said I wanted to be with Staffan Aehrenthal this time.” 

Silence followed her outburst, and if she had to describe it with one word it 

would be…delusional. Like they thought Saffi was delusional. 

“Hallucinating halibut,” she whispered under her breath unconsciously, horri- 

fied at how she had let her mouth run off. 

Four heads swung towards her. 

Realizing what they had heard her say, Saffi turned deep red and bit her lip very 

hard so she wouldn’t say anything else accidentally. 

For the first time in his life, Staffan was torn between enjoying the most painful 

erection in his life – and laughing out loud because of the sheer craziness of the 

things that came out of Saffi March’s lovely mouth. 

Coughing, Staffan said, “Let’s get on, shall we?” He got to his feet, aware of 

how all their eyes devoured him. All he cared about was how Saffi was doing her 

best not to stare. It was an epic fail, though, since her eyes were wide, her face was 

incredibly expressive, and her lips were parted in shock. 

Saffi couldn’t keep her gaze off Staffan as he walked towards them. Oh, oh, 

dear---every step he took was so sexy. He definitely deserved to be Sweden’s #1 Sex 

God. Wait – no – he deserved more. He should be the #1 Sex God in the whole 

wide--- 

“Choose one part of me to kiss.” 

She gasped, stunned at his words, and even more stunned at the speed to 

which the other women responded. The woman next to her – Saffi would forever 

remember her as The Traitor, may she be roasted by the fires of fangirl hell for all 

eternity –immediately fell to her knees. 

Saffi gnashed her teeth when The Traitor placed a lingering kiss on Staffan’s 

cock, which was large and straining. 

Not to be outdone, the petite woman in a tank top and denim shorts standing 

farthest from Saffi shoved The Traitor away with her hips, tiptoeing to take Staffan’s 

lips for a kiss. Not a few seconds had passed when the third woman – in a red 

sleeveless dress and mules – grabbed the second woman by the hair, pulling her 

away so she can lick Staffan’s ear and bite it. 

Staffan allowed a moment to pass by before firmly pushing away the woman 

trying to eat his ear. 

Slowly, he let his gaze meet hers. 

They realized one thing at the same time. 

She was turned on. 

The realization blew Staffan’s mind. He rasped out, “How about you---” He let 

his voice trail off, waiting for her to say her name so he could let her know that he 

remembered her. 

About to reveal her true name, Saffi stopped herself in time and said the first 

thing that came to her mind. “I’m…Horny?” 

Staffan choked in surprise even as the other women tittered. 

Saffi lifted her chin even though she was already mentally killing herself for the 

seventh time. “That’s right. I like to go by that name because I’m, umm, horny all 

the time. I’m, umm, very RAWR and all between the sheets and now it’s my turn to, 

umm, kiss you---” She stopped abruptly, her brain finally catching up with her 

mouth. 

What the heck had she been saying? 

Deciding that actions were better than words, Saffi abruptly moved close to 

Staffan, taking him by surprise. His scent filled her. Even sweaty as he was after the 

concert, Staffan Aehrenthal had the most delicious smell, and the intense look in 

his eyes as he waited for Saffi to move just made her feel like she was floating. 
Without thinking, she placed her hands on his broad hard shoulders, using it 

to pressure him down until he lowered his head enough for their eyes to be at level 

with each other. Saffi tiptoed to kiss his forehead, whispering, “I want to drive you 

crazy. I want you to know that I’m wet and without my panties---” 

Staffan nearly shuddered at her words. Saffi March may be physically innocent, 

but her mind definitely wasn’t. And dammit, he found every silky, silly, beautiful 

inch of her fucking fascinating. 

“Out.” It was all he said to the other women before he pulled Saffi towards him, 

his fingers sinking into the lush softness of her bottom as he closed the distance 

between them. 

“That was cheating,” The Traitor muttered as she stalked away. “He didn’t say 

we could speak while kissing him.” 

The woman in red just laughed. “Be graceful in defeat, darling, and next time- 

--do try not to think like a man with a small brain and an even smaller dick.” 

The door slammed shut behind them. 

“You horny little minx,” he growled down at Saffi. 

All she could do was smile weakly at him, unable to believe that she was again 

in the circle of Staffan’s arms, and this time they were alone. 

“What are you going to do now?” Staffan asked just to torment her. “I heard 

you were with…Celsius?” 

The cool tone of Staffan’s voice unnerved her and she mumbled, “Yes, sir,” be- 

fore she could think about it. She winced right after. 

The sir made Staffan strive for control, having a hard time fighting off a lot of 

things – his smile, his erection, and his desperate urge to fuck Saffi March. She 

was a lovely handful in his arms, soft in all the right places, and he fucking loved 

how she kept wriggling, driving him wild with her every fidgety move. It amused 

him that after all her boldness and bravado, Saffi now appeared unable to figure 

out where to put her hands. 

Ah, Saffi March. 

You want to look like everyone’s groupie for some reason but you’ll always be a 

fangirl. 

My fucking fangirl. 
And it was going to stay that way. 

He stepped back, surprising her when his arms also fell to his sides, releasing 

her. 

Saffi looked at him fearfully. Had she turned him off with her less than experi- 

enced moves? 

“I’m waiting, H.” 

The term made her smile for some reason. “I like that,” she admitted. 

He liked it, too, but Staffan decided not to say anything. He was obsessed with 

her, too much to make it safe for her to know it. 

At his silence, Saffi nervously reached for her top and slowly pulled it over her 

head. It took barely a second since it was more like a second layer of 

undergarments. It was that small. 

The way Staffan gazed at her, the way he devoured her with his eyes, left Saffi 

befuddled with desire. She stood there, frozen, one hand clutching her top, not 

knowing where to put it. Should she just drop it to the floor? Should she fold it and 

lay it on the table? 

“Drop it---” 

Saffi relaxed, eager for Staffan to take command. 

“With your bra.” 

Oh. 

“Umm…now?” 

He raised a brow again. “When else?” 

Right. 

Dropping her top, she reached out from behind to unhook her bra. The hook 

gave way too easily, not providing her any time to get more of her bearing back. 

The bra finally fell, and Staffan swallowed back a groan at the sight of Saffi’s 

bare breasts. Fuck. They were the loveliest sight he had ever seen, pale, full, with 

rosy nipples that begged to be sucked. In the three months he had been fucking 

stalking her in Facebook, there were nights he had imagined seeing Saffi March 

naked, her eyes nearly dilated with desire as she touched herself before him. Those 

were the times he had been forced to pleasure himself. He had to. No other 

woman had aroused him ever since he had talked to Saffi on the phone. 
He really was fucking obsessed with Saffi March, and now he was finally going 

to make her his. 

Staffan crooked a finger. 

Trembling with excitement and shyness, she took one small step towards him. 

The door burst open, followed by the entire group of Staffan’s backup dancers 

flooding in. 

She shrieked just as the boisterous group finally noticed her, jaws dropping, 

their celebratory shouts cut off. Somewhere from behind, a champagne cork 

popped open, followed by a nervously muttered ‘shit’. 

Staffan instinctively snatched Saffi close, his arms going around her as he 

pulled her tightly against him. Her bare breasts pressed hard against his chest, and 

he bit back a groan just as one of his dancers gasped. 

“Sapphire?” 

The girl in his arms whimpered. 

Staffan glared at the dancer – a younger lean dark haired man who was too 

bloody handsome for his own good. He decided then and there the other man – 

Alan Carson –would not be allowed anywhere within a ten-foot radius from Saffi. 

Who apparently was also known as Sapphire. So that was where “Saffi” came 

from. The thought that Carson knew more than he did about Saffi irked. “Everyone 

get the fuck out of here,” he growled. 

“We’re sorry,” Eddie – his head choreographer –muttered. “One of the Gs went 

to our dressing room and told us you were…errr…done.” 

The Traitor had struck again, Saffi thought, followed by the realization that every- 

one in this room now knew what she and Staffan had been about to do. Worse, one 

of those dancers apparently knew her – the real her. Saffi squeezed her eyes shut in 

embarrassment. 

Staffan glanced down at Saffi when the door closed on the last of his backup. 

Her eyes were still closed, her face flushed red. “Sapphire?” he asked, wondering if 

she’d finally admit it now. 

Her eyes flew open. “Umm…just another one of my nicknames.” 

So she was still going to lie about it, Staffan thought with a frown. What was her 

angle? Why was she pretending? Any other girl would have been more than proud 
to tell him about their connection – no matter how flimsy it was. 

She wriggled in his arms, a little intimidated by his frown. 

Staffan was immediately distracted, his dick demanding release. 

He took hold of her chin, making Saffi look up at him. “Shall we continue?” he 

asked, deliberately using his voice to seduce her. 

She gulped. “N-now?” Saffi could still hear noise outside. It was loud – very 

much so, and she knew it meant that most – maybe all – of his backup were still 

there, waiting. 

Staffan raised a brow. 

She was beginning to understand that it was his way of responding to ques- 

tions he considered stupid. 

“Do you want me to choose another?” 

NO! 

When Staffan’s eyes widened, Saffi realized she had said the word out loud – 

and more vehemently than she planned. To cover her embarrassment, she 

impulsively tiptoed and kissed him. 

That was the last thing she remembered consciously doing before Staffan com- 

pletely took over. His tongue demanded entrance, and her lips parted obediently 

under his mouth. She gasped when his tongue slipped in. She couldn’t help mak- 

ing the sound since this was her first kiss, too. 

Saffi’s arms locked around his neck, moving on its own accord, causing her to 

press her breasts more closely against his chest. 

Staffan groaned against Saffi’s lips, the pinprick points of her nipples arousing 

him to even greater heights until he was literally aching with need to bury himself 

inside her hot moist depths. 

“Are you wet for me?” he whispered against her lips. 

“Yes,” she gasped. 

He let his lips trail down slowly, taking his time, loving the fact that he was fi- 

nally able to hold in his arms the girl he had been mentally fucking for three 

months. As he nuzzled her neck, Staffan asked, “How much do you want me?” 

“More than anything else in this world,” she moaned out, her head falling back 

as he sucked at her neck. She moaned again as Staffan nipped her neck. 
“Then prove it.” He moved down, nuzzling the valley between her breasts, cup- 

ping the flesh without touching her nipples. 

“H-how?” 

“Make me hear how much you want me.” 

Her eyes flew open, but before she could even ask what Staffan meant, he had 

squeezed one breast hard, taking it close to his mouth so he could take her entire 

nipple in. And then he started to suck. 

She moaned with abandon. 

“Just like that,” he growled, sucking on her nipple harder. 

“B-but…” Everyone was still outside. They would be able to hear her. Didn’t he 

know that? Didn’t he--- 

Saffi moaned again, the pleasure driving her crazy as Staffan moved to suck her 

other nipple while squeezing the breast he had just abandoned and pinching its tip. 

“Louder, H.” 

She shook her head. 

“Don’t make me choose another.” It was a lie, but Staffan knew she would be 

too innocent to realize how far gone he was. No man as aroused as he was would 

be able to pull away at this point. 

She shook her head again, more wildly this time, even as her eyes begged him 

not to leave her. 

He released her nipple but squeezing both breasts this time, as hard as he 

could without hurting her. And then he drew on both her nipples, pulling them as 

far as she could. “Scream, H.” 

Saffi obeyed, mindless with passion, her only thought to follow his every com- 

mand because she knew what he wanted would be oh so good for them both. 

Staffan gripped her hair, eliciting a squeak of surprise from her, just before he 

took her lips for a bruising hard kiss. “Say my name.” 

“Staffan,” she whispered. 

Incredibly, he shuddered against her, and the knowledge that he was also 

aroused only fed her desire. “Staffan.” She said it again, this time as a moan. 

He dropped to his knees, flipping her skirt up and cursing when he realized 

that she did mean it. She had no panties on. 

She blushed, seeing him stare at her naked body. “They were too wet and I was 

uncomfortable wearing them.” Saffi tried not to stumble all over her explanation 

but failed. 

He had fucking gone to heaven. 

Min himmel, he thought possessively. And she would always be his. 

“This time, baby, I want you to scream as loudly as you can or I’ll be very disap- 

pointed.” 

She opened her mouth to protest. 

He started to lick her, long, slow, and hard, leaving no inch of her wet folds un- 

touched. 

Saffi ended up screaming instead. 

Her hands found his hair and she started to pull and push, not knowing what 

she wanted. All she knew was that he was making her feel too good that it was driv- 

ing her insane, making her breathless and wanton. Saffi screamed again, louder 

than ever, as he moved up, just enough for his mouth to close on her clit, this time 

without any lacy barriers between his lips and her flesh. 

Her head lolled back. “Staffan,” she begged. 

“Yes, baby.” 

Even as he licked her, he was already fumbling for his pants, groaning against 

her folds when he finally managed to release himself. 

The wet slapping sounds penetrated her mind – barely – just enough for her to 

look down at Staffan with eyes dazed with desire. 

He was pleasuring himself. 

It was enough to send her over the edge. 

“Fuck!” Staffan was stunned when Saffi suddenly came in his mouth. He drank 

her in, his eyes lifting up to her. She was already staring at him, her eyes wide. Real- 

izing that she had actually come because she had seen Staffan jerk himself was too 

much. With a few furiously fast strokes of his dick, he was coming as well, his 

groans mingling with her soft whimpers. 

Saffi swayed in her feet, the explosive pleasure she had experienced, coupled 

with the excitement of what happened in the few hours past, proving to be too 

much. 
“Hey.” Staffan quickly rose to his feet and steadied her. 

She could only respond with a weak, still-dazed smile. Had what happened --- 

really happened? 

Oh, she was so convinced now. Staffan Aehrenthal definitely had to be the one 

to take her virginity. No man would ever compare to him after this. She would die a 

virgin if he wasn’t the one to take it. 

Staffan gently took her to the couch, wiping her clean with a wet towel. When 

he left her, she could only stare at him, mesmerized at how even more beautiful he 

was when he was naked, all golden muscles, sleek lines, and that massive tattoo on 

his spine, a majestic-looking dragon in fiery shades rising from the waters. 

She sighed. 

He glanced at Saffi at the sound, and the soft look on her face made his cock 

harden once more. He liked the idea that he was the one to put that look on her 

face. And this weekend, if he had his way, that was how Saffi was going to look. 

Every. Fucking. Second. 

After dressing himself, he took out a trench coat from the racks. “Let’s get you 

into this---” He managed to stop himself from calling her Saffi. 

Saffi shyly rose to her feet, feeling absolutely cherished as Staffan carefully 

helped her into his coat before pulling both sides tightly close and knotting its belt 

just as tightly. 

“Ready?” The smile he sent her way was dazzling.

“Umm…just…” She gave up trying to make sense and simply hurried around 

the room, picking her bra and stuffing it in one pocket while her cropped top went 

to the other pocket. She gnawed at her lip, feeling like she had forgotten some- 

thing. 

“Are you looking for this?” Staffan held her wristlet bag up with two fingers. 

“Oh. Yes. Thanks.” She stuffed it into her pocket with a blush even as she men- 

tally berated herself for being such an airhead and acting like a freaking novice! She 

was supposed to be an experienced slut, for heaven’s sake! 

Staffan took her hand as he led her out of the dressing room. Outside, her 

embarrassment came back tenfold when she saw everyone smirking at her. Oh my 

God. They knew. And then she saw Alan Carson and became even more embar- 
rassed. Both of them shared the same hometown, had attended the same high 

school, and he knew everything about her since his family was in politics, too. 

Staffan saw the look of shock and worry in Saffi’s eyes when she saw Carson. 

He stiffened. Did she care about what the little twerp thought? Jealousy bit at him 

and he asked sharply, “Is something the matter?” 

She jumped at the curt and almost angry sound of his voice. This man might 

not literally be a rockstar – Staffan didn’t sing rock but most of his American fans, 

after seeing his tattoo, liked to think of him as one - but he definitely had the tem- 

perament of one. He blew hot and cold so quickly he left her whirling. 

Maybe he was beginning to question her disguise. Maybe he had sensed her 

embarrassment and was starting to doubt her identity as a groupie. Maybe he was 

getting bored with her because he realized he had done most of the work – twice – 

while she just stood there and waited for him to pleasure her. 

Nervous as heck now, Saffi dug into her pocket to get some gum from her 

wristlet. In the movies, she saw Gs snapping gum all the time so maybe she 

should do it, too. 

When she pulled out her gum, the bra came with it and fell to the floor. 

Everyone fell silent again. 

She desperately wanted to kill herself but for the love of Staffan Aehrenthal, she 

was just going to…ride this one out. 

When it was clear she wasn’t going to pick it up, Staffan mentally rolled his 

eyes even as he crouched down to pick it up. But instead of giving it to Saffi, which 

she clearly expected him to do, he put it in his own pocket.

Her eyes widened, and it was clear on her face she was doing her best not to 

show more embarrassment. 

Why was she so determined to pretend being someone else? 

Staffan had her bra. Oh my dear Sex God---no wait the Sex God had her bra. If 

Saffi didn’t do something quickly, she was going to faint. Remembering the gum in 

her hand, she quickly popped it into her mouth. She tried blowing a bubble with it, 

like how Gs did in movies, but it burst back into her mouth instead like a pink 

sticky web. 

Everyone burst into laughter. 

Amusement won over exasperation this time, tempting Staffan to smile as he 

watched Saffi hurriedly spit the gum out and discarded it in a piece of tissue she 

crumpled into a ball before throwing away. No matter what she did, Saffi just 

wasn’t cut out to be a hardcore G. Still watching her, he was surprised to see her 

smile at someone. His eyes followed her line of sight and he stiffened when he saw 

Alan Carson smiling at his Saffi ruefully. 

Staffan reacted instinctively. He pulled Saffi back to him, hand curling around 

her nape. His lips went down on her as her body slammed close against him. 

Saffi’s gasp ended as a whimper as Staffan surprised her with an open 

mouthed kiss, one so blazingly carnal it made her eyes close, heart hitch, and her 

toes curl. 

Mine, his kiss said. 

And yet that was not enough. 

When he lifted his head, he stared down at Saffi, his face hard. “When you’re 

with me, I want you to look at me and just me. I want you to think of me and just 

me. You’re mine, every inch of you is fucking mine. Understand?” 

His voice rang loud and clear, the tone of possessiveness in it unmistakable, 

and her stupid silly fangirl heart couldn’t help but be thrilled. Saffi wanted to say 

‘yes’ but was afraid it would come out all gushing and adoring, and she’d sound 

like the fangirl she really was. 

Unable to trust herself with words at the moment, she nervously popped an- 

other piece of gum into her mouth to blow another bubble. This time it worked, 

and she gave him a thumbs-up in answer. 

The crowd laughed once more, but even so she kept her gaze on Staffan. Yours, 

she tried telling him with her eyes.

He stared at her for a moment---before throwing his back head in laughter. 

She relaxed, toes curling again at the look of tender possessiveness that had lit 

his hazel eyes ever so briefly. 

Staffan pulled her close as he walked them out of the hall, one arm around her 

waist, fingers splayed on her hip as if wanting to mark her his with every second. 

He glanced down at Saffi, who was so small her head didn’t even reach his shoul- 

der. 
Ah, Saffi March. 

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you.

Chapter Four 

I’m determined to find out why this is called Sin City. 

Saffi March checked in at McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, Nevada 

154 likes. 

Aehrenthal Fanatics commented, You go, slut! =P - 

“Excuse me, I need to talk to Alan Carson? Do you know where he is?” Even to 

her ears, the question sounded surreal. A plane wasn’t supposed to be like a freak- 

ing mall a person would get lost in it but that was exactly what had happened. 

Staffan’s private jet was beyond the stretch of her imagination. All the walls 

were covered in cream leather and wood panels. The jet also had its own game 

room and library and of course a recording studio. Not even the greatest rockstars 

could afford this, but of course Staffan wasn’t just a rockstar. His stepfather also 

happened to head one of the world’s most famous resort and theme park corpo- 

rations, and it was no secret that the billionaire CEO thought of Staffan as his own 

son. 

Her parents were embarrassingly rich as well, but Pearl’s conservative upbring- 

ing ensured that all of them kept a low profile. Only Steel traveled on his own 

private jet but only for emergency occasions. And since he was tempered by their 

mother’s Americanized ideas of noblesse oblige, Steel’s jet was also a lot smaller 

than this. 

The four people in the cabin she had sort of trespassed her way into were gawk- 

ing. Finally, the only lady in the group – a pink-haired woman whose bubble- 

blowing skills Saffi envied – popped her gum and said, “I think he’s with the tech 

crew at the very back. Just go straight. You’ll see all the electronic stuff and that’s 

the right place.” 

“Thanks!” She gave them a quick awkward smile, trying not to mind how they 

were still gawking before speeding further down the plane. 

Behind her, Saffi was unaware that the four people had already scrambled out 

of the cabin, intent on spreading the word that the boss’ newest G had “left the 

building” in search of her boy toy Alan Carson. 

Saffi chewed her lip. By now, Staffan would probably be wondering why it was 
taking her so long to get back to him. Saffi had only excused herself to go to the re- 

stroom, but in truth she just felt it wasn’t right for her to hang out with him. Al- 

though they weren’t alone, the others – like Eddie, his choreographer, and the rest 

of his vocal backups – had something important to contribute to the tour. She 

didn’t. 

When she finally reached the area where the tech crew was checking the equip- 

ment, there was no sign of Alan. All ten of them came to a standstill at the sight of 

her. “Excuse me. Is Alan Carson around?” 

They silently pointed to the door at the back, still gaping. Her head bobbing in 

thanks, she sped past them, again not seeing how everyone was in a mad scramble 

to spread the word among the rest of the crew that the Sex God seemed to have 

lost his touch. 

Saffi quietly opened the door and flipped the light switch when darkness greet- 

ed her. 

“Murderous mackerel.” 

Alan was engaged in a passionate embrace. 

With another man. 

~~~ 

“Boss? I think we have another problem.” Bob was at the doorway again, glanc- 

ing over his shoulder like escape from a madman was impossible. 

The worst kind of déjà vu hit Staffan. Cursing under his breath, he said, “It’s H 

again, isn’t it?” 

Bob slowly nodded. 

“What’s it this time?” 

“It’s not been confirmed,” Bob hedged. “But I’ve been hearing things---” 

“Just spill it.” 

“I’ve been hearing stuff from the crew, boss. They say she’s, err, with the 

dancer Carson and they’re, err, engaged in private business.” 

Staffan saw red. 

“Where. Are. They.” 

“Boss, how about I check it out first---” 

“Goddammit, Bob. If you don’t fucking tell me where they are right now, I’m 
going to beat it out of you instead.” 

Bob flinched. Although he knew it wasn’t a real threat, the voice reminded him 

too much of how Staffan had been in the past, right after his most god-awful 

breakup with The Cougar. Before his employer’s almost miraculous overnight 

change three months ago, Staffan had been a mess, drinking himself to death and 

involved with every brawl he encountered – which there was a lot of since Staffan 

had spent practically every night in bars – and behind bars. 

Bob opened his mouth to say it. But no words came out. He wouldn’t have 

cared what happened to other Gs, but this one was different. He knew it – everyone 

knew it. Only the boss didn’t seem to know it – or didn’t want to know it. “Boss---” 

Staffan lost patience. His voice was chilling and low as he spoke. “Bob. You 

owe your fucking loyalty to me. Your concern for the girl is touching – but mis- 

placed. Since I didn’t fucking kill Chloe when she betrayed me, I won’t fucking lose 

my head over whatever this is.” 

Bob gave in. “They say she’s at the back, inside a locked room with Carson---” 

A white-faced Staffan walked past him. 

Dammit to hell, Saffi March. What the fuck happened to make you so crazy 

tonight? 

~~~ 

Alan and the other man broke apart almost violently, panic written all over their 

faces. “What the hell are you doing here, Sapphire?” 

She stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know---I was looking, and then I saw…” She 

stopped speaking, realizing she wasn’t making any sense at all. 

The other man Alan was with didn’t look like a dancer, with dorky glasses and a 

rather scrawny build. He looked more like a cute grad school student, someone 

who absolutely had no business traveling with a European rockstar on tour. 

Seeing her staring, he offered her his hand. “Hi. I’m Donovan,” he said with a 

slightly strained smile. 

They shook hands. “I’m...” 

“Sapphire March,” Alan muttered. “The girl with the worst kind of luck---” 

“Alan!” Donovan snapped when he saw the look of hurt flash over Sapphire’s 

face. 
Alan had the grace to look shamefaced. Running an agitated hand through his 

hair, he muttered, “Sorry, Sapphire.” 

“It is true anyway.” 

Alan looked even guiltier. “Dammit, Sapphire, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it.” 

He gestured to Donovan. “I’m just…what we have, who we are, it’s a secret.” 

She nodded, having already deduced the same thing for herself the moment 

she saw the two kissing in the dark. “I promise I won’t tell.” She paused. “But 

please---don’t tell Staffan the truth about me either?” 

Alan’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean he doesn’t know who you are?” 

She had to smile. “Don’t sound so surprised, Alan. Being a Senator’s daughter 

doesn’t make me famous.” 

“But you’re also Steel and Silver March’s kid sister.” 

“Their very boring sister, who used to be the black sheep of the entire March 

clan.” 

Alan flushed. At that moment, he remembered with uncomfortably vivid clarity 

how life had been like for Saffi back when they were kids. No one had wanted to 

talk to her because they hadn’t wanted to look stupid next to Saffi, who had com- 

pleted high school when she was 12 and college at 16. 

Back then, the most popular girl in their circle, Vania Coolidge, had loved 

humiliating Saffi. And all of them had stood by because it had been easier to do 

that. Saffi had made it harder for them to help her, with her eccentricities. 

His lips twitched when he remembered the first words she said. “Murderous 

mackerel, Sapphire?” 

She smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I still think of fish when I’m overly emotional or 

whatever.” 

Alan tried not to look too guilty at her words. He had indirectly been one of the 

reasons why Saffi had been so “emotional” in those days. Even at a young age, 

Saffi had been already lovely, too, inside and out. Everything about her was the 

opposite of what rich kids were supposed to be. She had never held a grudge 

against any of them, not even after what happened during their graduation ball, 

with Saffi as the guest of honor---Alan shuddered. It still qualified as the most hor- 

rible night of his life. 

A loud pounding on the door made them jump in surprise. 

“What the---” Donovan exclaimed. 

“Are you fucking in there, H?” 

Saffi squeaked in shock. 

Knowing he only had seconds to spare, Alan hissed, “Remember your prom- 

ise!” 

“I promise. And you promise, too.” 

Alan nodded. “I keep my word, Sapphire.” 

Her eyes widened at the name he used. “Alan! Don’t call me---” She ended up 

shrieking instead when the door smashed open. Rather, Staffan had kicked it open. 

He came in, looking beautiful and furious in a three-piece suit. How was it pos- 

sible for a human being to be so swooningly exquisite? He really was Mr. Rockstar 

Chic. 

Staffan’s eyes found hers, the emotions swirling in it making her swallow. 

Well, make that Mr. Angry Rockstar Chic. 

“I can explain,” she said in a small voice. 

“Really?” he drawled out. It was all Staffan could manage since every part of 

him was itching to smash Carson’s face. And what the fuck was Donovan Bradley 

doing here? What the fuck had he walked into – a goddamn ménage a trois? 

“We were just talking. Alan---” 

He seethed at hearing Saffi mention another man’s name. 

“---and I are friends from way back.” 

“Is that so?” he asked silkily. “What kind of friends?” 

Her eyes widened. “No, no, not like that! Oh my God, no!” 

Staffan raised a brow. “And I should believe you because?” 

Alan said nervously, “We did not do anything---” 

“Get the fuck out, you two.” He didn’t spare the boys a glance. Fucking boys. 

He should have an all-girl dance backup instead next time. 

Alan and Donovan couldn’t get out fast enough. Sorry, Alan mouthed to her. 

It’s okay, she mouthed back. 

When she looked back at Staffan, his eyes had become even chillier. 

The green-eyed monster inside him had never been fiercer, and all Staffan want- 
ed was to pull Saffi to him and mark her body in every way he could. He wanted to 

fuck her until she lost consciousness, wanted to see the dreamy smile back on her 

face – the smile that should only be for him. 

“We didn’t really do anything,” she said urgently. 

“Why the fuck should I believe you when you didn’t tell me where you’re going, 

you locked yourself inside this fucking room with two men---” 

“Because I can prove it,” she blurted out. 

He stilled. 

This should be interesting. 

He lifted a brow. 

She gulped. When they said that starting anything with a lie could only continue 

with more lies --- it was true, and it was happening now. 

“I’m a very, very, in demand groupie.” 

Staffan did his best not to roll his eyes. 

“I do all sorts of stuff. Like, umm, mouth jobs – I mean blow jobs.” She lifted 

her chin just so he wouldn’t know how she was completely winging everything. 

“And hand jobs, foot jobs, even umm, anal jobs.” 

Two parts of Staffan’s body twitched: his lips…and his cock. 

“But one thing I didn’t do with, umm, any of the Celsius guys---” 

Staffan’s eyes narrowed. 

She inhaled. “I’ve never done it with them. Like done…it…that.” Her soft dark 

eyes sought his, her voice seductive without meaning to as she said, “I’m still a vir- 

gin because I wanted you to be my first.” 

The words melted his rage in an instant, turning it into liquid heat, his body on 

fire. 

In one long stride, Staffan had her in his arms, and she was gasping against his 

lips as he took hers for a kiss that claimed not just her body, not just her heart but 

her very soul. 

With Staffan so near, Saffi was immediately on fire…and in love. Her eyes 

closed. The truth Saffi had tried to blind herself to was now out in the open, and it 

was the scariest thing that ever happened in her life. 

She had already been halfway to being in love with Staffan Aehrenthal with a 
phone call, and now that she had spent almost an entire night with him, had been 

pleasured by him twice--- 

She didn’t care what other people would say. 

Her brain was smarter than the rest, and so was her heart. 

And both told her she had found her soul mate, the one man she could only fall 

in love with. 

She wrapped her arms around him more tightly, welcoming the darkness and 

passion in his kiss, her body instinctively molding to his, pressing her sex against 

his as hard as she could. They groaned as his cock swelled, trying to push into her 

even though their clothes were a barrier between their bodies. 

His hand sank into her hair, pulling her head back so his lips could move down 

her body. He sucked at her neck, hard, this time laying a blood red claim on her 

beautiful skin. That should teach any fucking asshole who wanted to try taking 

what was his. 

“Later,” he whispered against her skin. 

She tried to think. “Later…what?” 

“Prove to me that you did all those stuff and you’re not just an innocent fangirl 

who’s bitten more than she could chew.” 

She froze. 

Hiding a smile, he slowly pulled away. “You aren’t, are you?” 

Saffi tried not to look as guilty as she felt. “NO.” 

“Good.” 

That one word caused her confidence to take a nosedive. She let Staffan turn 

her around, pulling her against his side as he led her out of the room and past a re- 

lieved Bob and the entire crew. Who were all smirking. Again. 

She wanted to die. 

Desperate dogfish. 

How the heck was she going to prove she was sexually experienced when 

Staffan was her first in everything? 

Staffan pulled her closer. He was tempted to kiss her hair but managed to keep 

himself from doing so. That would make people have other ideas about them, and 

those weren’t ideas he was comfortable welcoming – maybe never. 

He could feel her thinking, worrying, and the way he was so attuned to her 

thoughts even though they had just met was even more alarming. 

“Ovulating orangespine unicorn fish.” 

Staffan swallowed a bark of laughter at what she was muttering to herself. 

Ah, Saffi March. 

I can’t wait to take your fucking virginity and make you mine.
Chapter Five 

Saffi March changed her status to In an Open Relationship. 

Staffan was throwing her dagger looks, which Saffi did her best to feign igno- 

rance to. He stood poised at the doorway of the airplane, waiting for her – no, he 

was silently demanding and commanding her with his gaze to go to him. 

But she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. For one thing, she couldn’t risk having 

any photographer identify her and blow her disguise. Secondly – and this weighed 

most heavily on her if Saffi was honest – she just didn’t feel good standing next to 

him. 

Even after everything, he still felt way out of her league. She was a lowly G, or a 

fangirl if you will, while he was the star of the tour, the man millions all over the 

world paid fortunes for the opportunity to see him perform on stage. She had no 

right to stand next to him. 

The door slowly opened with a swooshing sound, forcing Staffan to look away 

– but not without giving Saffi one last glance. If looks could kill, Staffan would have 

her six – no, make that sixty – feet under by now. 

Staffan slowly descended from the plane, his professional mask slipping back 

on his face. But he really didn’t have to pretend. He was in a black mood, which 

perfectly fit his “cold, aloof, arrogant” image. Or at least that was how most blog- 

gers liked to describe him. 

A red carpet had been rolled out for him, and he curtly nodded his thanks after 

the welcoming speech of the airport officials. Behind him, the crew was also get- 

ting off the airplane, and he heard something that made him stiffen, with Bob al- 

most bumping into his back. 

Saffi was laughing. 

His head snapped up as he turned towards the sound. 

Saffi was joking around with Carson and Bradley. 

Staffan gritted his teeth. 

If this was how she fucking wanted to play the game, then she fucking wouldn’t 

win it. 

~~~ 
An hour later and Saffi was miserable. Staffan wasn’t just giving her the cold 

shoulder. He was also allowing local Gs to flirt with him and monopolize his atten- 

tion. The entire crew had flooded the hotel’s exclusive club, with Staffan declaring 

an open bar. Of course, Gs who were not above touching cock knobs had been al- 

lowed inside the “private” party as well. 

“He’s usually not like that,” Alan whispered to her. All of them – and she did 

mean the entire crew – couldn’t take their eyes off Staffan and his harem of girls. 

Some of them were the most seductive women Saffi had ever seen in her life, their 

every move designed to incite lust. 

How the heck could she compete with that when all she knew about sex was 

from free Amazon erotica novels? She didn’t dare buy the paid ones since that 

would show up on her credit card bills, which her parents still took care of. 

Donovan shook his head. “Strictly speaking, he used to be like that before and 

after his relationship with the Cougar.” 

Saffi knew who the Cougar was even though it was her first time to hear some- 

one refer to Chloe Gustav in such a way. After all, she was one of America’s Sweet- 

hearts, the woman who took over Julia Roberts’ throne when the latter went into 

semi-retirement. 

Alan grimaced. “I really don’t get what the boss saw in her.” 

“They grew up together so he probably sees something that others don’t.” It 

hurt her to say the words, but she felt like she had to defend Staffan. 

Alan nudged her shoulder with his. “Aren’t you going to do something?” 

She shrugged helplessly. “He’s mad---” 

“Bullshit, Sa---I mean, H. You did all this crazy stuff for a reason and now 

you’re just going to let it go like that?” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. 

Donovan nodded firmly. “Get your man back, H.” 

“But I can’t go through those women,” she protested. “They’re like…I don’t 

know…rattlesnakes and queen cobras and I’m like a---a domesticated worm!” 

Alan took firm hold of her shoulders. “First of all, no sane human being keeps 

worms as pets. Secondly, you are not a worm. You are a…tigress.” Alan ignored 

Donovan when his lover looked at him like he was crazy. “Got that, H? You’re a 

fierce tigress!” 
“A tigress!” Saffi actually let out a roar, carried away by the image in her mind, 

and made a clawing gesture at Alan. 

Donovan choked on his laughter. 

Alan nodded, straight-faced, even as he dodged Saffi’s clawing fingers. “That’s 

right. A tigress---like the tiger in Pooh but the female version! You can be strong 

when and where it counts. You can do this. You’re the smartest girl in the world. If 

you can’t go to him, make him go to you.” 

Slowly, an idea occurred to her. “I’ll need your help. The two of you.” 

Donovan grinned. “We are at your service.” 

~~~ 

What the fuck were they talking about? Staffan knew he shouldn’t be brooding 

about what a certain girl and his two goddamn traitorous backup dancers were talk- 

ing about. He should be having the time of this life, with all his concerts selling out 

even before his tour officially began. He was surrounded by beautiful women, all 

willing to do anything he wanted. He had wealth, fame, and everything else that a 

man could want. 

So why the fuck did he want to smash the two men’s faces simply by daring to 

stand close to Saffi? 

And Saffi! 

Damn stubborn girl. What the hell did she want from him? 

His phone rang. The name that flashed on the screen made Staffan’s face hard- 

en. He rejected the call without hesitation. He had no time for Chloe’s 

explanations. As far as he was concerned, what she did said it all. 

When he looked up, Staffan cursed long and fluently at the sight that greeted 

him. 

Saffi was dancing on the ledge, and his entire crew was cheering for her, chant- 

ing just one word that made Staffan stand up so quickly he ended overturning his 

table, causing bottles to crash on the floor and the women around him shriek in 

surprise. 

STRIP. 

In seconds, he had shoved his way to the ledge. “What the fuck do you think 

you’re doing?” he growled. Had she fucking forgotten she hadn’t even her fucking 
underwear under his trench coat? 

Staffan was jealous. 

Over her. 

His tone said it all. Surely he couldn’t be faking it? 

Delirious at the realization, she could only smile down at him. 

The dreamy smile on Saffi’s innocently beautiful face practically knocked 

Staffan off his feet.

“I was waiting for you to get me.” She bent even lower, her breasts tantalizingly 

close to his face as she touched his ear with her lips. “I was waiting for you to take 

what I promised.” 

He couldn’t move fast enough at her words. Staffan pulled her down the ledge 

in one swift, graceful move while taking care to ensure that no one ever had the 

chance to see what was – or wasn’t – underneath his trench coat. His heart was 

beating fast as he made his way to the elevator, with Saffi in his arms. 

One thing he had to say about her: she was great for cardio. With her around, 

there was always a reason for him to move quickly, his heart beating a mile a 

minute. 

When the elevator doors closed on them, Saffi barely had time to breathe be- 

fore Staffan had her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips slamming on hers. 

They groaned in unison when her sex rubbed against his cock as she locked her 

arms around his neck. She pushed herself closer to him, so desperately eager to 

have every inch of their bodies touching the same time her tongue entered his 

mouth and her nipples stretched and pricked his chest. 

“Staffan.” Just being able to say his name out loud as Staffan kissed and held 

her in his arms was an exquisite pleasure, and it drove her crazier. 

He shuddered, even more aroused by the way her voice lovingly wrapped itself 

all around his name. She was a natural born temptress, needing no sexual expe- 

rience to beguile men. All men. 

But no one else would fucking have her because Saffi March was his. 

The elevator doors finally slid open. Saffi stiffened, and his hold tightened in re- 

sponse. Keeping her in his arms, legs still wrapped around his waist, Staffan 

walked briskly down the hallway. 

Encountering the surprised gazes of housemaids and bellhops made Saffi flush 

red, and she quickly tucked her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes, and 

inhaling his scent. 

Oh God, he smelled so wonderful. He had taken a shower during their flight, 

and the fresh scent of his shampoo just made her more eager to find out what it 

would be like to have Staffan make love to her. 

Not Staffan Aehrenthal the billionaire rockstar. 

Not Sweden’s #1 Sex God. 

Not Mr. Rockstar Chic.

But just Staffan – the man she had secretly felt so incredibly close to even 

though they had never met. 

Serendipity, she thought giddily then giggled when another thought occurred to 

her. “Serendipity” wasn’t enough. If it was Staffan he would call it something else. 

Fucking serendipity. 

Staffan sensed Saffi smiling against his skin as he took them out of the ele- 

vator, and the thought of it made his heart kick up a weird fuss. But it also inten- 

sified his arousal and he quickened his pace, practically running towards the suite. 

Forget about being looking fucking cool! All he wanted was to fuck Saffi March and 

he was going to fucking kill anyone who fucking stood in his way. 

Bob opened the door to his suite for him. 

Staffan paused just before going in. “H.” It was an effort to speak when all he 

could think of was finally making Saffi his. 

“Mm?” she mumbled against his skin, the heat of her cheeks telling him how 

mortified she still felt. 

“Do I need to buy condoms?” 

“No,” Saffi answered without hesitation. She had bought her pills three months 

ago, the moment after he called, but he didn’t have to know that. 

“Are you sure?” 

“The pills are inside my bag. You can check them.” 

He pressed a kiss to her hair, unable to help it. “Sorry for being an ass. I just 

wanted to be sure.” 

She kissed his neck. “I understand.” 

The tenderness of her action and her words didn’t escape Staffan – or Bob. He 

looked at his bodyguard, whose face was expressionless. “No one disturbs us,” he 

said in a hard voice. 

Politely keeping his gaze off the girl in his employer’s arms, her face a picture 

of embarrassment, Bob answered, “Yes, boss.” 

The door slammed shut in his face, followed immediately by a long, loud 

whimper. 

Bob allowed himself a small grin. For almost a year now, Staffan had been an 

unfeeling bastard, uncaring of what happened in his life. Following the breakup, 

Staffan had been careful to maintain the same image, allowing him to be pho- 

tographed with different women. But what no one knew outside his crew was that 

none of those women had made it to his bed. 

Who would have thought that someone like this “H” – whose cute and clueless 

ways made Bob and everyone else suspect her as anything but a groupie – would 

be the one to get the famous rockstar to start living – and having sex – again? 

The Sex God was back. 

Bob silently prayed it would stay that way. A happy sexually satisfied Staffan 

Aehrenthal was a much easier employer to serve than someone who was celibate, 

perpetually drunk, and violently bad-tempered. 

~~~ 

The moment they entered the room, Staffan pushed her back against the door, 

kissing her even more hungrily, one hand supporting her while his other hand hur- 

riedly untied the knot keeping his trench coat close around her. Groaning, she 

helped him get rid of the coat. It fell to the floor, the same time Staffan gently low- 

ered her to the ground without breaking their kiss. 

“I’m dying to fuck you.” His voice was a rough, low murmur, his breath fanning 

her ear as he spoke, and it was like having him sing to her and only her. 

Her insides melted at the thought, and she trembled for more than one reason. 

Staffan pulled away to rip her cropped top away, leaving her completely naked. 

Saffi whimpered, unbearably turned on at the realization that she had nothing 

on while Staffan was still fully clothed. It was deliciously decadent, something that 

no one who knew Saffi March would ever imagine happening to her. 
His eyes devoured her, and he growled in protest when she started to cover her 

breasts and cross her legs together in order to shield herself. 

“Don’t tell me an experienced woman like you is shy about being naked.” 

Knitting kingfish! 

She had almost forgotten what she was supposed to be tonight and the rest of 

the weekend. Saffi forced herself to let her hands fall away from her body. Straight- 

ening, she slowly walked past him, her hips swaying---a timeless and instinctive 

wile that she unconsciously used. 

His dick grew larger and harder, and his eyes followed Saffi’s every move. She 

could never be a groupie. Saffi was just too beautiful inside, too innocent, and too 

refined to be one step above a paid whore. But she was a natural-born temptress, 

and every second that went by convinced Staffan that he had finally found the girl 

who might just erase the vile bitterness of the past.

She turned around, and his throat became dry as her long, curly hair swayed 

becomingly against her back as she turned to face him, her beautiful breasts pert 

and upright, nipples outstretched, and the pink tender flesh between her thighs 

begging to be kissed. 

Saffi tried not to frown nervously when she realized that Staffan hadn’t followed 

her further into his suite. She shifted on her feet, not knowing what to do or how to 

act. It was hard to keep still when she was naked inside a room with Staffan 

Aehrenthal. 

The thought of it made her want to pinch herself. 

Staffan still hadn’t moved. 

“Ahem.” She tried to sound confident and demanding. 

He did his best not to smile. He also tried to ignore the way his dick ached like 

hell. 

“Why are you there?” 

“I’m waiting for you to tell me what I’m supposed to do next,” he answered lazi- 

ly, delighting in the way her big dark eyes became even bigger. “I want you to call 

the shots.” 

Saffi stammered, “Uhh, no. You call the shots.” She tried not to sound so pan- 

icky and desperate. If he left her to call the shots, nothing was going to happen and 
she wanted, oh dear Lord she wanted something to happen between them. She was 

dying for it. 

Staffan slowly shook his head. “I want to see how good you are, H.” He raised 

a brow. “Or are you telling me all those stuff you said are just lies?” 

“Of course not!” She was really getting used to lying. In fact, she had com- 

pletely lost count of the number of lies she had uttered in less than 24 hours that 

she had spent with Staffan. 

He said simply, “Then show me.” 

Right. Show him. What had she gotten herself into? Saffi cleared her throat. 

“Well…” She tried to recall all the steamy scenes from her favorite books. “Do you 

want me to undress you or…” 

“Your call.” 

Saffi inhaled sharply, feeling like Staffan had this God-given ability to torment 

her. 

He waited patiently, knowing that she was going to surprise him.

And she did. 

Saffi pushed herself up on the executive table behind her, trying to do it like a 

sex siren but then she accidentally shoved the marble ash tray off, causing it to 

crash on the ground. The sound made her jump. “Romantic razorfish!” 

This time he had to ask, “Did you say anything?” 

Saffi thought quickly. “A romantic Robin Thicke song, I said.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked straight-faced. “I think I heard you say something –ish 

in the end.” 

“A song-ish?” 

“I see.” Staffan focused on removing his watch, using the time to control his 

amusement. 

“I…I need some music to get me going.” 

“Ah.”Playing along, he walked where his iPod was docked – all the hotel suites 

he stayed at were always pre-arranged and pre-equipped according to his needs. A 

few seconds later, the instrumental beats of Lost Without You filled the room. 

Staffan turned to her again. “Is that okay?” 

The amused gleam in his eyes stung a little. Maybe he was comparing her to 
other Gs and found her wanting? Without thinking, Saffi slowly let her legs fall 

open, deciding to just wing everything from this moment. 

Staffan’s jaw dropped, and it dropped even lower when Saffi slowly cupped her 

breasts. 

“I thought I’d give you reason to take your clothes off.” 

“Fuck yes.” His fingers swiftly worked on his buttons. 

The fire in his eyes made her wet, and Saffi could feel the moisture building be- 

tween her legs, making her folds slick. Knowing that the heat in his gaze was for 

her - only for her - made Saffi bolder, and it felt entirely natural that she moved her 

hands again. 

When he saw Saffi slowly hold her nipples and gently roll it between her fin- 

gers, Staffan groaned, his fingers fumbling to a stop. 

Her fingers ceased moving. 

“Don’t stop,” he said harshly. 

“Then don’t stop taking your clothes off.” 

“Deal.” He worked on the last button again and her fingers started moving 

once more, this time pulling her nipples up, as if wanting them to be more erect.

His shirt finally fell to the floor, and his dick thrust all the way up at the sight of 

Saffi’s eyes widening in open fascination. She stared at his chest like it was the 

most magnificent thing she had ever seen, her eyes lingering on his abs. 

He flexed instinctively. 

She gasped. 

“Do it again,” she whispered. 

Saffi’s innocent demand made Staffan want to tear across the room and just 

take her. But he managed to quell the wild desires of his body and focused on flex- 

ing his muscles again. 

She pinched her nipple with each flex. 

She moaned. He growled. 

“Pants,” she gasped. 

“Pussy,” he ordered as his hands went to the buckle of his belt. 

Saffi couldn’t help but whimper at what he was asking, but even so her fingers 

were already moving. Her parted legs shook as she slowly let her fingers graze her 
wet flesh. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked hoarsely as he threw his belt to the floor. 

She couldn’t help tracing her own folds, up to down, imagining it was Staffan 

touching her. The sensation her fingers created, coupled with the heated images in- 

side her mind, made Saffi arch up in blatant need. “Yes.” 

Saffi’s desire-coated voice almost pushed him to the edge. 

She looked at him and could have wept when she realized he still had his black 

briefs on. “I want you naked,” she half-demanded, half-begged in a voice tremulous 

with need. 

And he wanted to fuck her, over and over, until she would be completely filled 

with his cum. 

Staffan managed to say, “Then open yourself to me.” When she stared at him 

with wide eyes, he gritted out, “Now!” 

The command made her whimper again, but it also heightened the need inside 

her, making her almost desperate to do what he asked. When she reached for her- 

self for two hands, he shook his head. 

“Just one hand.” 

Her left hand fell back while her other hand moved closer. And then she was 

parting her own folds, pulling it open as widely as she could with her thumb and 

middle finger. She gasped as she stretched herself open. It made her feel so beauti- 

fully exposed to Staffan’s ravenous gaze. 

Staffan reached for his briefs and pulled it down. 

When he straightened, his dick was finally out for her to see, big, long, and oh 

so hard and eager to be inside her. 

Saffi moaned again. “Staffan!” Now she realized why he wanted her one hand 

free. Because he knew she would need it to touch herself. And so she did. 

The sight of Saffi touching herself, of wanting him so much she had to mastur- 

bate, demolished what little control he had over himself. 

“Staffaaaaan!” 

Suddenly he was there, down on his knees, head between her legs, and mouth 

– oh his wonderful wicked mouth was on her flesh. He started to lick her, hard 

enough that she went completely limp in desire. Her body fell back and her hands 
gripped the table’s edge behind her head. 

“Staffan!” She couldn’t help screaming his name as he continued to torment 

her with his tongue, which danced just as beautifully as the rest of his body. She 

felt Staffan pushing her legs up and then placing them over his shoulders. She 

immediately locked her legs around his neck. 

Saffi’s pink, quivering pussy was the best he had ever tasted. Staffan didn’t 

know why. He simply knew it was so, and right now the fact that her pussy was the 

best he ever had was more than fucking enough for his dick. 

“Staffan!” Her screams were making it harder and harder for him to control 

himself. Staffan had planned to torment her, to seduce her into telling the truth but 

right now he knew those plans were going to hell. He hadn’t counted on being in- 

sane with need, of dying if he did not let his dick bury itself in her moist, warm pas- 

sage. 

“Staffan!” His name broke out in a shocked gasp as she suddenly found herself 

being carried, her thighs resting on his shoulders, his mouth still on her. She 

swayed and had to grip his hair for balance, but still Staffan kept moving until he 

reached the bed. 

He knelt on the bed before slowly lowering Saffi on her back, even as his kiss 

relentlessly continued in driving her mad. 

“I’m c-coming!” Her legs dropped from his shoulders and fell splayed open on 

the bed.

He moved up to bite her clit. “Is that so?” 

She screamed and beat his shoulder, hating and loving the taunting tone of his 

voice. Her head tossed and turned on the pillow. “Staffan, please.” 

“What is it?” 

She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment even as she gritted out, “Make 

me come!” 

He laughed, the sound triumphant and possessive. “As you wish, H.” He 

thrust his tongue in. 

It was more than enough. 

She came with a scream, her body jerking at the strength of her release. 

Staffan pulled himself up, knowing it was the optimal time to take her virginity. 
Her dazed eyes met his, desire and understanding in it. “Staffan,” she whis- 

pered as his arms rested against each side of her face. 

“I’m going to take your virginity now.” 

She nodded. 

He buried his dick, and her wet and quivering pussy took him all in, her own re- 

lease smoothing and easing his passage. There was no pain, and he was more than 

glad for it. He hadn’t wanted to see his Saffi hurt for any reason. 

Saffi could feel the last of her juices dripping out of her, but even so she could 

already feel her desire building, her inner muscles slowly tightening around 

Staffan’s dick, which felt wondrously large and thick, almost too much so. 

Above her, Staffan’s jaw was clenched hard, and she knew he was exercising ex- 

traordinary control to keep himself moving. 

My love, she thought. 

The sudden reappearance of the dreamy smile he was so fascinated with made 

his body jerk. 

She gasped. 

He gritted his teeth. “Fuck. Sorry. Does it still---” 

Her smile came back, and its emotion was mirrored by her doe-like eyes as she 

looked up at him. “Do it again.” 

Staffan didn’t need to be asked twice. 

He pulled almost all the way out before sinking in. 

She moaned. 

He did it again and again, reining in his impulse to ram into her like a stallion 

in a rut. Staffan was rewarded just a few moments later as Saffi’s hands crept over 

his shoulders, her nails reaching into his back before digging deep into his skin. 

“More.” 

One hand went under her nape while another went under her butt. And then 

without warning, he was pounding into her, fast, hard, and furious and all she 

could do was hang on to him and let Staffan take her as he willed. 

The positions of his hands took away her equilibrium, making it seem as if she 

was but a doll that was entirely his to please. And she loved it. Every second of it. 

Every way of it. She wanted more and wished it would never end. 
“More, Staffan,” she panted, shameless now in her need, deliberately spurring 

him to possess her. 

“Fuck!” Her words inflamed him, and his hips began to pump into her more 

furiously. 

Saffi’s head fell back, her nails digging deeper. “Staffan.” 

“I know, baby.” 

That one term of endearment did it for her. 

She screamed, convulsing around him. 

“FUCK!” He pistoned into her as fast as he could, his balls slapping heavily 

against her pussy. And then he was there, too, joining her over the edge of their re- 

lease, and he shouted her name as he shot his cum inside her. 

When his body fell heavily on top of her, she immediately tightened her arms 

around him. Her legs went around his hips, too, and she wished it was enough to 

keep his dick and his cum inside her. 

Staffan braced himself on his elbows to look at Saffi searchingly. “You’re 

okay?” he asked gruffly. 

“Yes.” 

“Anything else you want to say?” he prodded finally, wondering if she would tell 

the truth now. 

She nodded. 

He braced himself again, this time for hearing the truth. “What is it?” 

Saffi placed her hand on his cheek, and Staffan felt it shaking hard against his 

skin. “You were worth waiting for,” she whispered. 

Goddammit to hell. 

He closed his eyes, not wanting the soft dreamy smile on Saffi’s face to 

completely break the walls he had erected around his heart. 

She was too fucking late. 

If he had met her before Chloe, perhaps they had a chance. 

But not now – not when he knew the fucking truth about the harsh realities of 

the world. 

When it was clear he wouldn’t speak, Saffi told herself she wasn’t disappointed. 

Did she really think he’d fall in love with her just because she had given him her 
virginity? He was Staffan Aehrenthal and she was – nobody. She wasn’t even Saffi 

March, who was just barely better than her “H” persona. 

She pulled him down for a kiss, her lips telling him without words that he did 

not have to say anything. 

Staffan rolled them over, Saffi lying on his chest. In moments, his little starry- 

eyed charmer was asleep. He lied awake the whole night, savoring the feel of Saffi 

in his arms, and knowing that he was about to take a huge risk tomorrow. 

He had to do something to make the truth clear to Saffi. They would be good 

together. He could feel it in his bones. They would be even better than how he and 

his traitorous bitch of an ex had been. 

But for that to happen, he had to do something despicable first. 

Those stars in her eyes had to go.

Chapter Six 

Saffi March changed her status to It’s complicated. 

Staffan woke up to find Saffi gone from his bed. The knowledge made him 

completely awake…and desperate. He threw the covers away and stalked out of the 

bed. “Saffi?” He paused, waiting and hoping she would answer somewhere from 

the suite. 

But there was nothing. 

His fists clenched. “Saffi?” This time he didn’t bother keeping his volume 

down. 

The door flew open. 

His heart slammed against his chest as he held his breath. 

But it was only Bob. 

“You’re finally awake, boss.” Seeing Staffan standing buck naked in the middle 

of his hotel suite was nothing new to Bob. He had seen his employer in far worse 

situations and rarely alone at that. 

The smile on his bodyguard’s face made Staffan irrationally furious, and he 

swiftly turned away to prevent himself from snapping at Bob for no reason. He 

stalked into the vast en-suite bathroom, flinging the closet doors open to grab a 

robe. 

Bob busied himself making coffee, used to Staffan’s temperamental ways al- 

though a bit puzzled by it. Saffi had woken up in extremely good spirits. He had ex- 

pected Staffan to be the same, and seeing that the opposite was true bemused him. 

“Coffee, boss?” 

Staffan nodded his thanks. He allowed the coffee to do its work, waiting for the 

burning liquid to pour down his throat. Finally he asked, “Do you know where Saffi 

went?” 

Bob almost smirked. No matter how hard Staffan tried to hide it, he clearly 

cared a lot about the answer. Good for you, H, he thought. 

The chilling glare that Staffan sent his way made Bob answer hurriedly, “She’s 

helping out with the crew.” 

Staffan’s cup rattled as he almost dropped it together with the saucer. The 
strength of his relief at hearing Saffi hadn’t actually left him was immense and 

undeniable. 

Bob’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Boss?” 

He strove for control. This time, he had a pressing urge to wring the neck of a 

certain dark-haired girl with a penchant for dreamy smiles. What the fuck was she 

doing there? Didn’t she fucking know she belonged at his side? 

“It’s fine. Get the driver ready. I’m leaving right after my shower.” He paused. 

“Have my PA call Yanna and let her know that I’m doing the date on the day of the 

concert. Get her to pick five girls, print their profiles out and bring them to me im- 

mediately.” 

Bob had a suddenly sinking feeling that Staffan, for some insane reason, was 

going back to his old ways. To the time that he was ruining himself for nothing. 

“Immediately, boss?” he repeated, hoping his employer would take it back. 

Staffan stomped down the insidious stirrings of doubt inside him. He was 

doing the best thing here. Saffi was a smart girl. She’d see it that way, too. “Yeah, 

immediately.” 

Ignoring Bob’s disapproving frown, he dismissed the other man with another 

curt nod. 

Staffan allowed himself to grimace the moment Bob left his hotel suite, slam- 

ming the door in his wake. Bob had never done that before. 

What was it with Saffi March that made it so easy for her to wriggle into peo- 

ple’s hearts? 

He gritted his teeth at how helplessly drawn he felt towards her, as if she were a 

drug he was naturally addicted to. But it would be different this time. He would 

prove it to himself, to Saffi, and to everyone else. It would be extremely good be- 

tween them – but it had to be on his terms. 

His door opened again, with Bob poking his head inside. “Boss, do you want 

breakfast?” 

“No thanks.” It was just eight o’ clock. He would have breakfast with Saffi--- 

“You sure, boss? If you’re planning having breakfast with H, you should know 

that she already went to McDonald’s with Carson.” The door slammed shut. 

Staffan’s teeth clenched together again. He should fucking fire Bob. The man 
was goddamn clueless about who his loyalty should belong to. 

Saffi had shared breakfast with Carson at McDonald’s. 

Staffan cursed. 

What the fuck are you up to now, min himmel?

“You don’t sound fine, Saffi,” Steel said in his usual quiet voice over the phone. 

Saffi clenched her eyes shut at her brother’s words. Thank God she had been 

smart enough to decide against video-calling him. If she had, everything would be 

over. Steel had always been overprotective about her, had always felt personally re- 

sponsible for what happened when she was in high school. Vania had been his girl- 

friend then, and he had blamed himself for not being able to put a stop to her 

plans. 

If he saw her now, just one look at her face would be more than enough for him 

to fly straight to Vegas and whisk her away. 

But she didn’t need saving. 

Even though she knew what she had with Staffan wouldn’t last and would only 

end with her heart breaking, Saffi didn’t care. She wanted as much time as she 

could with Staffan, and she couldn’t remember wanting anything as much as she 

wanted being close to him. 

“I’m okay,” she finally said. “I’m just tired. The concert ended really late.” 

“If you say so.” Reluctance underlined Steel’s voice, letting Saffi know that he 

was only taking her words at face value because he chose to do so. 

She quickly changed the subject. “How’s Dad’s campaign going?” Saffi ex- 

pected Steel to answer with small talk, but he surprised her instead by ssaying 

something else. 

“There’s still time enough to cancel the engagement, Saffi.” 

Her throat tightened, cutting off her oxygen supply. Just for this weekend, she 

had done her very best to forget about that, but she should have known Steel 

would force it out in the open. All of a sudden, she felt terrified of something she 

used to have no qualms about. Staffan made her different, and now she wondered 

if she could really stomach letting another man touch her body the way Staffan did. 

Even if it was Jeremy, someone she had known her whole life---could she really 

bear giving herself to another man? 

“Saffi?” Steel asked sharply. “Something’s happened to you.” It was more a 

statement than a question, her brother’s legendary instincts kicking in. 

She pressed her hand against her chest, hard, as if she could use the pressure 

to calm her furiously beating heart. “Let’s just talk about it next time.” She paused. 

“Don’t tell Mom or Dad anything. Please, Steel?” 

He expelled his breath harshly. “I don’t like this.” 

“Please, Steel. Trust me. I’m fine. I’ll go home this Sunday as planned. So 

please---just give me this weekend. Don’t worry about me. I’ve never been happier 

actually.” 

“And never been sadder, too, Saffi. That’s what’s worrying me the most.” 

Her hand tightened around her phone. “Everything’s going to be as planned. 

I’m still going to be engaged with Jeremy, Dad’s still going to be elected for his sec- 

ond term as senator, and…everything will be okay. Everyone will be okay.” 

“And you?” Steel asked. “Everyone will be okay except you. Is that how it will 

be?” 

“Goodbye, Steel.” She ended the call, dashing her tears off with the back of her 

hand. 

Alan and Donovan were still waiting for her outside the restroom when she 

came out. 

“Are you okay?” Alan asked, concerned. He was already dressed for dance prac- 

tice, in a sleeveless shirt, sweat pants, and hi-cuts. He was the very definition of 

swag, and she started to understand why Staffan might have considered the idea 

she was flirting with Alan. He really was good-looking, and he did not look gay at 

all. 

She glanced at Alan’s companion. Even Donovan was undeniably cute, dressed 

in yet another hot-grad-school nerd outfit with his neatly pressed shirt and jeans. 

Saffi flashed them a smile. “I’m super good. Why shouldn’t I be when I just had the 

best night of my life?” 

They laughed. 

“Who knew you’d be so wild,” Alan teased. 

She rolled her eyes. “I know. I’m pretty sure everyone from high school would 

have a hard time understanding any guy – much less someone like Staffan – liking 
me.” 

Donovan would have laughed if not for the real grimace on Saffi’s face. “You’re 

not kidding?” he gasped. Saffi was exquisitely beautiful, like a fragile doll…that 

Nickelodeon created instead of Mattel. Pretty…but quirky. 

Alan winced. “She’s not kidding, and I’m one of those to blame---” 

Saffi waved his words away in exasperation. “Of course you’re not! Peer pres- 

sure and bullying were to blame. That’s all.” Deciding that another change of sub- 

ject was called for, she asked, “Can I join your dance practice today? I mean, just 

on the sides. I won’t be a bother, I promise.” 

Alan choked. “You? Dance?” 

“Hey!” She was deeply affronted at the look in Alan’s eyes. 

Donovan grinned. “That bad, huh?” 

“You have no idea,” Alan said feelingly. 

“HEY!” 

Alan ignored her. “I slow-danced with her during graduation ball and she 

stepped on my toe every five seconds.” 

“I did not!” 

He lifted a brow at her. “Really?” 

“It was every seven seconds.” 

Alan threw his hands up. “See?” 

“I could have improved a lot since then, you know?” At his dubious expression, 

she insisted, “Really. My dad paid for professional lessons.” Or at least that was 

how she liked to call her copy of Hip Hop Abs with Shaun T. 

Alan’s doubt turned into hesitation. “Really?” 

She tried not to grin at how easy she had fooled him. “Really.” 

This time, he looked impressed. “Cool.” 

When they entered the huge concert hall, where a part of it had been tempo- 

rarily set aside for dance practice, the first thing Saffi saw was Mitch. 

Shit! Saffi made a quick about face. She was so not in the mood to get into an- 

other catfight! 

Behind her, Alan said happily, “Guess what, guys? H’s here and wants to prac- 

tice with us!” Alan reached her side and twirled her around to face everyone. Saffi 
watched Mitch’s eyes widen in recognition. 

Mitch was in a rage. Dressed in another all-black ensemble because she knew it 

made her look sophisticated like a celebrity, she could only curse silently when she 

saw the same groupie who ruined her night at the concert. How could Staffan 

Aehrenthal prefer that slut over her? She was a real woman, a decent woman while 

this---this whore was nothing! 

Saffi pretended to twist her ankle. “Oh, wow. I think I just hurt myself.” 

Alan and Donovan stared at her blankly. 

Mitch said loudly, “If she wants to dance so much then maybe she’ll be game 

for a dance-off. Winner has dibs on Staffan’s bed tonight.” 

She was so not going to stoop to the insane fangirl’s level, Saffi decided, and 

especially since she knew she had absolutely no chance of winning. Saffi twisted 

her ankle to another angle. “I’d love to, umm, dance off, but I don’t think it’s going 

to happen, not with my ankle…” 

“Oooh. She’s walking away,” Mitch jeered. “I guess she knows groupies like her 

are just good for nothing but sex.” 

Saffi froze. 

She thought about Carmina and her friends and the way they had fun hanging 

out during the concert, the way those girls had fought for her and even helped her 

get past the checkpoint of Staffan’s backstage area. 

Without thinking, Saffi rotated her ankle clockwise twice, exclaiming with exag- 

gerated shock, “Oh my goodness, I think I’m fine now.” 

Alan slowly lifted his hand up…and smacked himself in the forehead. This, he 

thought, was not going to be good. It had Silly Sapphire written all over, like the 

countless times Saffi did the craziest things back when they were kids because she 

was more gullible and innocent than a newborn. 

Mitch had started warming up in front of her, cracking her knuckles, stretching 

her limbs, and twisting her body in no way a vertebrate had a right to. 

Pretending she was just as experienced, Saffi did a little stretch, too, standing 

on her toes only to lose her balance a few seconds after. The other dancers choked 

back their laughter as she tumbled to the side and hurriedly righted herself. 

Saffi lifted her chin. “No matter how good your moves are on the dance floor, 
they won’t do you any good when you’re in Staffan’s bed. You’ll leave him cold and 

you’ll---” Saffi tried to come up with a really nasty insult. “---you’ll make his dick 

hide like a turtle inside a shell because you’re so bad in bed!” 

Mitch saw red. “Bitch!” And then she was charging towards Saffi like a bull in 

Prada. 

Saffi shrieked in surprise, but Alan and Donovan managed to hold Mitch back, 

the other woman’s nails just inches away from clawing her face. 

“Let’s just settle this with a dance-off. It’s the civilized thing to do here,” Dono- 

van said hastily. Alan turned to her with wriggling eyebrows and actually winking, 

as if he wanted to make sure she knew that Donovan was doing her a big favor. 

She glared back. Had Alan forgotten she had two left feet--- 

Shit. She suddenly remembered what she had also told him that she had 

professional lessons. Saffi gulped. One look at Mitch and she knew the other 

woman was the type to pay for actual professional lessons. It could be anything 

from pole dancing to belly dancing to anything that could help Mitch’s transition 

from fangirl to Mrs. Superstar. 

Okay, she was so going to…be killed. 

Saffi knew girls like Mitch – the ones that gave true fangirls a bad rep. It didn’t 

matter to women like Mitch who they’d end up being with. All they wanted was the 

fame. They just weren’t as honest about it as the Gs, and they’d use anything – like 

this dance-off – to score. 

She took a step closer, the very idea of having Staffan spend time – for what- 

ever reason – with someone so undeserving of him firing Saffi up like she was a 

sports car running on full tank. Mitch and Staffan? Over her dead body! In fact, if 

Mitch did kill her in this dance battle, Saffi would rather hand Staffan over to 

Carmina. 

She pointed at Mitch. “Game on.” 

~~~ 

It was barely nine in the morning and the stage area was already ringing with 

noise. Usually, most of his crew would still be tired after the flight and some even 

hung over from the open bar last night. It was rare for them to be completely ener- 

getic and noisy in the morning, and there could only be one explanation for it. 
Saffi. 

Staffan quickened his steps and a little while later he was running full force to- 

wards the stage area as the shouts got louder. Why were they cheering? Maybe 

Saffi and Carson were doing something together? He ran even faster at the 

thought. It didn’t fucking matter what they were doing together. He just wanted 

them apart – completely. 

If that young asshole even dared touch what was his--- 

He bumped into Bob in his haste. 

Bob’s eyes widened at the naked fury in Staffan’s eyes. “It’s not what you 

think!” he said quickly. He didn’t really know what his employer was thinking. All 

he knew was that Staffan had to have the wrong idea to look this mad, especially 

considering what Saffi was doing right now. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Staffan didn’t bother waiting for an answer. 

“What the hell’s going on?” Ahead of him, his entire crew – the backup dancers 

and vocals, the tech crew, and even his management team – was all cheering and 

chanting, almost drowning out the music that was playing. 

“It’s a dance-off, boss.” Bob looked discomfited. “With you as the prize.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“One of the groupies from LA is here again and she challenged Saffi to a dance 

off.” 

“And she agreed?” His Saffi March, who he was guessing had to be extremely 

smart to be taking a post-graduate degree on fish, had agreed? 

Bob nodded. 

“Is she any good?” 

The other man coughed because any other response would be…awkward. 

Staffan coughed as well, needing to hide his embarrassment. “That’s all I need 

to know.” 

And it really was. Staffan’s chest eased, like a heavy burden had just been lifted 

off his shoulders. He walked at a leisurely pace and as word spread about his pres- 

ence, the crowd immediately parted, automatically making space for Staffan to walk 

unhindered all the way to the front. 

The first thing he saw was Saffi, standing at the edge, a concentrated frown on 
her face. Mitch was dancing in the center, and even he had to admit it was an ex- 

tremely good dance, with just the right amount of softness and snap. With both of 

them had their backs to him, neither girl wasn’t aware of his presence. 

Mitch was dancing to Rihanna’s Diamonds, and the song perfectly suited her 

style of dance. Staffan knew the woman had to be professionally taught to dance 

like that. 

“Saffi’s up next!” Donovan shouted. 

The crowd cheered so wildly it was deafening, and Staffan caught sight of the 

disgruntled look on Mitch’s face as she walked off. 

Saffi quickly whispered something to the pink-haired girlfriend of one of his vo- 

cals before moving to the center. She was nervous but doing her best not to show 

it. She had braided her hair, and it made her look impossibly younger, especially 

with her face free of makeup. She wore a floral dress with an extremely low neck- 

line. 

Since he was pretty sure Saffi hadn’t come with any luggage, Staffan guessed 

that she had bought the dress from one of the hotel boutiques. And as this was 

one of his stepfather’s hotels, he also knew the dress would have cost a lot of 

money. Had Saffi paid for it herself or had Carson paid for it? Jealousy flared, hot 

and dangerous, but he forgot all about it when her music started to play and Saffi 

began to move. 

Un-fucking-believable. 

The crowd burst into laughter even as they clapped their hands. 

He gaped, unable to believe that his very feminine, elegant, and charmingly 

awkward Saffi March was dancing to Psy’s Gangnam Style. 

When the song reached the chorus and Saffi actually went on doing the exact 

moves that Psy popularized in his music video, Staffan forgot all about keeping his 

fucking image intact. He burst into laughter. 

Saffi gasped, knowing that sound. She whirled around. Everyone whirled 

around with her. 

The pink-haired girl gasped and quickly reached for her iPod. The music died 

mid-beat. 

Saffi couldn’t stop staring. After last night, she should have been used to his 
looks. But if anything, being in his arms – knowing how freaking good he was in 

bed – just made him look even more gorgeous in her eyes. Staffan stood several 

feet away from her, taller than everyone else in the crowd and definitely more beau- 

tiful than everyone in the world. His hair was still wet, and he was again dressed 

beautifully in another three-piece ensemble. His hazel eyes gleamed as an amused 

smile formed on his lips. 

And then he chuckled, as if unable to help it. 

She could just die from sheer happiness at that sound. Staffan wasn’t the type 

to smile, to chuckle, to laugh – but he did all three just now. She knew enough of 

his background to understand why he had such a hard time showing happiness 

and the fact that he did now – that she was the cause of it – was incredible. It made 

her head reel. 

Staffan started to move, and with his long-legged strides, it took only a fraction 

of a time for him to stand right in front of her, making Saffi absolutely breathless at 

his nearness alone. He smelled divine. He was divine. 

His nostrils flared at the way Saffi’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, making her 

look like she couldn’t get enough of him. But that was good. In fact, it was fucking 

perfect since he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon.

He took her braid, running his fingers on its twisted strands and enjoying its 

silky smooth texture. He murmured huskily, “You win, Saffi.” 

It took a moment before the words sank in. Saffi’s eyes widened, Mitch gasped, 

but the crowd went berserk. Bob nodded at his security team to escort the other 

woman out before she could cause trouble. The warning gazes from the two men 

clutching her arms kept her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help glaring at Saffi over 

her shoulder even as she was dragged away, promising herself silently that this was 

not going to be the end. 

Saffi was utterly oblivious to what had just happened, and even the loud cheers 

of Staffan’s crew didn’t entirely reach her. All she could see, hear, and feel had to 

do with the divinely gorgeous man standing in front of her. “Y-you know what we 

were doing?” 

Still holding the braid, he teased, “A dance off with me as a prize?” 

She blushed, forgetting for the moment that Gs didn’t blush so easily. 
Staffan smirked. “I hate to tell you this, H, but you sucked.” 

She smiled sheepishly. “But you still chose me as a winner, though.” 

“Not because you danced better.” He leaned close. “It’s because you’re the 

only woman I want to fuck right now.” 

Her heart tripped at his words. Looking up at him, Saffi wondered if Staffan had 

any idea of how his eyes were giving her a completely different message from how 

he had acted last night. But then it didn’t matter. She was in love with him either 

way. 

Staffan tugged at her braid. “This is a very unusual hairstyle for a groupie, H.” 

Oops. 

She stammered, “It’s daytime. I only, umm, go for wilder styles at night.” 

He coughed. “I see.” 

She tried not to look flustered. God, that was so lame. 

He tugged her braid again. “Since you won the dance off, I’m going to give you 

a prize, too.” 

Saffi squealed, unable to help it. 

Staffan coughed harder. How could she be so smart and yet so naïve at the 

same time? Did she really think she could fool anyone with her ridiculous cover-up 

as a G? No self-respecting groupie would squeal like a five-year-old getting her first 

Barbie just because she was promised a prize.

Without attempting to lower his voice, wanting every man in the vicinity to hear 

and know just who Saffi March belonged to, Staffan said simply, “You get to fuck 

me.” Before she had time to gasp, he added in a matter-of-fact voice, “Now.” 

And then he was sweeping her in his arms and taking Saffi to the nearest room 

with a door that could be locked – which happened to be the office of the day man- 

ager for the concert venue. 

Staffan dealt the other man a look. “I need your office. Now.” 

Saffi bit back a groan of embarrassment, hiding her flushed face in the crook of 

his neck. 

The day manager wasn’t stupid. He hurried out without a word, knowing that 

Staffan Aehrenthal was a man to be obeyed at all costs. 

Staffan kicked the door shut. “Ready to be fucked?” he asked as he let Saffi 
down. 

In answer, she wriggled out of her panties and placed it on the table. 

He groaned---a deep, long, lust-crazed one that came all the way from his belly, 

heated by the fire in his loins. “You’re so fucking sexy you’re driving me out of my 

mind.” 

She said shyly, “You, too. I feel exactly the same way---” The rest of her words 

were lost in his kiss, Staffan hauling her to him in one rough and hungry motion. 

He kissed her like he was dying and only she could bring him back to life. 

Something hard pressed against the soft skirt of her dress. 

Or rather, Saffi was the only one could make his dick come alive this fast. 

As she lifted the skirt of her dress, she hoped it was true. That he’d only hunger 

for her, even if it was just for a while. 

Saffi gasped when he suddenly flipped her around. “Do you still feel sore 

here?” His hand drifted down, wetting his finger with the moisture that had so 

quickly formed between her legs. 

She shook her head. 

“The truth,” he growled. 

“I just want you in,” she gasped. 

“Good. We’ll try something different this time.” With his fingers still moving 

against her flesh but never quite thrusting in, Staffan made her move so that they 

were facing the window. Reaching past her, which caused his fingers to press 

against her clit and making her gasp, he twisted the blinds partially open, allowing 

them to see outside while keeping them hidden from view. 

“Grab the sills, baby,” he told her as he pushed her down. 

Saffi held the sills, feeling exquisitely exposed once more as he felt Staffan’s 

gaze devouring her naked legs and sex. The fact that she still had her heels on, the 

sound of Staffan unbuckling his belt behind her and unzipping his pants to let his 

dick spring free---all of it caused Saffi to let out a whimper. 

Staffan rubbed his dick against her quivering sex. “Do you want this, H?” 

“Yes.” She was already panting and they hadn’t yet done anything. 

The naked yearning in her voice made his dick throb and pulse like it was about 

to burst. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

She wriggled her butt, trying to get him to enter her. 

Staffan slapped her ass, and she yelped. “That will teach you to wait.” 

“Please,” she begged when he pulled away, leaving her feeling empty and 

aching. 

“Please what, baby?” He caressed the soft skin of her ass, mesmerized at the 

pinkish imprint he had left. “Do you want me to fuck you---back doors?” 

She stiffened with a gasp. “No!” 

He pushed her back down when she tried to straighten up, saying teasingly just 

to torment her, “But I thought you did that already.” 

Those freaking lies! She opened her mouth to confess the truth. “I…” She closed 

her eyes, trying to think, and then inspiration hit her. “I…need a butt plug.”Shit. She 

had lied again. When she felt Staffan actually rub his dick against the curve be- 

tween her butt cheeks, she cried out quickly, “The butt plug is…necessary...to, 

umm, prepare me…for…that.” 

Under his touch, he felt Saffi stiffening more and more with every rub of his 

dick against her tiny nether hole. Deciding he had teased her enough, he reposi- 

tioned his dick against her sex, smiling a little when he felt her relax instantly at the 

contact. 

“That’s too bad about the butt plug. Maybe next time.” 

“Uhh, yeah, next---ahh.” Staffan had pressed his fingers against her clit, harder 

and harder until she gasped. 

“Did you like that?” he drawled huskily, his voice arousing her even more. 

“Yes,” she gasped out. 

“What else do you want?” 

Saffi bit her lip. 

“Say it like a hot G with a dirty mouth,” he whispered. 

She blurted out, “Please…fuck me. Shove your dick inside me. Take my---” 

“Goddammit, H.” He was in even before he finished speaking, her unexpected 

words arousing her to such heights he had completely lost control. Staffan had 

never thought someone like Saffi could say things like that, and that she was doing 

so, to him, made him thrust harder into her, his dick sinking deeper and deeper 

into her welcoming heat. 

As Staffan’s thrusts became harder, rougher, and wilder, she bit back a scream, 

knowing that his entire crew was outside. Some of them might even have their ears 

to the door. The thought was scary and exciting, and it made her wriggle her butt 

again, desperate for the kind of heavy pounding that she knew Staffan could give 

her. 

“Ready, H?” he growled against her throat. 

Before she could nod, he was indeed pounding into her, his dick jettisoning in- 

side Saffi like a relentless hot rod that her sex couldn’t get enough of. She held on 

to the window sill desperately, knowing if she let go she would be flying. 

“Scream for me, baby.” 

She shook her head, biting her lip harder. 

He reached out for her breasts, which swung with every deep and hard thrust 

he made. As he pinched her nipples, he gritted, “Scream.” 

She screamed. He left her no choice, not with the way he was making her mind- 

less with pleasure. His thrusts went deeper and faster, and she started to sob, feel- 

ing her climax so close but somehow not near enough. 

Staffan suddenly gripped her legs, pulling it up until she was practically lying 

horizontal in the air. When his cock rammed back into her, she needed no further 

prodding. 

“Staffan!” His body shook at the way Saffi screamed his name. 

“Oh, God, oh, yes, please, Staffan. Staffan!” Her eyes fell close as she felt her 

body start to tremble with her impending release. 

His fingers dug into her ass, loving how smooth and firm it was at the same 

time. His eyes roamed on her legs, all the way back. And that was when he saw it, 

remembered it --- his Saffi March still had her sexy kitten heels on. 

Fuck!

“Come with me, baby,” he growled as he felt his cock tense, preparing to shoot 

out his cum. He quickly lowered Saffi back even as he thrust in and out of her, one 

of his hands going under to find her sweet little nub. He pinched it as he came 

with a shout and Saffi followed closely behind, sobbing his name out as her body 

was wracked with great heaving tremors. 

“Staffan,” she cried out, loving the way he kept on jerking into her, making her 
feel so incredibly hot and full. She pressed her thighs together, wanting to prolong 

the feeling. 

And then she felt it, a soft but unmistakable touch as her heart slowed down to 

normal. 

A kiss on her spine, just a tender touch of his lips. 

Her eyes closed. Staffan Aehrenthal liked his women slutty and not sweet. And 

if the reports were to be believed, he was the same. He was an animal in bed, re- 

lentless, ruthless, and ravenous. But he wasn’t sweet. 

Yet what else could that kiss be but sweet? 

She bit her lip to keep the words inside, but it didn’t stop her heart from racing, 

didn’t stop her mind from wishing for the impossible. Could she let herself hope 

about the two of them? 

When they went out of the room an hour later – and it took that long because 

he had wanted to have sex again and of course Saffi had wanted it too - her legs felt 

so weak and she was so wobbly in her heels that she had to lean on him like a 

baby. 

“Did you really tell me the truth about being experienced, H? How can you be 

this weak after just two orgasms?” 

She was so physically tired she just said the truth. “I think it’s because you’re 

bigger than most and your stamina is unbelievable.” 

Staffan laughed, and her toes curled at the sound. “Bob will take you back to 

the hotel. I want you to rest while I rehearse. Later tonight – what do you want to do 

aside from fucking?” 

She pretended to think about it. “Mmm…give me a private concert?” When he 

didn’t answer, she looked up at him nervously. “I was just joking?” Staffan sud- 

denly looked odd, almost furious, like someone had walked over his grave. 

“I’m sorry. It’s…not personal. I just don’t sing if I’m not paid to do it.” 

The answer was curious to say the least, but Saffi was beginning to understand 

him and she knew by the look on his face that she shouldn’t push it. “No harm 

done,” she said lightly and quickly changed the subject. “I want to do something 

you haven’t done with any other fan-I mean groupie.” 

“A fivesome?” 
His dick twitched when she blushed in response, but he ignored it, knowing 

she would be too sore if he made love to her again. Staffan lifted a brow. “Well?” 

“There’s something else I want but it’s going to be selfish of me,” she admit- 

ted. “Is that okay?” 

God, she looked so fucking sweet when her eyes went big like that. Had she 

realized he’d give her the fucking world if she kept looking at him that way? “Yes,” 

he said gruffly. “That’s fine. So what it’s going to be?” 

“But it’s not terribly exciting.” 

“That’s fine.” 

“And it’s not---” 

“Get to the point, H.” 

“Watch TV with you.” Saffi immediately held her breath, unable to predict what 

Staffan’s answer would be. She knew that was more a fangirl’s answer than a 

groupie’s but she couldn’t help it. She only had this weekend with Staffan. If he 

was giving her a chance to do what she really wanted with him the most, then she 

was going all in with making her daydreams come true. 

She would have loved to enjoy an ordinary date with him, but she knew and 

understood that would be selfish of her with him on a tour. Also, he was Staffan 

Aehrenthal and she was Saffi March. At least with a date behind locked doors, Saffi 

wouldn’t have to worry about what others would think upon seeing them together. 

She’d also get to enjoy more alone time with Staffan, and that was always a plus. 

When he still didn’t say anything, she added helpfully, “We can watch whatever 

you want. I can go rent a movie or download something. Do you, umm, have any 

request?” 

Staffan shook his head, still incredulous. Was he really having this conver- 

sation? He had a fucking private jet at his disposal---did she forget they could go 

anywhere with it? He had all the money in the world, too. Wouldn’t she at least 

want to spend even a few thousands of it? 

Saffi suddenly giggled, the sound startling him, and the carefree look on her 

face mesmerizing him. Staffan looked around and saw Carson grinning at her as he 

used his body to mimic the actions of having sex. The other man quickly stopped 

when he realized Staffan was staring, making an about face in an instant and walk- 
ing away. 

Asshole. He was going to fucking donate Carson to another rockstar as soon as 

this tour ended. No fucking way was he going to let that guy in the same state with 

Saffi after this. His eyes drifted to other men, narrowing when he saw that most of 

the others were also staring at his Saffi. Jealousy caused him to stiffen, and Staffan 

cracked his knuckles as he looked at them one by one. 

Saffi jumped at the sound of knuckles cracking. “Staffan?” 

He only allowed himself to look back at Saffi when he was satisfied that every- 

one had gone back to their respective jobs – or at least they were fucking pre- 

tending to. Staffan stifled an exasperated sigh when he saw how Saffi didn’t even 

seem to realize she had everyone in the room entranced. 

She truly appeared to have only eyes for him, and her expectant hopeful gaze 

chipped another wall from his heart as she said, “I really just want to be with you.” 

She chewed on her lip. “Unless you think it’s totally boring? Because if you do, we 

can always---” 

She shut up when he kissed her. Hard. 

He pulled away. “TV it is.” 

She beamed then she remembered she was supposed to be a G and groupies 

did not beam. She hastily rearranged her expression and tried to look sultry in- 

stead. “Great.” 

Staffan smothered a laugh. Around them, he could hear the crowd doing the 

same, but this time he didn’t mind. He couldn’t fault them, after all. Saffi March 

was irresistible at times like this. He kissed her again, unable to help it, his tongue 

demanding entrance to mate with hers. She gasped against his mouth, her hands 

clutching his shoulders desperately as she felt her entire body melt. 

When he moved back, the stars were back in her eyes. 

It was a punch in the gut, tempting him to forget all about his plans of teaching 

Saffi about her role in his life. 

“That was so…” Her admittedly sparse vocabulary of groupie slang failed Saffi 

and she said simply, “Sexy. That was so sexy.” 

The sincerity in her voice made Staffan feel worse and better at the same time, 

his gut clenching even more when Saffi took a step back, a tiny frown marring her 
forehead. And then her eyes twinkled. It was all the warning he got. 

His dick stirred in anticipation as Saffi moved back towards him. When she 

reached his side, Staffan raised a brow but she did nothing, continuing to move 

forward as if she was about to walk past him. What the fuck--- 

And then he felt it. 

Saffi had slapped his ass, and when he turned around in disbelief – no woman, 

not even Chloe, had ever dared slapped his ass because all of them had been too 

intimidated by him – Staffan saw Saffi practically skipping her way out of the stage 

area. 

He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling happily to herself, and 

Staffan certainly didn’t need to look around to know that his entire crew was enjoy- 

ing their little exchange. Most women had a flair for turning their lives into soap 

operas but Saffi – only Saffi – was able to turn her life – and his - upside down and 

make it into a fucking sitcom. 

Saffi gasped when someone suddenly cupped her elbow from behind. In a sec- 

ond, every inch of her body was pressed against Staffan and he was looking down 

at her with unreadable eyes. 

Oops. Was he mad? She had thought that ass slapping was a very G thing to do, 

but maybe she was wrong? 

He bent down unexpectedly, making her jump. Every nerve ending in her body 

tingled as Staffan whispered into ear, “I know what I want us to watch now.” 

She relaxed. “What?” 

He moved back, his eyes glinting as it met hers. “Porn.” 

Her mouth opened and closed for several times. 

“As a very experienced G, you’ll surely have some great ones I probably haven’t 

seen yet.” He caressed her face, doing his best not to smirk when he saw her pale 

at his words. “Impress me, mm?” 

“Mmm…” she said weakly. 

He turned around. “Now go and rest. I’m looking forward to our TV date later.” 

She turned around, jumping with a surprised yelp when he slapped her ass 

hard just before she walked away. The laughter of the crowd didn’t bother her, not 

when she was already in a daze. Porn. Impressive porn. She let out a mental wail. 
What did that even mean? 

He watched Saffi walk away, no longer skipping. Instead, she walked like an 

elderly amnesiac, and knowing the reason behind it tempted him to grin. Staffan’s 

phone rang and he answered it distractedly. 

“Staffan?” It was Constantijin. 

He forced himself to concentrate as Saffi disappeared from view. “Yes, what is 

it?” 

“Yanna told me she got your confirmation about the fan date.” 

Staffan frowned at the questioning tone in his friend’s voice. “Is there a prob- 

lem with it?” 

“No, nothing. I simply wondered if she understood you correctly.” A pause. “Is 

she still with you?” 

Staffan stiffened at the question but saw no point in pretending he didn’t 

understand who the other man was referring to. “Yes.” But it was all he was willing 

to say. 

A longer pause followed before Constantijin spoke carefully, “I’ll only say this 

once, my friend. Whatever it is you’re planning – it will turn out badly.” 

He said tersely, “You don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” 

“I do know. I can’t help but know because I was an ass to Yanna once – the 

same way it seems that you want to be with her. But I also know you well enough 

that when you have made up your mind there is no changing it.” Constantijin 

sighed. “Just think about it more. That’s all I ask.” 

Chapter Seven 

Saffi March uploaded a new photo. 

Staffan and me. 

Visible only to Myself 

It was close to two in the morning when Staffan unlocked and opened the door 

to his hotel suite as quietly as he could. Guilt weighed down on him at the silent 

darkness that greeted him. Although Staffan had informed Saffi as early as possible 

about the extended hours of rehearsal, he still regretted having to break his word. 

Walking past the hallway, he shrugged off his jacket as he reached the living 

area. 

The lights suddenly turned on just as a voice shrieked, “Surprise!” 

“Motherfucking son of a goddamn bitch!” Staffan’s heart had nearly jumped 

out of his chest when Saffi came out of nowhere, her arms outstretched. 

She froze at the look of furious shock on Staffan’s face. “Oops?” 

“Goddammit to hell, Saffi,” Staffan roared. “You almost scared the shit out of 

me.” 

She bit her lip hard at the sight of Staffan white-faced and breathing hard. But 

after a minute, Saffi couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter. “Oh my God, I actu- 

ally scared you.” 

“You fucking didn’t,” he snapped. 

“Oh yes I fucking did!” she retorted with such childish glee it slowly melted his 

anger. 

“Goddammit, H.” But his words had absolutely no heat this time and they both 

knew it. 

Saffi smiled up at him. “Welcome back.” 

God, she was fucking sweet. Staffan had expected her to greet him with tears of 

exaggerated hurt and disappoint, to pretend sleeping or even to find her actually 

asleep because he had done the unforgivable. But he hadn’t expected this – any of 

this. 

His every favorite dish was on the table, steaming hot, teasing his nostrils and 

making his stomach grumble. “Did you ask Bob about what I liked to eat?” 
“Nope.” A Cheshire cat smile played on Saffi’s lips. 

The sight of it alone made Staffan want to haul her into his arms and kiss her 

until she was gasping. He valiantly reined in his impulses to jump on her like a

starving maniac, not wanting to put all her planning to waste. “How did you know 

what to order then?” 

Because she was his #1 fangirl, that was why, Saffi thought a little ruefully. But if 

she said that, he would probably think she was a stalker. Instead she answered 

cheekily, “Gs never tell their secrets.” She was rewarded with a rare kind of grin, the 

one that made her want to clutch her chest. Oh. Oh, oh, dear oh. Be still, my heart. 

Uncomfortable at how Saffi was looking at him, Staffan glanced away, and this 

time he noticed the projector waiting on the coffee table. He nodded to it, surprise 

evident on his tone as he asked, “And that?” He walked past it to get one of the ice- 

cold beers on the dining table, pulling the table as he asked, ‘How did you manage 

to get a projector here?” 

Saffi answered blithely, “I gave the guy in the front desk a blowjob.” 

Staffan spewed a mouthful of beer. 

Oops. 

Cringing, she said weakly, “I was just joking?” 

He glared. “It wasn’t fucking funny.” 

“Sorry?” 

“At all.” 

“Super sorry?” 

A million words ran in his mind, and he wanted to say all of them to Saffi. 

Things like how she was the fucking sweetest girl in the world, that every little thing 

she did or say just made Staffan more fucking obsessed with her, and goddammit, 

he fucking wished he had met her from the very start---before Chloe had gotten her 

claws in him. 

But Staffan couldn’t say any of those. He wouldn’t and shouldn’t say any of 

those, which left him only one thing. 

She gasped when Staffan suddenly swept in his arms without a word and im- 

mediately headed to the master’s bedroom. “I know you wanted us to watch porn,” 

he whispered to her. 
Saffi gasped again. “I did not!” 

Ignoring that, he continued, “But I have a better idea, min himmel.” He gently 

lowered her in the center of the bed. And then he was looming over her, never tak- 

ing his gaze off Saffi as he slowly undressed himself. 

Fuck-me eyes. She had remembered reading those words, which were used 

frequently to describe Staffan’s gorgeous hazel orbs. And those words were so very 

true, making Saffi writhe restlessly under his gaze. She couldn’t stop staring, still 

unused to the sheer perfection of Staffan’s body, the way every inch of it was sleek 

and hard, bulging with muscles that tempted her hands to roam all over his beau- 

tiful golden skin. 

As he got rid of his briefs, Saffi couldn’t help looking down, unconsciously lick- 

ing her lips as his dick rose proudly, like it sensed her fascination. 

He stroked himself, surprising her, arousing her, and she whimpered. 

“Do you know what we’ll do instead, baby?” 

She shook her head, mute with desire. Her eyes widened in confusion when he 

slowly backed off the bed. As Staffan walked to the chest drawer below the huge 

wall-mounted TV, opening one of its drawers, Saffi couldn’t help but stare at his 

bare ass. She had never understood what women found so sexy about men’s butts 

until she had seen Staffan. It was, in one word, beautiful. 

When he turned around, he caught her staring. She blushed at his knowing 

look and then she saw what he was holding. “Wh-what is that?” That he had his 

own SLR and tripod didn’t surprise Saffi – she wasn’t just his #1 fangirl in name 

after all, and her diligent research all these years had made her privy to little-known 

trivia about him. For one thing, few people knew that he was fond of photography. 

Which was cool. But the fact that he was holding his camera and tripod now? That 

was not cool. 

“Staffan,” she said weakly, warningly. 

He responded with a smirk. 

Her jaw dropped. “No.” 

Staffan began setting it up. “Yes.” 

“NO.” She shook her head wildly even as wetness flooded the triangle between 

her legs. 
He pressed the red button that started recording. And then he looked at Saffi. 

“I’ve never done this with any of the other Gs.” It was true. 

Her heart stumbled at that, but she had led a very sheltered life, and what he 

was asking also meant throwing everything she knew about right and wrong to the 

wind. “Staffan,” she begged. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, the desire in her eyes and voice causing his 

arousal to reach a fevered pitch even though they hadn’t yet touched. “I want to 

have sex with you in front of a camera, baby. I want to have a chance to watch my- 

self fucking you, to see your face as you come any time I want.” 

She moaned, her body writhing restlessly again and she could only struggle 

half-heartedly as she felt him pushing her thighs wide open. “Will you let me?” 

Her eyes fell closed, her heart succumbing to the dark command of his voice. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

His chest swelled at the sweetness of her surrender. “Look at the camera, H.” 

She looked and bit her lip immediately, the knowledge that she would later see 

herself looking at the camera sending a wave of pure heat to hit her body. 

“Say that you’re going to let me eat your pussy.” 

She swallowed. “I---I’m g-going to let Staffan eat my pussy.” Another wave of 

heat washed over her body, and the heat only intensified as he pushed her thighs 

to open wider until she was completely stretched. 

“Staffan.” She moaned his name as if she was able to make love to it. 

And then he was doing what she had said, his tongue performing its beautiful 

magic on her skin and all Saffi could do was gasp. He jerked his head up. “Say 

you’ll play with your breasts while I eat you.” 

Her lips parted in shock even as she became wetter at what he was saying. 

His eyes darkened. “Now.” 

Saffi looked at the camera again as she slowly lifted her hands to her breasts. 

She couldn’t help but whimper as she pinched her own nipples, her voice hoarse 

with desire as she said, “I’ll play with my breasts while I let Staffan e-eat my pussy.” 

She ended with a gasp since Staffan’s head had dived back down, his tongue delv- 

ing deep, causing her to knead her breasts almost desperately. When he moved up 

to suck on her clit, she screamed and instinctively pulled on her nipples at the 
same time. 

Staffan sucked harder and longer at her flesh, loving the wetness and scent of 

Saffi’s sex as her screams filled the room. “Are you ready to come, H?” 

“Y-yes!” 

“Then say it.” 

This time she didn’t need any coaching. She looked down at Staffan then at the 

camera, gasping, “Staffan is going to make me come now!” 

He thrust one finger inside her as his teeth clamped hard on her clit. 

“Staffan!” She screamed his name over and over, her back arching at the 

strength of her orgasm. And then he was pushing her up the bed, his dick sliding 

into her warmth. He felt even more enormous than usual, and so, so hot that she 

could only gasp and clutch him as her body continued to jerk with her juices flow- 

ing out. 

Staffan started ramming into her. His movements started at a controlled 

leisurely pace but when she raked her nails on his back with a gasp, her back arch- 

ing to meet his thrusts, his movements soon became uncontrollable, his hips 

moving furiously over hers. 

“Please!” She held him more tightly to him, not knowing what she really was 

begging for. 

Staffan pulled out just to throw her legs over his shoulders and then he was 

shoving his dick into her again, the new position causing his dick to penetrate her 

even more deeply, its tip brushing against the mouth of her womb. 

“Oh God. Please!” 

He closed his eyes, shuddering at the sound of Saffi driven crazy with desire. 

Knowing that he was responsible for it pushed him closer to exploding, and he 

quickened his tempo, making sure to drive into her harder, faster, and deeper with 

each thrust. 

Her head lolled wildly. “Staffan, please!” 

“Fuck!” He came with a roar, his hips furiously pumping as he came, and Saffi 

screamed his name again, her body reaching its second climax. 

“God, baby.” Staffan was the first one to speak, his voice hoarse as he pressed 

a kiss to her hair. Doing so felt wrong and right, but right now he didn’t care. He 
just had the most fucking amazing night of his life and knowing that it was just the 

start was…mind-blowing. 

Saffi sighed as Staffan slowly rained kisses on her face, the touch of his lips 

brief and tender as it grazed her skin. “Staffan.” 

Her lilting voice curled around him like an embrace, and he closed his eyes, 

savoring the sound fully before forcing himself to move. He had this urge to pam- 

per Saffi, starting by cleaning her and then carrying her back to the living room 

where they could finally enjoy the dinner she had prepared. 

But Saffi seemed to have other plans. 

He chuckled when her arms and legs immediately tightened around him as she 

grumbled like a protesting child. If it was anyone else, he would have been irritated,

would have thought the woman clingy. 

However, the woman holding on to him so tightly wasn’t anyone else. This was 

Saffi March. His beautiful, charming H – H for hopeless liar. H for himmel. Min 

himmel. 

The enormity of how much she was beginning to mean to him struck Staffan 

like a lightning bolt, and the fear accompanying it left a bad taste on his mouth. 

Staffan’s arms tightened around Saffi instinctively as he fought off the fear. 

He would fix this so that everything would be good and safe between them. 

Whatever happened, he would do everything in his power to keep her with him. 

She had to stay. Goddammit, but she had to. Because right now he could no longer 

imagine what life would be without her.

Chapter Eight 

@starry_eyed4SA, Twitter: 

Quick question: What does MILF mean??? 

“No, we will not watch the video.” She was red-faced but adamant, just the 

thought of what Staffan was so innocently suggesting making her shudder in 

embarrassment. 

They were seated in the couch – or at least he was seated on the couch while 

Saffi was on his lap – with Staffan bare-chested while she wore his shirt. Between 

them, they shared a plate of steak and mashed potatoes. Despite his billion-dollar 

inheritance, Staffan actually had very simple tastes when it came to food, which 

Saffi knew would surprise his new fans. In fact, ordering his favorite dishes had 

been a breeze since everything he wanted was easily supplied by the extremely 

helpful kitchen staff. 

He feigned shock and incredulity. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, H.” 

She stammered, “I’m not. I’m just totally, umm, offended because it seems like 

you’re, umm, doubting my ability to look good in my own sex video. I mean, 

hello?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I didn’t do a lot of those.” 

He tried not to roll his eyes back, knowing it was yet another of her countless 

exaggerations. He really should force the truth out of her, Staffan thought idly. But-- 

-she was so obviously having fun with it. And if he had to be honest, he was having 

fun torturing her about it, too. Surely allowing Saffi’s little disguise to continue 

wouldn’t be of any harm to anyone. 

Tucking an errant lock of her hair behind her ear, he asked instead, “What kind 

of movie did you prepare for us?” 

The look in her eyes and the way she froze made him smile. This, he was sure, 

would be interesting again. 

“You know, since we already did, umm, our own porn, maybe we should watch 

another---” 

“H.” 

She bit her lip. 

“What was it we were supposed to watch?” 

“Umm, you said you wanted something you surely hadn’t watched before.” 

He looked at her musingly. Since this was Saffi, whatever her idea for impres- 

sive porn would be...different. “Is it hentai?” 

She shook her head. 

“Maybe something that involved MILF?” 

She shook her head again, trying not to make it obvious that she still had no 

idea what MILF meant. Maybe---Miss Ignorant Likes Fucking? 

Staffan frowned. “I give up. What is it?” 

She whispered, “I, umm, saw this video online, and it was the most popular 

video this week.” 

“Okay…” 

“It, umm, has lots of really beautiful girls.” 

He tipped her chin up. “Stop beating around the bush, H.” 

“It had a horse.” 

“So?” Then his eyes widened. “Fuck, H!” A choked laugh escaped him. “This 

was indeed very impressive.” 

She muttered, “But you sound more amused than impressed, though.” 

It was true, but she didn’t need to know that. It had been impressive in a way. 

Weird – but he was going to give her A for effort. 

“Are we really going to watch it?” She tried not to sound queasy at the thought. 

She had nothing against people who got off stuff like it, but it just wasn’t her thing. 

“Err, no.” He tried not to sound uncomfortable even though it was how he felt 

about the idea. After all, he had his own reputation to hold as well. 

“Then…what will we watch?” 

Just as he was about to answer, Staffan suddenly remembered the package he 

had taken home with him, something he had his PA track down the moment he 

realized he wouldn’t be able to get back to her on time. “I have something for you.” 

Saffi appeared surprised then hesitant. “For me?” 

“Yes.” He gently lifted her off his lap and placed her on the couch. “I’ll be right 

back.” 

Saffi said promptly, “I’ll be right back, too. I need to go to the bathroom.” 

They went their separate ways. She did her business as quickly as she could 
and on her way out she caught her reflection on the mirror. Oh my God – was that 

really her, Saffi March, wearing Staffan Aehrenthal’s shirt? 

Gah! 

It was so surreal she dashed to the bedroom, grabbed her phone and took a 

photo of herself. It was a photo that she’d never let anyone see. She just wanted to 

have something tangible to hold on to when the weekend was over. 

When she went back to the living room, Staffan held a brown package in his 

hand. 

Saffi beamed, so happy that he wasn’t giving her clothes or jewelry she could 

have hugged him. If he had, it would have disappointed her a lot since those felt 

too impersonal for her. 

“What is it?” she asked as she took the package from him. She took her time 

taking the wrapping off. 

“You’ll see soon---” He grinned when she squeaked in excitement as the entire 

wrapping fell from her hands, revealing what was inside. 

“Oh. My. God.” She held the box like it was made of glass. 

“Does that mean you like it?” he asked casually even though he already knew 

she would probably think he was God for giving it to her. Those months of stalking 

– no, wait, he meant the months he had spent infrequently checking her Facebook 

and other online social accounts – had finally amounted to something. 

She slowly opened the miniature treasure chest, which had the words ‘eat me’ 

engraved on its tiny latch. It turned out to be a musical box, with an exquisitely 

carved replica of the very best scenes of Alice in Wonderland. And right at the cen- 

ter was Alice herself, dancing with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare. “Why did 

you give me something like this?” 

Staffan had a ready answer for that one since he was nothing but thorough. 

“You reminded me of the fictional character Alice. Sometimes, when you’re alone, 

you look like you think you’re in Wonderland.” 

She looked at him, and the stars were back in her eyes. Again. 

Fuck, he thought. But this time Staffan wasn’t sure if those stars terrified him 

because they were there or because he would really do something to get rid of 

them. 
Saffi said shakily, “I am in Wonderland.” It was such a mushy thing to say, but 

she just couldn’t help it. That was how she felt. She shyly went to Staffan and tip- 

toed to kiss his lips. “And you are the one that makes my world wonder---” 

Whatever she had to say was lost in his kiss, and then he was carrying her back 

to the bedroom. They made love again, this time both of them taking it excruci- 

atingly slow, their bodies shuddering in pleasure as they came at the same time, 

Saffi’s cries swallowed by his hungry kiss.

Afterwards, they talked, about anything and everything, and when she couldn’t 

help it anymore she said, “Can I ask you something?” 

“No.” 

She persisted, “I just want to know---” 

“No.” 

Her face fell. 

Staffan sighed, unable to resist Saffi when she was looking at him again with 

those sad puppy eyes of hers. “What is it?” 

“You’ll really never sing for free?” Saffi instinctively knew it wasn’t just because 

of the money, and those same instincts told her it was something she had to know. 

Staffan became quiet for a long time, and Saffi tried not to squirm. When she 

couldn’t bear it any longer, she blurted out, “I put my foot in my mouth again, 

didn’t I?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my busi- 

ness---” 

“Sssh.” 

She shut up. 

“I’ve never told this to anyone.” 

Her eyes widened. 

“When Chloe and I broke up, we had a major fight – and we said things just to 

hurt the other.” 

She had a very bad feeling about this all of a sudden. “Staffan---” 

“She told me that on her birthday, when she asked me to sing in her party, she 

slipped out to meet with her lover and fucked him while I entertained her guests 

like a goddamn fool.” He looked down at her. “So now you know.” 

Her eyes filled up with tears. “I wish I didn’t.” 

His lips twisted. “Not the strong smart man you thought I was, is that it?” 

She hurriedly shook her head. “Worse. You’re so much more wonderful---” 

Unable to bear the stars in her eyes because he knew he didn’t deserve it, 

Staffan cut her words off with another kiss. 

Saffi closed her eyes. It was about to be wonderful again. 

~~~ 

When Saffi woke up, early morning sunlight had strayed into the room. She 

stayed in the circle of Staffan’s arms, allowing herself just a few precious moments 

of enjoying the sight of his sleeping face, which looked younger with the frown 

lines smoothed out. It made her think how so seldom she caught him smiling, 

much less laughing. In fact, the only times he did so was when she had done 

something frightfully foolish or unfortunately awkward. 

She glanced at the clock, saw it was seven in the morning and knew it was time 

to get up. She wanted to do what she could to help with the concert. 

Saffi had only been a few minutes into her shower when she heard the door 

sliding open. She gasped in surprise and then gasped again when a naked Staffan 

joined her inside, his hands immediately caressing her body possessively, cupping 

her breasts, smoothing past her tummy, and shaping her legs. 

He turned her around without a word, their lips meeting in a kiss she was al- 

ready whimpering for. “Good morning,” he breathed against her lips. 

“Morning,” she whispered, her eyes dazed. She was in a shower with Staffan 

Aehrenthal. Oh, oh, please, my heart, please do be still. 

Saffi ran her hands over his chest and she was delighted when Staffan simply 

stood there, letting her do what she wished. She tweaked his nipples and was re- 

warded with his grunt of pleasure. His abs were hard as rock, an absolute delight 

to touch. When she reached for his dick, it just felt natural to kneel down, one hand 

cupping his balls and the other stroking him until he was fully erect and throbbing 

between her fingers. 

“Aaah.” He couldn’t stop the groan from coming out his mouth even if he tried, 

the sensation of Saffi taking him in her mouth too beautiful to keep silent. She 

sucked him like the born temptress that she was, with a mixture of innocence and 

passion. His fingers kneaded her scalp but when she sucked him harder, his fin- 
gers instinctively gripped her hair more tightly. 

Hearing the sounds of pleasure coming from Staffan was arousing, water no 

longer the only thing making her wet. She tried to take him in more deeply even 

though he was already so big his dick was forcing her lips to open more widely 

than ever. 

“I’m coming.” 

She squeezed his balls and sucked harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned as he came in her mouth, his dick going so deep 

into her throat Saffi almost choked. But she didn’t pull away, wanting to take it all 

in, needing to pleasure him in every way she could. 

When he was spent, she expected him to soften, but his dick was still 

distended and pulsing when he pulled away. “Your turn,” he growled and pulled 

her up and then flipping her around to push her to the wall. As her breasts flat- 

tened against the cold wet marble, he entered her from behind, eliciting a whimper 

from Saffi. 

He started to play with her breasts as he thrust in and out of her leisurely, mak- 

ing her pant in a mixture of frustration and feverish desire. “Please,” she begged. 

“Please what?” He circled his dick inside Saffi to drive her even wilder with 

want. 

She moaned. “Please, Staffan, please. Faster.” 

But perversely he slowed down even more, making her sob pleadingly, 

“Staffan!” 

He pulled out ever so slowly before slamming in hard, making her gasp as Saffi 

became flat against the wall again. “Like that?” 

“Yes!” It was all she could say, with her body trembling as she continued seeing 

stars. And then he was furiously thrusting in and out of her, his dick seeming to 

swell larger and hardening even more with every penetration. The slap of his balls 

against her wet skin was extremely erotic and she wriggled her hips against him, 

wanting more. 

His fingers bit into her hips as he shifted her position, and that small change 

allowed his dick to sink further into her moist depths. “Aaaaah.” She let out a long 

moan as his fingers found her clit. He started working on her clit in rhythm with 
his thrusts and her hips started to buck wildly against him. “Staffan, Staffan-- 

-Staffan!” 

She shattered around him, and he held her through the violent storm of her 

pleasure, biting her shoulder to intensify the sensation. She let out another keening 

cry, and it spurred Staffan to move faster, quick hard shoves until he was coming 

as well. 

Almost an hour later, finally done with shower and replete with a hearty break- 

fast, the two of them walked back into the stage area, with Staffan’s arm posses- 

sively curled around her waist. Everyone from the crew greeted them happily 

enough, their tones respectful but their eyes filled with curiosity. There were a few 

fangirls and groupies around as well. The Gs looked at her with good-natured envy 

while the fangirls obviously loathed her on sight. 

“Slut,” one of the fangirls hissed as Staffan and Saffi walked past.

Staffan stiffened. 

Not wanting Staffan to get mad at his fans – knowing how horrible that would 

be since she was also one of them – she pretended to play dumb and asked Staffan 

with feigned bemusement, “How did she know that?” 

Staffan forced himself to relax. “Maybe it has to do with the fact that you’re not 

wearing any underwear,” he whispered back. Even as he smiled at Saffi’s pre- 

dictable sound of distress, he was also giving Bob a look to make sure that there 

would not be a repeat of what had happened. Nobody fucking messed with what 

was his, and Saffi was definitely that, perhaps even the most important thing in his 

life right now. 

His bodyguard correctly interpreted his command, and Bob immediately turned 

around to instruct the rest of the security team how to handle this latest bout of 

trouble. 

The other bodyguards changed position, discreetly but effectively blocking the 

view of the other girls this time. They weren’t escorted out of the premises but they 

wouldn’t get anything out of being there either. It was the most devious of re- 

venges, which was exactly how Staffan wanted Bob to play it. 

The whole world might have forgotten that he was once born of the streets, but 

Staffan hadn’t. Before being the stepson of a billionaire, a rockstar famous around 
the globe, he had once been nothing---a hapless child forced to throw away his 

innocence and rely on a combination of bullish strength and cunning to survive. 

“Stop scowling at them.” 

He couldn’t help scowling at her this time. “Are you truly going to defend them 

after what they called you?” 

“I am a G.” 

He bit back a sharp retort, knowing it was better to keep pretending that he had 

believed in her disguise. 

“They were just carried away,” she said as she touched his arm in a soothing 

gesture. “They love you so much, you know. They’ll do anything for you.” 

“H…you are too fucking nice.” Staffan took a deep breath. 

She winced, realizing that Staffan was about to give her another long scolding. 

But before he could start, someone was calling his name and Saffi whirled around 

in relief. Saved by the---choreographer! 

Eddie waved at them frantically to come over.

Staffan grimaced. “I have to go. He’s always panicky during concert days.” He 

walked her to a vacant row of seats. “You’ll be okay here?” 

She nodded, admitting shyly, “I’m kinda excited to see you practice dancing.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing special.” 

Saffi gasped. “It is very special, excuse me!” 

He laughed at her defensive tone. “Okay, okay. Don’t fight me – for me.” 

She giggled, and he carried the sound of it in his heart as he went back to prac- 

tice. 

Staffan dancing on stage was already surreal, but seeing Staffan rehearsing, his 

body eventually becoming sleek with sweat, was even more so, like Saffi had been 

allowed a rare glimpse of heaven. And oh, oh, she would never get tired of seeing 

Staffan move! 

Two hours later, Eddie officially called for a break. Saffi smiled when she saw 

how more relaxed Eddie seemed, which meant the rehearsal had met his expec- 

tations. She started to stand when an excited voice called out Staffan’s name. This 

time, she didn’t welcome the sound at all. 

Saffi turned towards the sound and something inside her heart twisted painfully 
when she saw a lovely, dark-haired woman walk gracefully towards Staffan with an 

eager smile on her face. Who was she? Saffi had faithfully followed every media re- 

port on Staffan but she had never seen the older woman with him before. 

Staffan stiffened when he heard Yanna call his name. Fuck! He had still in- 

tended his plan to push through but not like this. Not with everyone around. 

Yanna finally reached him, and Staffan automatically kissed her on the cheek. 

She beat him to speaking, her eyes twinkling as she waved a folder in front of him. 

“I have the five best women here, Staffan! All you have to do is to choose who you 

want to date.” Then she wagged a finger at him. “But I know what happened last 

time and I don’t want it to happen in my watch so please – don’t make love to who- 

ever you’re going to choose?” 

Chapter Nine 

Facebook 

Saffi March commented on a photo posted by The Official Staffan Aehrenthal 

Stalker 

I really, really, really love this man. 

“There you are.” Saffi looked up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and then 

blinked several times when she realized who it belonged to. The tall dark-haired 

man standing before her was none other than Constantijin Kastein, once Nether- 

lands’ #1 playboy, a part of the Three Pussketeers and one of Staffan’s closest 

friends. 

Had she heard him right? Was he really looking for her? 

She hastily blinked back her tears and tried not to be so obvious as she wiped 

those that have already left a wet trail on her cheeks. “M-may I help you?” 

Someone had to tell her that groupies never spoke so politely, Constantijin thought 

as he gazed at the young girl that had Staffan all twisted up in knots. 

When Yanna had gone to the restroom before they went looking for Staffan, 

Constantijin had overheard several of his friend’s bodyguards talking among 

themselves in Swedish. It had been an interesting conversation, which revolved 

around a groupie called H and whom all of them held in affection. 

And on the way to the stage area, with Yanna having gone ahead of him be- 

cause she had been excited to show Staffan her personal picks, Constantijin had al- 

most bumped into a young girl who had run past him in tears. He had only caught 

a partial look of her face, but it was more than enough. She was without a doubt 

the girl Staffan had been stalking online for months---the girl Constantijin sus- 

pected had caught Staffan’s heart, and now his friend was doing his best to cut his 

heart out rather than give it to another woman. 

Constantijin had waited for Staffan to run after her. When it became clear that 

his friend wouldn’t do so, Constantijin had decided it was up to him to fix his 

friend’s mess before Staffan ended as miserable as he had been, when he had been 

similarly stupid and threw Yanna’s love back at her face. 

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. The girl’s doe-eyed looks made 
him feel like Staffan had beaten up a day-old puppy, tempting Constantijin to tell 

her that she was better off without his friend. 

“I think I’m in a better position to help you instead,” he said gently as he 

handed her his handkerchief. 

She shook her head. 

“Please. I insist.” 

“T-thanks.” The way “H” gave in so gracefully startled him. It began to dawn on 

him how she was the very opposite of Staffan, who was cruelty and rudeness per- 

sonified. Looking at her, Constantijin felt distinctly at a loss of what he should say. 

Friendship prevented him from sharing Staffan’s secrets without his friend’s per- 

mission but standing by and doing nothing, when the young girl in front him 

looked like she was broken, completely went against the grain for him. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” 

Saffi shook her head again. “I’m really quite all right. It’s just that the circum- 

stances earlier were rather…upsetting.” 

Somebody also had to tell her that groupies didn’t speak so formally, like a school 

teacher. 

Constantijin nodded solemnly. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “Are you 

part of the production team for Staffan’s concert?” 

“No, sir.” Saffi answered the question absently, her mind back on Staffan and 

the anonymous women he would date. Then she realized how she had answered 

Staffan’s friend and froze, her eyes immediately darting to her companion. Dear 

God, she hoped he’d think she was being provocative with her ‘sirs’. That would be 

a very G thing to do. It was better than the truth, which was that she had instinc- 

tively called him ‘sir’ because she had been raised that way. 

Constantijin again pretended not to notice her most recent slip even though he 

had the damnedest hard time trying not to grin. He was beginning to understand 

why Staffan appeared so enamored with this girl. “Are you working here then?” 

“I’m one of Staffan’s groupies.” To improve her disguise, Saffi dug inside her 

pocket for a gum and quickly popped into her mouth. Pride filled her when she was 

able to blow it out carefully. 

Another thing she had to know that groupies did not blow bubbles like it was a 
matter of life and death, Constantijin thought, having an even harder time keeping 

his lips from twitching. And that gum-popping groupies were a cliché. 

He cleared his throat. “Forgive me for asking, but are you crying because of 

something Staffan did?” 

“No, of course not!” 

The quickness and sincerity of the reply impressed him. He said quietly, “You 

seem like a nice girl so I’ll tell you a secret.” 

She nodded, wide-eyed. 

“Everyone knows that Staffan had it pretty rough when he broke up with Chloe. 

It changed him, made him unwilling to trust any woman again.” He paused. “He’d 

do everything not to be in a position of being in danger of being hurt again---even if 

it meant hurting people he doesn’t want to hurt. Even if it means hurting himself in 

the process as well.” 

Saffi’s heart started to beat fast as she took in what Constantijin had said. “Why 

are you telling me this?” 

He smiled. 

Oh wow. The smile was so blindingly beautiful it left her blinking. Now she saw 

why millions of women went gaga over him. 

“I just like tormenting him and you look like you can be a thorn in his side.” 

~~~ 

“There you are,” Bob said a few minutes after Constantijin Kastein had left. She 

stood in the middle of the bonsai garden, which was part of the on-site attractions 

of the concert venue, contemplating Constantijin’s words. 

“I was looking for you for a long time, you know.” Bob sounded extremely rue- 

ful as he stopped a few feet from her. That was also the second time someone had 

told her that. “We were worried about you.” 

She didn’t know what to make of that. “You make it sound like everyone’s look- 

ing for me.” 

“They are.” 

She gaped at him. “B-but why?” 

Bob looked pained. “What did you expect, H? That the boss wouldn’t care 

when you left the place in tears?” 

Saffi admitted in a small voice, “I didn’t think he’d notice.” 

“He did.” 

She drew a shaky breath in. “Why didn’t he come after me?” 

Bob avoided her gaze. “The advertisers he’s supposed to meet came right after 

Ms. Yanna so he had to take care of them first.” 

It was an alibi of course - a very lame one - and both of them knew it. Staffan 

Aehrenthal was a law unto himself, and he definitely was the type to have 

advertisers waiting if there was something else he prioritized over meeting with 

them. 

But he didn’t, which was why Bob was here and Staffan wasn’t. 

She did her best to push the thought away and used Constantijin’s words as a 

source of comfort. This was Staffan pushing her away. It was supposed to be a 

good thing. 

“I understand.” Saffi forced a smile, more for Bob’s sake, who was trapped be- 

tween a rock and a hard place. And that would be what? Staffan’s inability to love 

and her very obvious infatuation? 

Bob said awkwardly, “He’s left explicit instructions that you join him the mo- 

ment anyone found you.” He looked at her steadily. “Do you want to? I won’t force 

you to go if you don’t feel like it.” 

Saffi squared her shoulders. “I’ll go.” 

She thought about Constantijin’s words again as she followed Bob out of the 

bonsai garden. He wanted to push her away, and ironically Saffi knew that his de- 

sire to do so also proved that he saw her more than just an ordinary G. Perhaps – 

more than any other girl in his life, enough to fall in love with her? 

Chains of doubt wrapped around her heart, tightening painfully. This weekend 

was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be her one last fling before embracing 

fully whatever life and duty brought her. But it hadn’t become just a fun weekend. It 

had become a lot more than that. Staffan was no longer just the gorgeous rockstar 

with the divine taste in clothes that she had looked up to for so many years, the 

one whose lyrics reached out to her and healed her all the times she felt alone and 

misunderstood. 

Now, Staffan was… 

More. 

She needed to take a chance on Staffan, needed to show him that things be- 

tween them could be way better than how things were between him and Chloe. But 

first she needed a sign. If he showed that he cared for her, even if it was just a little 

bit more than what he typically felt for Gs, Saffi decided she would take it as a sign. 

If Staffan treated her like she was different from the rest then she would fight for 

him. 

~~~ 

Relief hit Staffan like a tidal wave when the door opened and Bob came in,

followed by a quiet-looking Saffi. There was no other or better word, and it troubled 

him, making him clench his fists at his sides in an effort to keep him from walking 

to her and taking Saffi to his arms. He had to be strong about this. He was doing 

what was right for both of them. 

Staffan expected Saffi to sit at the back, with the rest of his management team, 

while he continued the negotiations with Yanna and Constantijin next to him while 

the advertising representatives sat opposite him, one who was gay and the other a 

female shark. But what she did instead was take a seat next to him, gracefully 

pulling the chair back and sliding onto it like a princess. For some reason, it made 

Staffan fucking proud of her, and it was all he could do not to take her lips with a 

kiss. But he didn’t. It would create a different impression than what he had in mind 

for Saffi, an impression that she had already challenged by sitting next to him. 

The advertising representatives had stopped talking when Saffi positioned her- 

self next to him. Consternation flashed on their faces when Staffan didn’t make any 

explanation and instead curled a casually possessive arm around her waist. Saffi 

knew it wasn’t exactly a show of support, but she’d take it. 

“Garth Greene,” the guy opposite them said immediately with an easy smile, 

offering his hand. 

Saffi took it with a grateful smile. “I’m…H.” 

Staffan tried not to roll his eyes. 

When Saffi glanced at the woman seated next to Garth, she got a dismissive 

head-to-toe look. “Sadie,” the other woman said reluctantly, as if the seconds she 

spent talking to Saffi was a huge waste of her time. She turned to Staffan immedi- 
ately, and her face changed with it, a flirtatious smile on her lips as she said, “If I 

may continue?” 

Saffi blurted out, “Could you repeat what you’ve discussed so far?” The way all 

eyes swung to her incredulously made Saffi want to shrink back, but she didn’t 

back down. To give herself a boost of confidence – however fake –she popped an- 

other piece of gum into her mouth even though she was already chewing on one. 

Sadie gaped. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m his number one fan,” Saffi said lamely as she wrung her hands on her lap 

until her knuckles went white. “I may have a lot to contribute to this project.” 

“Oh, really?” Derision underlined Sadie’s words. “I think you flatter yourself by 

thinking in those terms.” And the way she looked at Saffi made no secret of what 

she believed Saffi was, especially as her gaze lingered on the expansive amount of 

skin that her dress exposed. 

Saffi did her best not to flush at the pointed barb, but she was even more deter- 

mined not to back down. Staffan was going to date another woman. Worse, Staffan 

had a reputation of dating anyone he “hand selected”. Saffi had to have a say about 

it, selfish or not, right or not. 

As she opened her mouth to argue some more, she heard Staffan say, “Start 

again, Garth.” 

Sadie’s indignant gasp pierced the silence that followed but other than that no 

one else reacted. Even Sadie didn’t say anything else after that, her lips tightening 

as she nodded to her partner, clearly too furious to speak. 

Garth immediately stepped in, professional smile in place. In a voice that didn’t 

betray any of his thoughts or feelings, he concisely explained what his company 

wanted from Staffan. 

“After you make your choice, we’d like you to enjoy just a short break – maybe 

coffee or dessert – with all five of them.” 

Saffi swallowed back a protest. Staffan, surrounded with five supposedly 

beautiful women and all of them happened to adore him? The thought of it was 

enough for her stomach to heave in jealousy. 

Staffan nodded, encouraging Garth to continue. Beside him, Saffi was now 

seated very correctly, her tension palpable. If it was the other way around, he knew 
he would not have been able to take it. In fact, the mere prospect of Saffi being with 

another man was despicable, and Staffan knew he’d kill any man who dared touch 

Saffi in any way. 

But he had to do this. It was better for both of them this way. 

“After the meet and greet, you will then walk the winner around the venue, just 

give her a really simple tour to explain the behind-the-scene process for concert 

productions.” 

Her back straightened, her mind tortured by images of something nasty hap- 

pening behind the scenes. 

Garth cleared his throat. “We would like a photo of you and the winner ex- 

tremely close in this one.” 

Staffan started to speak, but Saffi was already shaking her head. “That’s not 

good.” 

“And then perhaps backstage, literally behind the curtains, a kiss on the 

cheek---” 

“But what if the winner gets carried away and rapes Staffan?” Saffi cried out, 

distress finally winning over common sense. 

Staffan choked. Behind him, he heard Constantijin and Yanna not doing that 

good a job at smothering their laughter. 

“I’ll, err, make sure he won’t be harmed,” Garth said, visibly bemused at the 

turn the conversation had taken. He glanced at Staffan almost pleadingly. “Shall I 

continue?” 

Staffan nodded. 

Clearing his throat once more, Garth went on, “And after one of your numbers, 

maybe another photo to show that the winner’s caring for you some way, like wip- 

ing the sweat off your face or giving you a bottle of water to drink---” 

Saffi didn’t even hesitate. “Sorry, that’s my job. I’m the official water girl and, 

umm, sweat-wiper of Staffan Aehrenthal. It says so in my resume.” Behind her, 

Saffi could hear Constantijin and his lovely girlfriend coughing again, which she 

supposed was their best attempt at hiding their laughter. 

Staffan’s head lowered slightly. He couldn’t help it. He needed to hide the fact 

that his eyes were gleaming with laughter. Ah, Saffi. What am I going to do with you? 
This was supposed to be a serious attempt to introduce Saffi to the role he wanted 

her to play in his life, one that was completely dictated by his terms. But somehow 

she had ended turning it into a farce that literally tempted him to laugh out loud 

the whole time. 

Not looking at Saffi’s way, Garth said quickly, as if simply wanting to get his 

presentation over with, “And lastly, we’d like you to pick her from the audience and 

dance with her---” 

“NO!” Saffi found herself on her feet as her heart jumped to her throat. Did this 

man know what he was suggesting – and in her presence no less? “Over my dead 

body!” 

Sadie jumped to her feet as well, surprising everyone. “Why the hell do you 

keep butting in when this isn’t about you? You’re just his whore!” 

Staffan jerked, the silence only broken by Yanna’s gasp of dismay. 

Everything in him wanted to lash out at the other woman for daring to call Saffi 

that, but he forced himself to remain unmoving, his face unreadable as he waited 

for what would Saffi say. He needed to see how this would play out, needed to 

know how Saffi saw herself in his life. 

Yanna couldn’t believe that Staffan was letting it go just like that. She turned to 

Constantijin in confusion, hurting for Saffi, but he shook his head at her, his hand- 

some face grim. 

Saffi waited for another moment, willing Staffan to do anything – say anything 

just to let her know that he didn’t think like that, too. But he didn’t say a word and 

he didn’t even glance her way. 

This was Staffan pushing her away, she reminded herself. It was a good thing. A 

GOOD THING. She repeated the words over and over in her mind until she got 

herself backing in control. Forcing herself to meet the other woman’s gaze, Saffi 

said softly, “I can’t be his whore when everything I give to him, I give freely.” 

Sadie’s face became mottled with rage at the younger girl’s dignified snub. 

“Fine,” she gritted out, wanting to lash back in any way she could, “You’re not his 

whore then. You’re just his slut.”The tense heartbreaking silence that followed cre- 

ated inaudible echoes of Sadie’s last word as it replayed in everyone’s mind. 

The look of triumph on Sadie’s face was a revolting sight, but Yanna forgot 
about it when she saw how broken Saffi looked. And she looked so unbearably 

young. Yanna knew the other girl was a post-graduate student, but right now, she 

didn’t look like a day over eighteen, and it cut her deep to see such a nice girl hurt 

so cruelly. 

For Saffi, Sadie’s insult was so much worse. The words were not only some- 

thing she could hear but something she could feel, all the way to her bones, crush- 

ing every hope she had for her and Staffan the longer the silence continued without 

Staffan speaking. 

When it became too much, she unconsciously fumbled for another piece of 

gum from her pocket. There was one last piece and she popped it into her mouth 

like it was the only thing that could save her from dying. This gum was her life- 

saver, the one that turned “H” as a shield and kept Saffi from getting hurt. 

He was pushing her away. 

This time, Constantijin’s warning wasn’t enough to heal the hurt. 

She tried again. He had his reputation to take care of. He was worried about what 

the fans would say. Saffi could easily come up with a hundred reasons why Staffan 

was right in staying out of the word war between her and Sadie, and she welcomed 

them all. She would believe in anything except the fact that Staffan didn’t care for 

her at all. 

Saffi snapped her gum, taking pleasure in the way it made Sadie grit her teeth. If 

chewing gum for eternity would cause the other woman to lose all her teeth, Saffi 

would have done it. 

Chew. Snap. Pop. 

Sadie looked like she had just heard the sound of shattering glass – in speak- 

ers. 

“Cheap, shallow, no-good slut,” Sadie sneered. 

“I guess I am a slut.” As Sadie started to laugh, Saffi added quietly, “And you 

can’t make me feel ashamed about it because there’s nothing more beautiful for 

me in this world than being in Staffan’s arms and giving him pleasure.” 

When the younger girl looked at her, head inclined to the side, gazing at Sadie 

as if she was a strange and disgusting insect, her calm tone saying without words 

how she wouldn’t stoop to Sadie’s level even though her barb was below the belt--- 
Sadie knew she had lost. 

This was no ordinary groupie in front of her – if she even was one from the 

start. 

This girl, young as she was, was every inch a fucking lady, too beautiful and too 

kind for someone like Sadie to ever bring down. Sadie had a feeling that not even 

the world’s most evil bitch could take this girl down. The only thing – the only per- 

son – who could make this girl beg was the same person that had put those fuck- 

ing stars in her eyes. 

Saffi heard Staffan move, pushing his chair away as he got to his feet. 

All her bravado suddenly left her. 

Oh dear Lord, what had she said? That was not at all the way groupies spoke. 

She had been too emotional, and Staffan didn’t do emotion – not after what Chloe 

had done to him. Was Staffan going to tell her it was over then? Unable to bear the 

thought of Staffan breaking things off with her in front of everyone, Saffi mumbled 

an incoherent excuse before running away. 

Staffan couldn’t breathe as he watched Saffi run away, fear of the way she was 

breaking the barriers around her heart freezing his limbs. In fact, he hadn’t really 

been breathing ever since he heard Saffi say the sweetest thing anyone had ever 

said to him in his life.

A thousand things went through his mind in that second, and all of those 

thoughts were brought out by fear. He was fucking paralyzed by it. 

Not again. 

Goddammit – he didn’t want to open himself to hurt again. But that was exactly 

what Saffi was forcing him to do with every little thing she said or did. 

“Staffan.” Constantijin’s voice was hard. “If you’re not going after her now, it 

will be over between you.” 

He turned to his friend clumsily. “I know that.” Yanna, he saw, was crying. His 

heart clenched. If Yanna felt bad enough to cry, how much worse was it for his 

Saffi? 

His heart clenched harder at how his unconscious had been calling her his all 

along. 

His Saffi. 
But she wouldn’t be like that for long if he didn’t go after her now. 

Staffan broke into a run. 

Ah Saffi March. You really are good for my heart. 

And this time Staffan acknowledged that it wasn’t just because she gave him a 

fucking cardio workout practically every day.

Chapter Ten 

To: admin@staffanaehrenthalofficialfanclub.com 

Subject: Membership updates 

5 new members, 1 unsubscribed 

Saffi March stated (none) as reason for leaving 

It took a while for Saffi to find her way out of the venue, with her tears blinding 

her and her mind numb with pain and heartbreak. 

She needed some time on her own, just so she could get her wits back and fig- 

ure things out. That Staffan hadn’t said anything – anything at all –had hurt, but if 

she was honest – it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Constantijin Kastein had warned 

her, after all. 

But God – how far did Staffan intend to push her away before he’d finally real- 

ize she wasn’t going anywhere without him? She wiped the tears away from her 

eyes, wishing for a moment she really was a G – one who didn’t give a shit about 

what other people thought, didn’t get into stupid fights with advertisers, and – 

most importantly of all – one who cared more for Staffan’s dick than his heart. 

Saffi finally found her way to the parking lot at the back. The street across it 

would be her easiest way to get a cab. She’d go back to the hotel and stay there 

until it was time to watch the concert. She shouldn’t be here while Staffan had his 

stupid date with another fangirl. 

The thought made her stumble, and tears flooded her eyes once more. Gs don’t 

cry, she reminded herself sternly. She had to get a better hold of herself if she want- 

ed what little of the weekend was left to be perfect. 

I’m going back to the hotel, have a nice beauty sleep, and when I wake up every- 

thing will be good again, Saffi told herself with a firm nod. Or at least that was the 

plan until she heard Alan Carson’s pain-threaded voice from the edge of the park- 

ing lot, followed by the unmistakable sound of punches being thrown. 

Saffi detoured, following the sound. She swallowed back a gasp at the sight of 

Alan being thrown to the ground as his heavyset father, Andrew, loomed over him. 

His jowls shook as he raged, “Are you a fucking faggot or what? Answer me!” 

Andrew kicked his son with such force that Saffi was sure he must have broken 
Alan’s ribs. 

“I’m not,” Alan groaned out, white-faced with pain. 

“If I fucking find out who’s made you into a goddamn fag, I’ll kill him. I’ll have 

him cut into pieces and burn them one by one in front of you.” 

Looking at Alan, Saffi knew the fear in his eyes wasn’t for himself. It was for 

Donovan. 

Unable to bear standing aside and just do nothing, Saffi ran to them, in time to 

receive the full brunt of Andrew’s kick as she threw herself over Alan. She whim- 

pered at the pain, never being physically hurt this much. She had a feeling that kick 

had broken at least one rib, and for a moment the world swam around her. 

“What the fuck?” Andrew gripped her shoulder hard, enough to make her gasp 

at the added pain. He forced her to turn around, stumbling back with an aston- 

ished scowl. “Sapphire March?” 

She could fear Alan stiffening behind her and she blindly fumbled for his hand, 

squeezing it for reassurance. The action attracted Andrew’s attention. His nar- 

rowed-eyed look gave Saffi an idea and when he looked back at her, she knew what 

to do. 

“Please don’t hurt him anymore, Mr. Carson,” she whispered. She was not an 

exceptionally good actress, but she also knew how people saw her – especially peo- 

ple who had been around her all her life. Andrew was one of those people, and he 

had been like everyone outside her family, thinking she was too smart for her own 

good, too weird, and too naïve – someone who just didn’t have it in her to lie. 

“What’s it to you?” Andrew barked, but Saffi saw his gaze had already turned 

calculating. 

Good. 

“I’m the one he’s keeping a secret, Mr. Carson. He thinks you won’t approve of 

me.” Behind her, she felt Alan stiffening again, but she squeezed his hand harder, 

willing him to trust her. When Saffi looked back at Alan’s father, the look on his 

face told her he was busily weighing the pros and cons of what she had said. 

Which could be worse---a fag for a son or a weirdo for a potential daughter- 

in-law? 

When a hard glitter entered his eyes, Saffi knew Andrew had made his choice. 
She might be the weirdest girl in their hometown, but she was also a senator’s 

daughter, one who could help him win his own bid in Congress. 

“This could have all been avoided if you told me the truth, son,” Andrew said. 

Saffi squeezed Alan’s hand again, silently begging him to play along. 

Alan coughed out blood as he pushed himself up from the ground. Saffi 

immediately crawled to crouch behind him so she could assist him. “I…didn’t 

think you’d approve.” 

“Of course I’d approve.” Andrew smiled at Saffi. “She’s a good girl, whatever 

garbage people have been saying about her all these years.” He frowned. “What are 

you doing here anyway?” 

“It’s my first time to tour with him.” The lie slipped out of her easily enough. 

Andrew’s face cleared. “Do your parents know about the two of you?” 

She shook her head. “I didn’t want to tell them…I thought nothing would come 

out of it.” 

Alan was finally up on a sitting position, but he still had to lean against her, his 

arm wrapped around his sides as if his ribs needed support. The silence that hung 

in the air became tense all of a sudden, and Saffi knew Andrew was waiting for an- 

other sign that they were indeed together. 

She turned to Alan. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Saffi whispered. 

His eyes widened. 

She lowered her lips to his. 

And it was how Staffan found them, breaking into a dead stop a short distance 

away when he caught sight of Saffi’s familiar figure. 

Words from long ago played in his mind. 

I’ve played you for a fool so many times I’ve lost count, darling. And you know 

what? You’ll let me do the same thing again. You’ll let other women do it again. Be- 

cause you’re weak – weaker than any man I know. 

And he fucking was – but never again. 

This was the last goddamn straw, and it felt even worse than Chloe’s ultimate 

betrayal. 

Ah, Saffi March. 

Goddamn you to hell. 

~~~ 

Alan remained quiet even though his father had long left, his arm still around 

her shoulders while she supported carefully with her arm around his waist. Saffi’s 

side was blazing with pain, but she knew that Alan was hurting even more. She did 

her best to help him up to his feet, biting her lip to keep from crying out when Alan 

leaned against her rather heavily as he strove for balance. 

Without waiting for his permission she immediately called Bob to tell him that 

Alan wouldn’t be able to dance for tonight’s concert – and maybe for the rest of the 

week. When she finished the call, he said abruptly, “Let’s go back.” 

When he turned around, obviously intending to head back to the concert 

venue, a part of her wanted to leave him. If they went back, it would mean seeing 

Staffan again. But in the end, she went along, knowing that Alan needed her right 

now. She could always cry heartbroken tears later. 

“Are you okay?” she asked after a short while. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

The humiliation in his voice made Saffi’s eyes burn and she shook her head at 

him. “Of course I had to. I couldn’t just let him beat you up!” She bit her lip. “I 

could see that you had no intentions of fighting him.” 

“I feel ashamed.” Alan made the admission in a low whisper. “All my life I had a 

feeling he knew about who I am and he was just waiting for me to give him proof… 

so he could kill me.” 

The way Alan tonelessly uttered the words made her hug him. “Alan, you don’t 

need to let him hurt you like that. It’s not right.” 

He let out a bitter laugh. “Sapphire, not everything that’s right in this world is 

going to happen. If it did, then Staffan would have loved you back---” He broke off 

at the way Saffi paled. Alan cursed. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t listen to me.” 

She managed a smile. “It is true.” 

“No, fuck, it’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just bitter that I’m letting fear run---ruin---my 

life.” Alan raked a hand through his hair. “I envy you, Sapphire.” 

Her eyes widened. “What?” 

He nodded. “What you did – what you’re doing now, just to be with Staffan – 

I’ll never be able to do it.” 

Her head hung low. “I’m pretending to be a groupie, Alan. That’s nothing to be 

proud about.” 

Alan snorted. “It’s more than that. You’re taking a risk for the man you love – 

the most awful and stupidest risk, I grant you that---” 

His words got a smile out of her. 

“---but I have to say it, babe, you’ve got balls. More so than most men I know.” 

She giggled, and the sound startled her because a while ago she had felt her 

world had already ended. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. Alan 

was right. She had taken a risk. And she would keep taking those risks as long as 

there was a hope of getting Staffan to love her back. 

She squeezed his hand. “Alan, thanks for those words. I was…depressed a 

while ago but you made me see the brighter side of things.” 

“That’s what gay friends are for.” 

They both laughed. 

Alan sobered. “But Sapph? I did hear before that you were getting engaged…” 

Saffi paled. “It’s not official, but I did say ‘yes’. If everyone thinks it’s a good 

idea…” She looked down. “I just want a chance to make back for what happened---” 

“It wasn’t your fault!” 

“It would have been better if I really was as crazy as everyone I thought I was 

back then. At least if I was crazy I wouldn’t have known how awful it was for my 

family when they saw that video--–then everyone was talking about me afterwards, 

and the controversies, the scandals that followed---I’m the reason my dad lost that 

time.” 

“It was a cruel prank, but it wasn’t the truth,” Alan protested vehemently. “We 

were directly or indirectly cruel to you, and we are the ones to blame. We caused 

your dad to lose---” 

“It hurt them a lot, Alan, and I just want to do something to make that hurt go. 

Getting engaged to Jeremy Raybourne would make that happen, and I was all for 

that until…this.” 

“If Staffan is in love with you---” 

She said very simply, “I’m his.” 

But it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

When they reached the concert venue, screams greeted them. The number of 

fans lined up for the concert had grown exponentially since Saffi had left, with the 

entire lobby already packed. And right in the middle of it was a makeshift stage, 

with a beautiful, sexy and devilishly smiling Staffan surrounded by five sexy and 

exquisitely pretty girls. 

She felt herself turning white as Staffan locked gazes with hers – just before he 

kissed each girl one at a time. But when he reached the last one, he didn’t bend 

down. He took her hand instead. 

No! 

Saffi could see herself in that girl. Physically, they didn’t have a thing in com- 

mon. The other girl was tall, blond, and blue eyed, with an engaging and confident 

smile. But her eyes were shining the way Saffi knew hers did. 

Staffan pulled the girl close for a scorching-hot open-mouthed kiss. 

No. 

No, please, no. 

But it wasn’t a dream. Or – it was a fangirl’s dream. It used to be her dream 

until she had fallen in love with Staffan. 

Saffi broke into a run when she saw Staffan leading the girl off the stage, leav- 

ing his fans screaming deliriously in his wake. She didn’t care who she was shov- 

ing out of her way. All she knew was that she had to get to him before he did some- 

thing they would both regret. 

“Staffan!” she screamed just as he walked towards the hall leading to his dress- 

ing room. She would die before she’d let them go in there together. She knew what 

could happen inside Staffan’s dressing room and she just couldn’t--- 

“Staffan, please!” 

Staffan stiffened at the broken sound of Saffi’s voice, but he forced himself to 

ignore it, telling himself it was all part of her act. 

“Staffan!” She sobbed his name out this time, willing herself to run faster but 

the few feet that separated them seemed like a huge gaping cliff that she could 

never cross – not without his help. Saffi knew Staffan had heard her but he still 

didn’t look her way. Instead, he nodded at his security personnel while talking to 

Bob, who immediately shook his head. 

Staffan spoke again, and this time Bob became stoic looking. 

“Staffan!” She was just a step away this time, and she reached out, her hand 

shaking, only to find the entire security force blocking her away, a grim-faced Bob 

appearing behind them. 

Saffi couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“Bob?” she asked shakily. 

“I’m sorry, H. The boss says you’re not to approach him while he’s…” He swal- 

lowed. 

“Bob, you must have misunderstood,” she whispered. “Please, Bob, I just need 

to talk to him.” 

He shook his head. 

“Bob, please.” 

“Don’t make me say it, H. Just let things lie low.” 

Dread skittered across her spine, but she still forced herself to meet Bob’s 

gaze. “Make you say what?” 

Bob was the first one to look away. “The boss says you can approach him if 

you’re willing to…” He suddenly cursed. “Don’t make me say it, H.” 

“Bob, please, I need to see him, I’ll do anything---” 

“He says you can get in but only if you’re willing to do it with him…and the 

other girl.” 

Her mind reeled, the vicious reality behind those words making her heart ache 

even worse than her broken ribs. This was a test. This was Staffan pushing her away. 

This was another risk she had to take. 

She closed her eyes, praying for strength, surrounding herself with the warmth 

of the memories she shared with Staffan. When she opened her eyes, she was able 

to smile at Bob. “Take me there then.” 

Bob cursed once more. “Are you serious? I’m not kidding---” 

“Neither am I,” she said firmly. When she’d get to his dressing room, Staffan 

would be waiting for her. He wouldn’t be doing anything to the girl. He would lis- 

ten to her, and everything would be all right again. 

Realizing that she was not going to budge on this, Bob reluctantly ordered his 

security team to let her through. “This is not going to go well, H,” he muttered as 
they entered the backstage area. He stopped walking when he noticed how much 

difficulty she had moving. “Are you okay?” 

She nodded, not knowing that her face had gone white with the pain she was 

forced to endure with every step she took. She supposed she needed to see a doc- 

tor right away, but this – what she could have with Staffan – was more important 

than a few broken ribs. 

“I just had a little accident. You know how clumsy I am,” she lied. 

Bob reluctantly resumed walking. “You will regret this, H. It’s not too late to 

turn back---” 

“It will be fine, Bob.” She added simply, “I love him.” 

Bob wanted to kill himself after that. “H, listen to me. This is not what you want 

to see. He’s in a black mood for some reason and---” 

They stopped in front of Staffan’s dressing room door. “Bob,” she said very 

softly, “Be honest with me. When you see Staffan and me together, did you ever 

think I was special to him?” 

The optimism shining in Saffi’s gaze was almost ethereal, and he mentally 

cursed his employer for doing something that was sure to take those stars out of 

Saffi’s eyes. This girl was special---in every way, a breath of fresh air that no evil 

could pollute. 

Unable to deny the truth, not when Saffi was looking at him so expectantly, Bob 

admitted grudgingly, “Yes, you do seem special to him.” He frowned then, adding 

warningly, “But tonight’s different. He’s gone crazy.” 

“He doesn’t want to get hurt again after what happened. I know that. We all 

know that, and I’m willing to wait until he’s ready to trust again.” She smiled at 

him. “Wish me luck?” 

“I’ll even give you my lifetime’s worth if it will help, H,” he said as he slowly 

opened the door. 

Taking a deep breath, she stepped past Bob. 

“Staffan---” Her voice broke down. 

No, please, no, this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. 

But it was. 

Staffan was only wearing his pants, his chest laid bare, shirt thrown on the 
floor---together with the rest of the other girl’s clothes. She was moaning softly in 

Staffan’s arms, obviously in the throes of pleasure as Staffan fucked her with his 

fingers. 

His head twisted over his shoulder, his smile blindingly beautiful but now it 

didn’t leave her warm. It made her cold instead, and she limped back from the 

sight of it, clutching her side as her entire body ached in pain at what he was doing. 

“Care to join us, H?” 

She shook her head wildly. “Stop it, Staffan---” To her surprise, he did stop, but 

when he turned around, Staffan slowly brought his wet fingers to his mouth and 

sucked them dry. 

Saffi moved another step back, her side hitting the door as she stumbled and 

twisted halfway to avoid looking at Staffan. She cried out, that split-second contact 

between the door and her ribs sending a wave of shattering pain to her body. Even 

so, it was nothing compared to the hurt that Staffan was inflicting on her – was still 

inflicting with every second he allowed the other girl to stay in the room with them. 

“What’s wrong, H? This should be normal procedure for you.” 

“No. It’s not. So stop it. Leave her.” She covered her face with her hands, not 

wanting to see anything. But Staffan was suddenly there, forcibly pulling her hands 

down. Eyes open again, she couldn’t help seeing him half naked---and seeing the 

other girl completely bare. 

“Pretending to be shy, baby?” he jeered, his skin crawling at utter loathing with 

how great an actress she was. How could he believe her hurt over what she had 

seen when she could do the same to him with Carson? 

“Staffan, I love you.” 

“I love you, too, baby, and I love her, too. We’re going to love each other so 

fucking hard tonight it will be a night you’ll never forget.” And then he was walking 

back to the other girl, leading her to the couch and pulling her down with him. She 

fell onto his lap with a giggle. 

Saffi covered her mouth as a silent scream of agony escaped her, and her body 

started to shake in bewildered pain and jealousy as Staffan, his gaze never leaving 

hers, started to play with the other woman’s flesh, fingers tracing the lines of her 

sex before sinking into her. 

The other girl’s moan was a knife into Saffi’s heart. 

“Stop this. I don’t care why you’re doing this but stop this, please---stop it this 

moment and I’ll forgive---” 

“Forgive?” Staffan repeated coolly. 

She froze at the strange note in his voice. It almost sounded like hatred. 

“You forgive? You’re forgetting yourself, H. You’re just my groupie --- a woman 

who’s proud to call herself my slut. There is nothing to---” 

She didn’t wait for what else he had to say, knowing that Staffan was right. Out- 

side, she pushed past a frowning Bob and an anxious-looking Alan, her heart so 

leaden with hurt she couldn’t even cry. 

She finally got what she wanted. 

She was no longer a fan girl but a bona fide, true blue, 100% genuine groupie.
Chapter Eleven 

@saffi_m, Twitter: 

@JRaybourne I miss you. 

The commotion outside his dressing room was fucking hard to ignore, but 

Staffan did his best – until he realized it wasn’t Saffi causing it but someone he 

wanted to beat into a bloody pulp. 

“Fuck you, Staffan Aehrenthal, come out and face me like a man!” 

It was the goddamn prick. Alan Carson. The man who took his Saffi away. 

He managed a smile for the girl he had taken to his dressing room, whose 

name he had already forgotten and whose touch still left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“I’m afraid there’s trouble outside. Would you do me a favor and stay here until I 

come back?” 

She nodded, stretching on the couch in an obvious attempt to seduce him. 

Staffan forced himself to keep a steady pace as he walked out of the room, but 

the moment he saw Alan Carson waiting for him at the hall, surrounded by the 

other backup dancers, Staffan immediately charged for him. 

One punch was enough to send Alan flying. 

The other man coughed out blood, and the sight was surprising enough to 

momentarily get rid of the rage-filled haze that blinded Staffan. He fucking hadn’t 

hit the other man that hard to have him coughing out blood, dammit. 

Even though he was near to exploding with the urge to kill the other man, 

Staffan clenched his fists in an effort to keep himself still. “There’s nothing we 

need to fucking fight about, Carson. I’m done with…” Saying her name – even if it 

was not her real one – was like acid on his tongue but he made himself speak. “I’m 

done with H. She’s all yours if you want my leftovers.” 

Staffan was stunned to see Carson turn almost purple in rage, launching him- 

self towards Staffan with a howl. Easily dodging Carson’s flailing fists – the fucking 

idiot hit like a girl –he use one quick upper cut to knock the man back to the 

ground. 

“OUT! Everyone fucking leave the two of us alone. Bob, guard the door!” 

Staffan kept his eyes on the groaning man on the ground. Another dancer –it was 
Bradley again – had knelt next to Carson, muttering something in an anxious tone. 

Something didn’t feel right about the two, but he was just too angry to care. 

When Bob saw the last man out before leaving the hall himself and closing the 

door behind him, Staffan looked back at Carson. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

It was difficult to look at the other man without wanting to beat the shit out of him. 

All he could see was Saffi kissing Carson, when he had also been in the ground. 

Staffan frowned at the memory, and the feeling that nothing was what it seemed 

became even stronger. A chill came over him, like someone walking – no, crying – 

over his grave. 

“How could you do that?” Alan asked bitterly, unable to keep his voice from 

shaking as he stared up at the man who Sapphire loved so much she had gambled 

her pride countless times for the right to be with him. 

Donovan shook his head. “Alan, don’t tell him anything---” 

Warning bells played in Staffan’s head and his fingers instinctively went up to 

rub his temples, as if it could ward off the pain he was sure would hit him in a 

while. 

“No, it’s not right that she’d be hurt this way again!” Alan tried to stand up on 

his own, but it was impossible. The beating he received from his own father, com- 

bined with Staffan’s punches, made every inch of his body scream with pain. But 

he knew that it would be nothing compared to how Sapphire must be feeling right 

now. 

Loathing rose inside him as he met the wary eyes of the hotshot rockstar before 

him. Alan used to think so highly of Staffan Aehrenthal, but this went beyond the 

pale. “She’s in love with you,” he spat. “You know that, don’t you?” 

Staffan’s face hardened. “Love me so much she couldn’t help kissing you ear- 

lier?” 

Donovan went white. “Shit.” 

Alan said the same thing in his mind, stunned at the implications of Staffan’s 

words. He had told Donovan what happened so he wasn’t worried about what his 

lover was thinking. But none of them had counted Staffan seeing the confrontation 

between him and his father, much less realize how Staffan could have misinter- 

preted everything so dreadfully. 

“It’s not what you think,” Alan said tiredly. Now, his head was hurting more 

than his body. What a bloody mess everything had turned out to be, and it was all 

because of the goddamn lie that he was living. 

Staffan cursed. “Do you take me for a fucking fool to think I’d believe you after 

what---” 

“What you saw,” Alan cut him off tersely, “was Sa---” 

Staffan had an insane impulse to punch Carson again and for the simple fact 

that he knew Saffi’s true name. 

Alan corrected himself, “What you saw was H saving my life.” 

“It just keeps getting better,” Staffan drawled out sarcastically. 

Alan gritted his teeth. “She was saving my life because she saw my father want- 

ing to kill me and did what she could to stop it.” He took a deep breath. “My father 

wanted to know if I’m gay.” 

Staffan went completely still, his agile mind able to connect the dots in a 

painfully quick sequence. Suddenly, everything that happened rearranged itself like 

puzzle pieces forming a new picture. 

“No,” he whispered. 

Alan took Donovan’s hands. “And I am. We both are. H agreed to keep it a se- 

cret, and when she saw what was happening earlier---she pretended she was my 

girlfriend.” 

Staffan bent his head as the enormity of what he had done crashed on him. Oh 

God. What the fuck had he done? Suddenly, all he could hear was Saffi calling his 

name, pleading him to stop, telling him she loved him. 

She had loved him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and now all he could see was the broken look in her 

face as he had forced her to watch him play with another woman. Something oc- 

curred to him, the odd way Saffi had held her body, and his head shot up as he de- 

manded hoarsely, “Saffi? Did she get hurt, too?” 

Alan flinched at the memory of his father’s kick landing on Saffi’s side and her 

cry of pain. 

The look in the other man’s face filled Staffan with a savage need to hit Car- 

son’s father, especially when Carson revealed, “She may have a broken rib or two.” 
He gazed at Bob and then the doorway leading to the stage, torn between his 

desire and duty. Finally, he told his bodyguard, “Find her. Do anything – everything 

– to find her.” Fear struck his heart at the thought of Saffi walking alone, hurt in 

every way. He would do everything to win her back, fucking beg on his knees, 

shave his head, and cut his hand if he had to. But first he needed to know she was 

safe and cared for. 

“She loved you, you know,” Carson said behind him.

The words whipped his heart because he knew he didn’t deserve them. 

Oh God, what had he done? 

An hour had passed and Saffi was still nowhere to be found. The heavy look on 

Bob’s face when he came back a few minutes ago was enough to tell Staffan that 

the other man’s search had been futile. 

Desperate and terrified that something had happened to Saffi, Staffan decided 

to end the ruse of not knowing who she was by calling her. Explanations could be 

made later – right now he needed to ensure that she was all right. 

“Come on, Saffi.” He waited tensely as he kept getting a busy signal from Saf- 

fi’s phone. A part of him knew it wouldn’t – couldn’t – be this easy to get a hold of 

Saffi again. Why should it be when God gave him his own angel - his very own 

Alice, who said her Wonderland was any place that had him in it – just for Staffan 

to fucking throw it away? 

Outside, the screams were getting louder and more frenzied. 

His PA said nervously, “Staffan, you have just a minute---” 

“I know that,” he gritted out. “Just give me that goddamn minute.” He redialed 

her number one last time, and his world shattered when an automated voice told 

him that the phone was out of coverage area. 

Staffan closed his eyes. 

Saffi. 

He saw her so vividly his heart stopped beating, and he had to deliberately stop 

his hands from reaching out to touch her. 

How could he have hurt her so goddamn much? 

~~~ 

Anorexic arrowana. Back-flipping bangus. Chocolate-loving cod. Drunk duck- 

bill. Epileptic eel. Farting frogfish. Goddamn giant sea bass. Heartbroken had- 

dock--- 

Saffi’s mind came into a painful standstill at the words, the game that she had 

loved playing with herself ever since she was a kid suddenly losing its ability to 

comfort her. All these years, her mind had been both her bane and her haven. It 

made Saffi different from the rest, but it also came up with the most astounding 

ways to protect herself from other people’s scorn and cruelty. 

But now even that was gone, Staffan taking away the one thing Saffi could al- 

ways count on to keep her sane.

Slowly, she bent her head down and cried. 

The sobs were quiet but heart-wrenching, the sounds paining everyone who 

heard it. And everyone in Steel March’s private flight crew did hear it and whole- 

heartedly hated whoever it was that had broken Saffi’s heart. 

When the plane started to descend, Saffi forced herself to stop crying, desper- 

ately wiping the tears away as she fixed herself. Any one of her family could be wait- 

ing for her, and she didn’t want any of them to see her this way. Saffi had caused 

them so much hurt already and it would kill her to turn them into a laughingstock 

once again. 

The entire crew discreetly kept their gazes off Saffi’s face as they bid her good- 

bye and escorted her of the plane. The person waiting for her at the foot of the 

wheeled staircase made Saffi catch her breath. 

Steel, thank you. 

Everyone thought she was the smartest one in the family, but she wasn’t. Saffi 

had always known the honor belonged to Steel, who never failed to be several steps 

ahead of everyone with his cunning ability to read and predict other people’s 

thoughts and actions. 

And because she was his baby sister, Steel had known how she would have 

hated any one of them – even Steel himself – see her like this. He probably knew it 

the moment she called him and said ‘hello’ in a tear-clogged voice. 

She reached the end of the steps and finally lifted her gaze. 

Looking back at her with unreadable eyes was a tall dark-haired man, his hand- 

some face showing no clue to his thoughts. His expensive black suit fit his lean 
hard body to perfection, and he wore it like he was born in it. And he was, in a way, 

for he was the bastard son of a prince. 

When Jeremy opened his arms, she didn’t hesitate at all. 

“It’s going to be okay, Saffi. I’m here now.” His lips touched her hair as she 

sobbed in his arms. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.” 
Chapter Twelve 

@staffan_aehrenthal, Twitter: 

It’s true. I’m taking a break after my US tour. And yes, it’s also true. I’m taken. 

Just two concerts left, Staffan told himself over three weeks later. Two more con- 

certs left and the US leg of his tour would finally end and he would be free to go to 

Saffi and beg her to take him back. 

His chest hurt. It always did every time he thought of Saffi in any way, the 

things he used to say or do to hurt her now shredding his own heart. 

A quiet knock sounded on his door before Bob walked in. The other man had 

resigned on the night Saffi left, but he had given in to Staffan’s quiet request to 

continue working for him when Staffan admitted that he had fucked up with Saffi 

and intended to have her back. 

Staffan’s smile twisted, remembering how Bob told him in angry disgust the 

way Saffi had pleaded to let her in and asked him with heartbreaking hope if he 

thought she and Staffan were “special” together. 

God. 

Special was such a weak word to describe the kind of girl Saffi was. There was 

no one in the world like her, and he would not stop at nothing to have a chance 

with her again. 

“The gym’s ready,” Bob said. 

“Thanks, Bob.” Nowadays, he worked out three times a day, not just to stay 

physically fit but also to keep himself from going insane at missing Saffi. Thoughts 

of Saffi, of how she was doing and if she would ever forgive him, kept him awake. 

But because he knew the people who paid to watch his concert deserved more 

from him, Staffan decided to use heavy workouts to literally knock him out in ex- 

haustion. It was that or take medications, but he didn’t want to risk doing some- 

thing like Spears on Valium on stage. 

The gym was completely empty by the time the elevator took him from the 

penthouse to the tenth floor. He nodded at Bob, and the other man immediately 

left him alone. He would stand outside to ensure that no one would interrupt while 

Staffan was inside. 

Staffan set his iPad on the stand while he configured the treadmill to an 8.0 

speed for a brisk walk. As he started to warm up, he unlocked his iPad, which then 

took him immediately to Saffi’s Facebook page. He refreshed it, but nothing new 

came up. It had been inactive ever since Saffi left him, and it was the same thing 

with all her online accounts. 

Could she have figured out that he knew H and Saffi were one and the same? 

Or was there a worse reason for this painfully empty silence? Every fiber of his 

being screamed at him to go after her, and goddammit he wanted to. He hadn’t 

fucking wanted anything so badly in his life. 

But a part of him remembered her words not so long ago. 

“I’ve decided to let you know that I am your greatest treasure, Staffan,” she had 

told him impishly that one night when he had given her the treasure chest and she 

so wanted to give him a gift in return. 

The impish smile had entranced him so much he had started taking off her 

clothes as he teased, “Really?” 

She giggled while trying to dodge his hands, which had already managed to 

unbutton half of his shirt off her. “Yup. Because I’m not just your G. I’m a half- 

breed.” 

He had raised a brow at that. “A half-breed?” 

“Yes, because I’m also one of your fangirls! And we fangirls always believe in 

you, always want you, always love you. So I don’t mind if you do stuff for fangirls. 

Just one small thing from you is a huge thing for us.” She paused, her worried eyes 

suddenly seeking him. “But just no kissing stuff, okay?” 

The memory sharpened the pain of loss inside him, honing it like the finest 

blade as it reminded Staffan how much he had lost the moment he pushed Saffi 

away. 

He closed the iPad and started to run. In his mind, he was running towards her, 

but she was always too far, always out of his reach. 

Saffi, Saffi, please, baby, please take me back. 

~~~ 

“You’re d-daydreaming again,” Mary told Saffi, startling the other girl. It was 

nine in the morning, and as Saturday mornings went, the library was blessedly 
empty and quiet, with only a bare handful of students turning in. She and Saffi 

loved going to the university library at times like this – or at least they used to. 

Now, Mary couldn’t help but think that Saffi might be feeling bored. 

Mary gazed at her mentor in concern. Saffi was normally very bubbly, some- 

thing that had surprised her at the start since the other girl looked so feminine – so 

like Mary, actually. But whereas Mary was really shy and soft-spoken---mostly be- 

cause she had a tendency to stammer when she was nervous---Saffi was quirky and 

fun once she was with people she was completely at ease with. 

But Saffi had changed, ever since she came back from Staffan Aehrenthal’s con- 

cert. In the past, Saffi used to have stars in her eyes every time she had something 

new to talk about her number one celebrity crush. 

Saffi straightened in her seat, blinking at Mary’s soft and bemused tone. She 

couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep in the middle of tutoring Mary. And it hap- 

pened to be about the most recently discovered fish species – another member of 

the Cyprinidae family, this time found in the streams of Turkey. Researching about 

new fish species was one of her favorite subjects in the world so Saffi herself had 

no idea how she could have fallen asleep just like that. 

“Are you okay, Saffi?” 

Saffi nodded. “I’m just…worried about my thesis---” She stopped when she 

heard Mary let out an uncharacteristic snort. Saffi smiled in spite of herself. “Did I 

just hear my super ladylike---” 

“Here,” Mary said, smiling back, relieved to see Saffi happy again, “I’ll do it 

again if you like.” And so she snorted another time. 

Saffi’s laughter had always been musical, unlike any other sound Mary had 

heard really. Perhaps what made it special was Saffi’s genuine love for life, her 

unique ability to seize every moment and turn it into something magical. But now 

Saffi’s beautiful laughter was tinged with melancholy. 

“Oh, Mary.” Saffi didn’t know if she wanted to laugh some more or start to cry. 

She felt like she was going to burst if she didn’t talk to someone and just get every- 

thing off her chest. “I’m scared.” 

“If it’s anything I can help you with, I will.” 

Saffi forced the words out. “I think…I think I’m pregnant.” 

And then everything came out. 

The talk helped Saffi a lot, enough to help clear her thoughts and do what she 

was supposed to do. She took out her phone. “Jeremy?” 

“It’s a wonderful surprise to hear your voice, Saffi.” 

The gentleness of Jeremy’s voice almost undid her. “Jeremy,” she whispered 

again. “We have to talk. Please come over today?” 

“Of course.” The swiftness and firmness of his reply slightly eased the pain 

inside her. “I’m on my way now.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Anything for you, Saffi.” 

After ending the call, she brought her hand to her chest and kept it there, using 

it to calm her suddenly racing heartbeat. What she was about to do might be irrev- 

ocable, but she had to be strong. She wasn’t going to be a fool the second time 

and make the same mistakes she did. 

This time she was going to be strong on her own, without needing anyone’s 

help. 

This time, she had finally grown up. 

~~~ 

Leaving the sounds of adulation behind him without a backward glance, Staffan 

nodded his thanks at Bob as the other man opened the door for him. His tour was 

finally over, giving him the long-anticipated opportunity to go after Saffi. 

Cold sweat bathed Staffan at the thought. Would she still take him back? The 

days that had separated them had been the severest agony, with every idle second 

spent torturing himself with thoughts of Saffi falling in love with the first nice guy 

she met back in university. Those guys, with their fucking PhDs, would no doubt 

treat her like the princess she was. And she would fall in love with one of them, 

how could she not when she only had his cruel and heartless ways to compare to? 

His heart flinched inside him at the thought of Saffi even holding another 

man’s hands. God.If just the thought of Saffi in another man’s company hurt, how 

much worse had it been for Saffi, with all those times he had forced her away? 

Staffan’s phone rang, Carson’s name flashing on the screen. The other man 

had felt responsible for what happened between Staffan and Saffi even though 
Staffan knew it was his own fault all along. No one had twisted his arm to act like a 

bastard with Saffi. That had been him and only him all along. 

“Hey.” Alan felt even more awkward these days whenever he had to speak with 

Staffan. He could see how staying apart from Saffi had taken its toll on the once 

invincible-looking rockstar. This wasn’t like how he had been when the Cougar had 

left. Then Staffan had simply been in a violent rage every day. But now…Staffan only 

came alive in front of his fans and after that, he simply lived for any news he could 

get of Saffi. 

The first time he had talked to Staffan, after a short uncomfortable phone call 

with Saffi, telling the other man that Saffi had been treated in the hospital for two 

broken ribs---Alan could still remember the way Staffan’s eyes had burned bright at 

the news, as if Alan’s words had given him permission to…breathe. 

“Do you have news of Saffi?” Staffan asked, his chest tightening in fear and an- 

ticipation of whatever Carson was about to say. 

“Uhh, yes. You see, lately she hasn’t been going to classes---” He stopped, feel- 

ing like he had somehow twisted a knife in Staffan so Alan backtracked quickly, say- 

ing, “Anyway, I have it in good authority that Saffi will be in uni tomorrow for an- 

other meeting with the first-year student she’s mentoring.” 

Saffi hadn’t been attending her classes---because of him. It was yet another sin 

laid on his soul. Could he ever fucking make it up to her? Staffan vividly remem- 

bered how she excitedly posted photos of one fish after another in her Instagram 

account, and each fucking fish didn’t have just a name – she even knew its family 

history, practically able to trace its genealogy to three generations back. If that 

didn’t spell passion for what she was doing, nothing else would. 

And Staffan had been the one to take it all away from her. 

He forced his attention back to Carson, who was now telling him about a 

potential ally in a girl named Mary. “Thank you for the information, Carson. It’s ex- 

tremely helpful.” The college Saffi attended wasn’t just exclusive, but it was also fa- 

mously tight-lipped, with even his most expert detectives unable to extract any kind 

of information about Saffi’s academic schedule. 

“So that’s it then.” Alan cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about what hap- 

pened---” 
“It’s not your fault. I was the one who fucked up.” 

Alan said heavily, “Good luck.” 

“Thank you.” 

After the call, Staffan reached for his iPad and checked her Facebook page 

again, out of habit and out of desperation. But this time what he saw made him 

cold with fear. 

No. 

He clicked the refresh icon again, hoping it was a glitch. But it wasn’t. He 

checked her other accounts and they were the same. 

Deactivated. 

It was like Saffi cutting him completely from her life forever. The iPad fell to the 

floor with a heavy thud as Staffan became numb with terror, realizing that this was 

how the rest of his life would feel if he didn’t have her back. 

Saffi. I’m so goddamn sorry, Saffi.

Chapter Thirteen 

@YannaEverleigh, Twitter: 

@staffan_aehrenthal is in luuuuuuuuuurv. 

150,000 retweets 

@ConstantijinKastein, Twitter: 

@YannaEverleigh I will try not to let him kill you, schat. 

@staffan_aehrenthal, Twitter: 

@YannaEverleigh @ConstantijinKastein Too late. 

“Are you excited about tonight’s fundraiser?” Mary asked her mentor and she 

put the last of her books back inside her bag. Today’s brainstorming session had 

proceeded much more smoothly than the last one, although she was more relieved 

for Saffi’s sake than hers. She had hated seeing the other girl so despondent. 

Thankfully, Saffi appeared a lot better now even though she was still painfully thin. 

“Yup.” Saffi uttered the lie without even blinking. She even managed a grin, 

knowing how the younger girl worried about her. Everyone was worrying about her. 

She hated herself for it, but somehow she couldn’t do anything about it either. 

When she realized Mary already had all her books cleared out, Staffi stood up 

quickly and froze right after, the world spinning around her. God. She felt so weak 

these days. 

Mary saw Saffi actually sway as she got to her feet. “Are you okay?” 

Saffi made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Don’t mind me. You know how 

clumsy I am. I just lost my balance for a sec.” 

Mary stood by the door, trying not to be so obvious with the way she gave Saffi 

a closer look while the other girl began putting back her own books in her satchel- 

styled bag. Sadness usually made people look ugly, but somehow it just enhanced 

Saffi’s beauty, making her appear frail and ethereal with the way her big blue eyes 

now seemed so much bigger and her cheeks more defined. Was Saffi aware of how 

she was driving every guy in school crazy crushing after her? In fact, the more Saffi 

ignored them, the more the guys seemed to want her. 

After slinging the strap of her bag over one shoulder, Saffi caught Mary staring. 

“What is it?” she asked, startled. “Do I have dirt on my face?” 

Mmm…probably not, Mary thought. Saffi had always appeared oblivious to her 

looks, sometimes acting as if she was the very opposite of attractive. But these 

days she wasn’t just oblivious. These days, Saffi actually looked like she couldn’t 

believe any guy could want her, which of course made every guy want to be the one 

to kiss her into realizing how beautiful and sexy she was. 

Mary shook her head, realizing that Saffi was still waiting for an answer. “I really 

can’t thank you enough for inviting me,” she said. 

Saffi grinned, and this time it was genuine. “I know I’m the one up for the nerdy 

award, but I’m pretty sure you’re even more excited I am because of a certain 

someone.” 

Mary’s eyes widened. “W-what are you saying?” 

Saffi groaned. “Hey! I didn’t mean to make you feel nervous! I’m sorry.” 

“I c-can’t b-believe y-you k-know a-about it.” Mary’s stammering worsened 

when she realized that Saffi did know about her secret. 

Saffi bit her lip hard, knowing it wouldn’t do the other girl any good to let her 

find out how horrible she was at keeping her secret. With the way Mary’s gaze con- 

stantly followed Professor Richard Byron whenever the two of them were in the 

same room, everyone in uni knew about the younger girl’s not-so-secret crush. 

“Any guy you’re crushing on should be flattered,” Saffi finally said, meaning it. 

“And if he’s not then he’s an idiot.” 

Mary blushed. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not you.” 

Saffi opened the door, gestured for Mary to precede her and switched the lights 

off before locking the door. She and Mary were pretty lucky that Professor 

Matthews had allowed them to use the classroom for their session. 

Outside, the two of them were immediately caught by a whirlwind of action, 

with students literally running and shoving their way past them. 

“What on earth is happening?” Saffi asked as she found herself twirling almost 

360 degrees back to where she started as countless screaming girls stampeded 

past them. The crowd’s excitement was contagious and Saffi couldn’t help grinning 

as she and Mary joined the chaos and allowed the tidal wave of people to sweep 

them away. 

It almost felt as thrilling as being in a concert of… 

No. She was not going to think about it. This was as thrilling as…as a Celsius 

concert. 

Saffi and Mary glanced at each other---and they simultaneously broke into gig- 

gles. “I almost feel cool because I’m a part of…of whatever this is,” Mary admitted 

with a wide smile.

“You are cool,” Saffi said then added, “But just imagine if this turns out to be a 

simple earthquake drill! Would that still make you feel cool?” Mary was still laugh- 

ing as they finally reached the main lobby of the building. As the crowd took them 

closer and closer to the main doors, Saffi realized that the girls around her were 

chanting something repeatedly. 

Mary’s eyes widened, her head snapping towards Saffi in shock as both of them 

realized what the deafening screams were all about. Mary saw Saffi’s face turn 

white, and she cried out in alarm. “Are you all right?” 

Saffi froze at the foot of the steps, causing the other students behind her to 

lose their balance. They cursed, shoved, and threw dirty looks at her but Saffi 

couldn’t make herself move, unable to believe what she was hearing the crowd 

chant. 

Staffan. Staffan. Staffan. 

Surely, this couldn’t be---but it was. Oh, dear voluptuous velvet-belly shark, it 

really was. Once, Saffi had dreamt about this – dreamt of being wooed by the man 

she loved in front of the entire school. It was the stuff romantic fantasies were 

made of. But now, it was a total nightmare. 

The crowd parted before Saffi like the Nile River. Her stomach churned painful- 

ly as her lowered gaze saw the most exquisite pair of shiny men’s leather shoes, 

and the churning sensation grew worse as the owner of those shoes began walking 

towards her. 

She couldn’t move, think, or even breathe. Was she going to faint in front of 

him? God, please no, let her not faint. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction 

of realizing how much he still affected her, didn’t want him to know how so easy he 

could make her his slut with just one--- 

“Hello, Saffi.” The sighs that went through the crowd as Staffan spoke were be- 

yond audible. It was practically tangible, accompanied as it was with a shared thrill 
of seeing the object of their long-time sexual affections in person, up close and 

personal. 

Her head shot up, just as one of the girls behind her muttered loudly, “I can’t 

believe he knows her.” 

Staffan was even more gorgeous than she remembered, with his hair beautifully 

wild, his hazel eyes dazzlingly bright, his chiseled face made even more jaw- 

droppingly handsome by the way his lips curved into a hesitant smile. He was also 

impeccably dressed. In fact, throughout the tour, the only time she had seen 

Staffan dress this fabulously was on stage. 

Mr. Rockstar Chic. 

He really was that. 

But for once, Saffi couldn’t care less about Staffan’s mesmerizing looks. What 

she really wanted to know was if she had heard him correctly. Had he just called 

her--- 

She blurted out, “What did you call me?” Saffi kept her gaze on his lips, fearing 

to meet his eyes – or anyone else’s for that matter. She was conscious of the way 

everyone’s – and she meant everyone – gazes had swung toward her as she spoke 

to Staffan. Their gazes felt mostly like a mixture of shock, curiosity, envy and not a 

small amount of outrage. 

“Saffi.” 

She felt even dizzier when she heard Staffan say that one name she hoped he 

wouldn’t say. Please, God, if you could just grant me one wish, let this be it. Let me 

not faint--- 

“Or should I call you Starry Eyed instead?” 

God didn’t listen. Or maybe He had His headsets on. 

Whatever. It was Saffi’s last thought just before she lost consciousness. 

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the backseat of a car, staring at its 

leather-upholstered ceiling. Saffi slowly pushed herself up, and as she did she real- 

ized that she was on one side of the U-shaped backseat of a limousine. It only 

meant one thing. 

“How do you feel?” His voice was hoarse with worry, his heart still thudding 

hard against his chest. He knew that the terror of seeing Saffi sliding away like she 
was dying would remain in his mind forever. If he hadn’t yet known how much this 

girl meant to him, he did so now. That one moment told him all he had to know. 

As he waited for Saffi to speak, Staffan unashamedly and hungrily stared at her. 

She was breathtakingly beautiful. Had she always been this beautiful? But she was 

also appallingly thin, and his chest squeezed painfully at the thought of being the 

cause of it. 

“I’m fine.” 

Saffi didn’t meet his gaze as she answered him, and that hurt. He clenched his 

fists at his side, controlling the urge to sweep her into his arms and beg for a

fucking second chance. “I’m sorry if I shocked you.” 

When she still didn’t say anything, he clenched his fists harder, his body 

becoming taut with tension. Staffan continued doggedly, “I came here to talk about 

the past---” 

“No.” Saffi didn’t even have to think about it. The memories of what happened 

– of what she knowingly allowed to happen between them – still made her cringe 

and she would be absolutely crazy if she would let Staffan relive her humiliation all 

over again. 

“Saffi---” 

Hearing him say her name so…so normally made her whisper, “Have you… 

have you always known?” 

“Yes---” Staffan cursed when Saffi flinched as if he had struck her. He might not 

understand her reaction, but he understood her, and it told him that he had some- 

how hurt her with his answer. “Saffi---” 

She flinched again, dazed by the pain of her newfound realization. How was it 

possible that this man could have so many ways of hurting her? “I’m glad I gave 

you something to laugh about for the tour,” she said flatly. “Another stress reliever, 

right?” 

Staffan whitened, realizing how she had completely misinterpreted his actions. 

“Saffi, it’s not what you think.” No longer able to keep his distance from her, not 

with every cell in his body clamoring for contact, Staffan went to her side. 

She started to struggle the moment he touched her, but he was of course the 

stronger one and in moments he had tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his 
gaze. “Listen to---” His voice faltered at the sight of her eyes. 

She didn’t have any stars in her eyes. 

Saffi blinked at the odd way Staffan was suddenly staring at her. “What?” 

Terror enveloped his heart, but he determinedly made himself ignore it. His 

brain told him he was fucking too late to have Saffi back, but he was going to god- 

damned try his hardest anyway. He wasn’t going to fucking let go without giving 

his all this time. He had lost her once, and it had been hell. If he had the smallest 

chance of chaining Saffi to his side this time, Staffan would take it and throw away 

the key. 

“I couldn’t understand why you were pretending to be someone you’re not. I 

just wanted that you be the one to tell me the truth.” He inhaled sharply, knowing 

that what he was about to say could go either way. “Chloe…used to lie to me all the 

time, and I had to beg her to tell me the truth every damn time. When she left me, I 

swore to myself that I would never---” 

Try as she might, Saffi couldn’t make herself ignore the bitterness in Staffan’s 

voice. “I’m sorry---” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Saffi. I was wrong---” 

“I lied because I couldn’t take any chances of anyone guessing who I really was, 

especially with the way I was dressed and the way I was acting.” 

“Why were you acting out of character, Saffi?” 

For a moment, Saffi considered lying but just as quickly decided against it. 

There was no reason to, and she couldn’t bear hurting Staffan with yet another lie. 

“I wanted that weekend for myself, to escape my boring life and pretend I could be 

the kind of girl you’d want. I wanted to know how it felt to be your groupie.” She 

was unconscious of the way her lips twisted in a painful smile as she continued, 

“And I was, wasn’t I?” 

Staffan groaned as tears formed in Saffi’s expressive eyes, and she struggled as 

he pulled her to his lap. The feel of having her back in his arms was glorious, but it 

would have been more so if only he didn’t feel like the scum of the earth for having 

hurt her so much. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Saffi.” 

Her entire body remained stiff in the circle of his arms, but Staffan could feel 
her shoulders shaking at how hard she was trying to stop herself from crying. She 

failed, and every tear that seeped into his shirt burned him. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, hugging her more tightly, knowing 

he would give his life in an instant if it meant stopping Saffi from hurting. “When 

you ran away from the room that night, I went after you.” He struggled to breathe, 

knowing what he was about to say would hurt her even more. “I wanted to tell you 

how I felt then. I was planning to go on my fucking knees and beg you to come 

back to me for good, but I saw you with Carson. I saw you kissing Carson. It gutted 

me. It was like Chloe taking me for a fool again and…” His voice lowered, voice raw 

with self-loathing as he admitted, “I wanted to take revenge so I did…that.” 

A choking sob escaped her, Staffan’s words making her remember the worst 

moment of her life. She started to cry hard then, the tears endlessly flowing as she 

saw in her mind a vivid vision of Staffan finger-fucking another woman--- 

She went wild, knowing she had to get away from Staffan, every inch of her 

body crawling at the memory of how she had begged him to just stop touching the 

other woman. 

“Calm down---” 

“Then let me go!” 

The hurt in her voice was too fresh, too strong for Staffan to ignore and he let 

his hands drop, keeping himself still as Saffi flew to the opposite side of the car. 

Chest heaving, she strove for control, despising at the same time how weak she 

still was with Staffan. Just one touch and her body had become completely alive. It 

wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. 

Saffi forced herself to meet Staffan’s gaze. “I can’t be with you anymore, 

Staffan.” 

Her words knocked him over, and he felt like iron claws had suddenly wrapped 

around his heart. “Saffi---” He couldn’t think of anything to say after that. He was 

panicking, and not even with Chloe had he felt this afraid. He had to make this 

right. He had to. Without Saffi, he was nothing. 

He tried again, his voice hoarse. “Saffi, I’m sorry.” When she shook her head at 

him, the stars still absent in her gaze, Staffan reached for her desperately. 

“No!” 
Staffan went cold at the way Saffi shrank away from his touch. “I’m not going to 

hurt you anymore, Saffi,” he promised her fiercely. 

She shook her head furiously. “I can’t…it’s just…” Even though it killed her to 

do so, Saffi made herself look at Staffan. “It’s not you, Staffan. It’s me. I can’t let 

myself be with you. I just…” She covered her mouth, pressing her hands hard 

against her lips to stop them from trembling. “Staffan, I just don’t have any pride 

when I’m with you and it’s not right. It’s just not.” 
Chapter Fourteen 

@TheOfficialStaffanAehrenthalStalker, Twitter: 

Spotted: Staffan at a university in Florida--- is he dating a college co-ed? 

Twitpic.com/xxxxjg 

Hours had passed, but Saffi’s words still hadn’t left him, had indeed taken to 

repeating itself nonstop in his mind. The words humbled and terrified him at the 

same time. On one hand, it made Staffan hopeful. Surely such words meant Saffi 

still cared for him, one way or another. But on the other hand, those words could 

also mean that she was determined to move on and nothing he could do would 

change her mind. 

It was a goddamn mess, but even so all Staffan knew was that whatever hap- 

pened, he wasn’t going to fucking back away just like that. And if Saffi had some- 

how thought he was going to be like a fucking selfless knight in shining armor, that 

he’d play nice and let her go because she deserved someone better--- 

She was so fucking wrong. 

He needed her. He loved her. And those things had to matter. 

Everyone at the hotel snapped into attention when he walked inside. It was 

ironic that the event Saffi was slated to attend – and receive an award – was being 

held in yet another one of his stepfather’s hotels. 

Two uniformed security men stood guard at the entrance. Guests before Staffan 

showed their invitations before proceeding inside but when he reached the front of 

the line, Staffan merely raised a brow and the pair hurriedly threw the doors open 

for him. 

Every man inside the vast and elegantly decorated ballroom was dressed in suit 

and tie. That was a fucking good omen, he told himself. It would make him stand out 

more in his white tux. He remembered how Saffi used to comment all the time on 

his red carpet photos, saying over and over again how much she loved his “sophis- 

ticated” taste in clothes. 

Well, if that was what she fucking wanted, he would dress in a goddamn tux 

every day, even work out with a fucking bowtie if he had to. Staffan was willing to 

do everything it took to make her realize the truth. 

~~~ 

Even though she was backstage, waiting for her name to be called and receive 

her award, Saffi knew the exact moment Staffan came inside the ballroom. Perhaps 

it was the way a palpable wave of lust went through all the females in the crowd, 

making them literally fan their faces. It could have been the noticeable buzz of 

whispers or – if she had the courage to peek past the curtains – it could easily be 

the way hundreds of flash bulbs had suddenly gone off, turning the ballroom into a 

galaxy of blinking stars from phone and digital cameras. 

Trying not to show how much the knowledge of Staffan’s proximity rattled her, 

Saffi continued almost desperately, “Can we go through the routine again? I’m a lit- 

tle nervous. This is my first time to receive an award. I know it’s not much---I 

mean, it’s not like I’m a valedictorian or something. It’s just because I’m such a 

nerd I had submitted the most number of research papers---” 

“Staffan Aehrenthal is outside,” Tanya, the senior in charge of directing the en- 

tire student-organized event, told her with wide eyes the moment Saffi paused for 

breath. 

Saffi stared fixedly at her notes. “Oh?” She told herself she didn’t care. Well, 

fine – she did. But that didn’t matter. This was going nowhere and it would never 

go anywhere because she and Staffan weren’t meant to be. 

Tanya’s face became filled with awe. “You’re so cool about this. If he was 

looking for me, I’d be melting right now---like right this very moment.” 

“There’s nothing to be excited about.” Saffi was thankful of the way she was 

able to sound unaffected even as her insides twisted with pain. “I’m a great…fan of 

his and from there we became…friends.” 

“Really?” Tanya let out an audible sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear that! I 

thought you two had something going on.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe you 

could introduce me to him later?” 

Saffi knew Tanya was subtly asking her to set her up with Staffan. Her first vio- 

lent instinct was to say no, but she forced herself to smile and nod. “Sure.” She 

could do it. She had to do it. The sooner Staffan understood that she couldn’t be 

with him, that she could never be whatever he wanted her to be in his life, the 

quicker she could have her life back to normal. 

And then her name was being called. 

~~~ 

Staffan had just finished refusing the tenth person to offer giving up his front- 

row seat to him when Saffi’s name was finally called. His attention immediately ar- 

rested, Staffan held his breath as the curtains parted and Saffi slowly walked into 

the center of the stage. 

She was an angelic vision in white, her curly hair falling in beautiful waves past 

her bare shoulders. A ruby-red pendant gleamed against her skin, and Staffan knew 

the way it rested in the valley of her breasts would draw lustful gazes all around. 

His jaw clenched with jealousy, and it was all he could do not to race up the stage 

and cover Saffi with his jacket. If he ever fucking found which goddamn idiot de- 

signed Saffi’s dress, that person was going to lose his fucking business. He’d god- 

damn make sure of it. 

Staffan wrestled his gaze away from her just to look at the crowd, and his fears 

proved to be true. Everyone was practically ogling her and it took all of his leg- 

endary self-control not to order everyone out. This was fucking family property, and 

he definitely had the right to do so if he wanted. And if it weren’t for the fact that 

Staffan needed to crawl his way back into Saffi’s good graces, he would have done 

so without a qualm. 

When she took the award and the microphone, her eyes briefly scanned the 

crowd. “Thank you so much for---” Saffi stumbled into a stop when her gaze met 

Staffan’s. When she hadn’t seen him in the front row, she had started to breathe 

more easily. After all, he was Staffan Aehrenthal. He was always used to the best, 

and he’d never be the type to sit anywhere but the front row. 

But apparently, she was wrong. 

Saffi took a deep breath and started again. “I’m really thankful for this award. I 

know it says in this plaque An Award for Prolific Achievements, but we all know that 

just means I’m the biggest nerd in school.” She smiled as she waited for the laugh- 

ter to die down. “But it’s okay, really, because I’m happy as a nerd. Personally, I 

think it’s just another way of describing a person who’s found his or her passion in 

life. This university helped me find my passion, and I’ll be forever thankful for that. 

So…” She lifted her award up. “I’m offering this to my fellow nerds!” 
Practically everyone came to their feet after that, thunderous applause filling the 

room and startling Saffi. Flushed with pleasure at the way her speech was received, 

she had been able to momentarily forget about everything that happened in the 

past…until she came face to face with Staffan, who was waiting for her backstage. 

Up close, he was even more overwhelmingly handsome, a prince in the flesh, 

easily standing out with his gleaming white tux while everyone else blended blandly 

into the darkness. Outside, she heard the lights shutting off one by one as their 

host gave his final speech. A party song played right after, followed by the cheers of 

the crowd. 

All of those felt like it was happening in another dimension, though. 

Right now, it was just Staffan and her again. 

It felt so right that it had to be wrong. 

“Congratulations, Saffi,” he said quietly, his eyes shining with something like 

pride. “You were magnificent back there.” 

Saffi stepped back quickly just as Staffan reached out for her. She made her lips 

form a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, pretending she didn’t see the flash of hurt 

in Staffan’s gaze at the way she had avoided his touch. 

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I really appreciate you coming here. I am 

still your biggest…fan.” Somehow, she couldn’t make herself say she was a fangirl, 

feeling like she didn’t deserve to call herself that. She lowered her voice, making 

sure that only Staffan could hear her as she said, “But I think it’s better if you go 

now.” 

He stiffened. 

She stiffened, too, wondering if she had pushed him too far. His pride meant a 

lot to him, after all. 

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 mir- 

acle 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 practi- 

cally 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 re- 

search study every week for the school year.” 

“Saffi!” 

Staffan’s voice made her swallow, but she managed not to look over her shoul- 

der 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, emo- 

tionally, 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 al- 

ways 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 con- 

tinue 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 Aehren- 

thal 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 Face- 

book that this was how I proposed---” 

Saffi gasped. “Staffan!” She closed her eyes, unable to look at Staffan or any- 

where 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 be- 

cause I missed you so much after my trip to Asia---” 

She pulled back. “Staffan!” Saffi didn’t know if she should be flattered or terri- 

fied 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 cor- 

ner. It was an assembled cubicle with one glass wall and the rest made in rein- 

forced 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 her- 

self 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. 

Panting, Saffi helped him with her zipper. 

“Yes, he hissed, letting her struggle with it and using both hands now to pull 

down the top half of her gown completely. He sucked his breath in when it im- 

mediately bared her naked breasts to his sight. “No fucking bra, Saffi?” he growled. 

“You better have worn this for me and not any other guy.” 

She finally managed to free his cock, and her hand clasped it tightly, lovingly.

He groaned. 

Saffi squeezed his cock. “Only for you.” 

Staffan moved up, and she let her hands fall away as he began rubbing his cock 

with her wetness. “Ready, baby?” 

“Yes.” 

He slid into her very slowly, taking her inch by inch so that she was squirming 

with need by the end. “Stop torturing me---oh!” He was finally inside her to the hilt, 

and having Staffan fill her with his hardness again was the most exquisite pleasure, 

making her cry out silently. 

“Why won’t you make any noise?” 

“B-because.” She couldn’t answer coherently, not when he was thrusting in and 

out of her, pushing her to the brink of insanity with the way he alternated between 

slow and fast. 

“Don’t you want them to know I’m fucking you?” he growled. 

“Staffan!” But she let out the tiniest moan after as he thrust more forcefully into 

her. And it was just the start. Saffi’s legs fell wide open while her fingers dug into 

his back as he rammed his cock into her again and again, his every thrust making 

her eyes roll back and her body squeeze around his cock. 

“Saffi!” 

She gasped, one hand immediately covering his mouth. “No, Staf---” She 

yelped, letting go of his mouth when he bit her skin. 

“I want them to hear me fucking you, want them to know how much pleasure 

you’re giving me.” His hand squeezed her breast, kneading it before his fingers 

slowly rolled one nipple between them. 

Her back arched at the riotous sensations his touch created, and it arched even 

more when he bent down to suck one nipple into his mouth in rhythm with the 

hard pounding his cock was giving her. 

She tried to keep herself from crying out as he sucked harder and thrust deeper 

into her, but when Staffan reached with one hand to play for her clit, she knew it 

was only a matter of time. “Staffan,” she whispered. 

Staffan looked into her eyes. “I love you.” 

She let out a cry, no longer caring that everyone could hear her. She cried out 

his name over and over as her body splintered into pieces. Staffan didn’t stop ram- 

ming his cock into her as she came, his lean hard hips moving furiously over her,

and then his back arched. “Saffi!” He threw his head back as he came, his move- 

ments wild, passionate, and lacking the control that once made him a legend. 

She wrapped her arms around him when he rested his spent body on top of 

her, his cock still pulsing softly inside her. “I love you, Staffan.” 

He turned slowly to kiss her cheek before pulling away to look down on her. 

“New start for both of us, Saffi.” 

She nodded. 

“No more lies, you promise?” 

She bit her lip. 

“Saffi?” he prompted while tenderly tucking loose strands of hair behind her 

ear. 
Just a few days, she told herself. She was going to be selfish again and just have 

a few more days before they tackle the not-so-nice realities of her life. “No more 

lies.” 

“Good. Now let’s get out of here. There are a couple of boys I want to see with 

my own eyes. I read their fucking comments on your Facebook---” 

“Staffan!” He gave her a short hard kiss, but even that was more than enough 

to make her see stars. 

He surveyed the dreamy look on her face with satisfaction. When she opened 

her eyes, the stars were also back, which was even better. In less than a minute, he 

had her fully clothed and was already tucking his shirt back in. “I don’t fucking 

share what’s mine, Saffi. And they’re going to fucking hear from me that if they give 

you one wrong look---” 

“You’re just going to embarrass both of us,” she grumbled. “They’ll all think 

you’re crazy for getting jealous over me.” Just as she reached for the door, he 

reached out and tugged her hair for her attention. 

When she looked over her shoulder, he kissed her again, even more devas- 

tatingly than before. 

Staffan pulled away, smirking when he saw the dazed look on Saffi’s lovely face. 

“There. Now no one would ever have a fucking doubt about what we did.” 

And so there wasn’t.

A Sneak Peek of When Fangirls Cry 

Bag of rolls in one hand and a paper holder of two cups of steaming hot coffee 

in another, Saffi debated with herself whether to buy today’s tabloid or not. She 

shouldn’t really. She knew that. Steel told her not to. Staffan told her not to, and 

even Yanna and Constantijin told her not to. With the report of Chloe Gustav’s 

marriage breaking down all over the news, she was likely to see a lot of awful ru- 

mors about Chloe and Staffan possibly getting back together. 

But that was because they didn’t know about her and Staffan, Saffi told herself. 

They didn’t know that he loved her so much he had been living in her dorm since 

they got back together, with everyone in uni turning a blind eye to it. During the 

weekends Saffi went with Staffan to sleep at his loft but school nights were always 

spent in her dorm. 

She looked at the tabloid again. 

She was…going to buy it. 

Putting everything down for the moment, Saffi decided it was better to browse 

through the whole thing without Staffan around. If she did it back at the dorm and 

Staffan happened to be awake, she would never get to see even one word written in 

it. 

So far so good, Saffi thought, scanning the front page and seeing nothing written 

about Staffan or Chloe. She flipped through the pages, her smile widening with 

every page that had nothing about the two until she reached the penultimate page. 

The photo, together with the big bold letters written over it, made her feel dizzy 

with horror. 

Homosexual halosaur. 

Saffi broke into a run, gasping when she reached her floor. She threw the door 

open, her gaze immediately falling onto the empty bed. 

Staffan was gone. 

Saffi slid to the floor, numb with shock, the tabloid slipping past her fingers, 

falling open to the page where a photo of Jeremy and her was printed. They had 

been caught in camera leaving the pharmacy, and a small in-set shot had zoomed 

in at what she was holding: a pregnancy kit. 

ILLEGITIMATE SON OF PRINCE KHALID WITH SECRET FIANCEE, ONLY 

DAUGHTER OF SENATOR MARCH: BABY ON THE WAY?