When Fangirls Cry (9 page)

            She was smiling and sighing at the same time, letting her fingers drift over every surface. And then she was throwing the doors of his closet wide open---

            “Wait, dammit---” But it was too late.

            “Oh. My. God.” She slowly took the costumed outfit out. “So it’s true,” Saffi breathed.

            “No, it’s fucking not.”

            “I thought it was just some kind of hoax, I mean, you know, like you’ve been Photoshopped – but it’s true!” Saffi started to laugh as she held up the coat hanger holding a plastic-wrapped three-piece Elvis Presley outfit, with an elaborate wig tied to it. “You really did impersonate him when you were in college!”

            He grabbed the outfit from Saffi and shoved it back inside the closet before slamming the doors closed. “If you ever breathe one word to anyone about this---” When he turned around to scowl at Saffi, she was already half naked, her dress lying in a pool of velvet around her feet.

            His mouth went dry.

            Hands now shaking, she unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. “Staffan,” she said softly.

            “What?”

            “I meant what I said. I want you in my bed every night.”

            His jaw hardened at her words, and she could see his inner struggle reflected in his eyes.

            Swallowing, she raised her arms as if to welcome him. “Staffan, please? I want you so much now.” When he still didn’t respond, Saffi let her hands drift over her breasts. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Please, Staffan. I need you to touch me. I need to feel your body against me. I need you to rip my panties---”

            It was the trigger she was looking for, and he was on her in an instant. Staffan ripped her panties off the same time he swept her into his arms. His lips took hers as he gently lowered her to the bed. Saffi’s eyes pricked with tears she quickly blinked away, everything in her crying out her love for Staffan. Even now – even though she knew he still doubted their baby was his, he was careful not to hurt her or the baby.

            She helped him take off his own clothes even as their lips moved hungrily against each other, neither of them willing to break their kiss. When he was naked, Staffan’s lean hard form settled over hers like a second layer of skin that was all heat, passion, and magic – oh dear God, it was magic. His kiss, his touch, his possession – Saffi couldn’t help whispering, “I love you.”

            Staffan froze over her, his head lifting up, breaking the kiss.

            The memories – those hurtful, deceitful, misunderstood memories were returning to Staffan and she saw how the betrayal and fury made his hazel eyes burn. It hurt her, only because she knew how much Staffan was hurting. He loved her – Staffan had loved her with all his heart, and the world made it seem as if she didn’t love him back.

            She cupped his face. “I love you, Staffan.” Her voice was fierce. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved and will ever love---”

            “Liar,” he gritted out.

            He started to pull away, but she was prepared for it. Her arms went around him, holding him to her tightly.

            “Let go,” Staffan snarled under his breath, the feel of Saffi’s soft naked body tempting him to forget. But he was fucking done forgetting. He had played the role of a happy lover and it just fucking hurt to remember that it wasn’t true.

            Saffi was clinging to him like he was a raft and she was drowning. He couldn’t use brute force, unwilling to risk hurting her or the baby she carried. “Goddammit it, Saffi, let go---”

            “Never!” Tightening her arms around him, she rose up and aggressively covered his lips with hers. She kissed him deeply, lovingly, seducing him without words. Staffan’s lips were tightly shut, but she didn’t let it discourage her, licking and nibbling his lips as she pressed her breasts against his chest. She twisted her legs around his waist as she rubbed her hot sex against his already pulsing dick.

            Saffi’s breathy moans and calculated moves were fast eroding his defenses. Staffan did his best to put distance between them but Saffi followed him wherever he rolled and twisted on the bed, her lips never leaving his, her hot little pussy drenching his dick with so much wetness it nearly drove him out of his mind.

            “Saffi, fuck!” Staffan rolled to his back as he did his best to disentangle her hold around his neck. But this position was his Waterloo – only he would not know until it was too late. Saffi did let go, only to slither down to take his dick into her mouth, sucking him – all of him.

            “
Fuck
!” He jerked on the bed, nearly sitting up but unable to because his hips were imprisoned under Saffi’s naked body, his dick still caged in the beautifully moist warmth of her mouth. She had one hand on his balls, playing with them as her other hand stroked his dick while keeping him in her mouth. The sucking noises Saffi was making filled Staffan’s mind and he fell back against the bed.

            Slowly, his fingers tightened on her hair, and then he was fucking her mouth. He closed his eyes, closed his mind to the reality of Saffi’s betrayal and just lost himself in the pleasure of her touch. He fucked her mouth hard, his hands not letting go of her head as he lifted his hips and began thrusting into her forcefully.

            But Saffi didn’t seem to care, her hands tightening their hold around his dick as her strokes became faster and wilder. His breath hitched and he knew he was close.

           
Did she do this for the prince, too?

           
The thought came out of nowhere and Staffan reacted instinctively even as his arousal reached its peak. Staffan wrenched himself out of her mouth and she let go with a cry, taken by surprise at the roughness of his move. He rose to his knees without a word, jerking himself off as their gazes locked with each other.

            And then he was coming with a guttural groan.

            “Why?” Saffi whispered the question when she could see that he was completely spent, his dick lying against his belly in a semi-erect state.

            His eyes blazed at her. “You have to fucking ask?” Staffan snarled.

            She swallowed. “Staffan---”

            “I don’t know what fucking game you’re playing, wanting me to have sex with you. But I have never had a taste for another man’s leftovers and you’re no fucking exception.”

            Bile rose at her throat at Staffan’s obvious contempt, humiliation at his rejection making Saffi want to cover her nakedness. But when he turned to leave, she couldn’t help cry out his name.

            Staffan stilled but did not turn to face her.

            “We had an agreement, Staffan.” Her voice was uneven but determined. “I want you in my bed every night and that still…stands. Even if we don’t…do anything.” She gripped the bed sheets, twisting them into knots, using it a way to release her tension. “And since you think I’m such a deceitful bitch, then you won’t risk backing out of our agreement. Because your siblings are lovely---”

            “Leave them out of this!”

            She closed her eyes.
I’m sorry,
Saffi silently apologized to Edana and Cairo even though she hoped they would never know she was using them as bargaining chips. Turning her back to Staffan, she said quietly, “Then stay with me every night. That’s all I want.”

            Staffan didn’t answer. But as she curled herself into a ball under the covers, she heard him moving behind her. He took the top layer off, the one that was now wet with his come, and she dimly heard him throw them on the floor. The bed dipped under his weight and then he was lying next to her, the space between them like a cliff that she couldn’t ever cross.

            She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears fell.

            He lay there, staring at the ceiling, hating everything about his fucking life. And just when he thought she was finally sleeping, he heard her say his name in a tear-choked whisper.

            “Staffan?”

            Saffi knew he was awake, but Staffan didn’t answer. The tears fell faster because somehow, his silence was like being rejected all over again.

Chloe Gustav: Spotted in Orlando!

Twitter: Aehrenthal_Fanatics

            “Where are you going?” Saffi winced at the sharpness of her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound like that, but fear and worry made it so. She had been painfully relieved when upon their arrival back in the States, Bob had driven both of them back to Orlando. A part of her dreaded finding out that she would have to stay in her dorm room alone for the rest of the semester, but Silver had apparently arranged for both of them to live off campus.

            The two-room apartment had just the right amount of space for a couple, with a minimalist feel to it. The maroon accents were a nice contrast and gave the place some color. The sight of her – their – new home had given Saffi hope. She thought it could be a fresh start for them - until she saw Staffan preparing to leave.

            Staffan was dressed to kill. Scarf, sweater, striped shirt, faded jeans and boots – it was rock star casual, the kind that only someone as unfailingly fashionable as Staffan could carry out. Normally, she would be glad to see him wearing that, but it was different now. Staffan was still furious with her, and she couldn’t forget the fact that the man before her did still happen to be Sweden’s #1 Sex God.

            Staffan’s tone was chilly when he asked, “Do I fucking ask you where you are going?”

            “No, but---”

            “Then don’t fucking do it to me because what I do on my own time is none of your fucking business.”

            His gaze was contemptuous and it hurt Saffi to realize that such a look was slowly losing its sting. She was getting used to it, this hatred from Staffan, and she wondered hysterically if that was a good or bad thing.

            “This marriage is a farce so don’t start acting like you’re a fucking housewife and I’m going to cherish you like a besotted groom. I married you because your family
blackmailed
me into it, but they can’t force me to pretend that I’m goddamn happy with this shit.”

            “But you can be.” She couldn’t keep silent, couldn’t help appealing to Staffan one more time. And Saffi knew she would probably do it again and again even if it killed her. Because she loved him and because she knew he had loved her – still loved her.

            “If you just listened to me,” she said brokenly. “If you just let me explain---”

            “YOU ALWAYS GODDAMN LIE!”

            Saffi whitened.

            “Don’t you fucking understand? I can’t fucking trust you because there was never a day that you didn’t lie and I’m beginning to think I fell in love with a fucking psycho who can’t stop lying!”

            She started to cry, and she couldn’t stop crying when Staffan cursed.

            “I can’t deal with this right now.” The door slammed shut behind Staffan, and somehow it felt like he was effectively shutting her out of his life as well.

****

            “Don’t mind them.” Mary couldn’t figure out if she was warning or pleading with her mentor as the interest in Saffi just kept growing, and
not
in a good way. The stares and whispers were something she had a feeling Saffi was already used to. But the
snide
comments were so much worse and even Mary was feeling weak at just how spiteful everyone was being.

            If only this line would just move faster, Mary despaired silently. Normally, queues for the Registrar’s Office were nonexistent. It was just their luck to line up at the same time the freshmen had been asked to update their records. Now, Mary and Saffi had been forced to listen to everyone bitch about Saffi’s love life – they had been listening to it for only fifteen minutes, but in Mary’s mind it felt like forever.

            Saffi forced herself to smile for the younger girl’s sake. Mary was very aptly named, and she had a gentleness about her that helped Saffi keep calm. Before she could answer, the girls behind her were talking again, loudly.

            “Some whores just can’t get enough of dicks.”

            “Yeah, like fucking terrorists aren’t enough---”

            The comment got to Saffi and she whirled around, unable to believe someone could be so blatantly racist. “Excuse me?”

            The two girls were just about her age, both of them artificial blondes and dressed in identical Burberry dresses, Ferragamo boots, and clutching matching Gucci purses.

           
Great,
Saffi thought. Jeremy was being badmouthed by the Olsen twins in knockoff designer outfits. Because they were
fake,
even though most people wouldn’t have known it. But then, that was one of the perks of being Pearl Beaufort’s daughter.

            Burberry Blond One looked uneasy at being confronted publicly, but she quickly hid it behind a derisive smile. “Do you want me to repeat it?”

            “Yes,” Saffi said calmly, “I do. Because I’m going to have you reported for racism and discrimination, which are considered major offenses in this university.”

            Burberry Blond 2 came to her friend’s defense, snapping, “You think you’ve got it all, don’t you? Even though Staffan Aehrenthal married you, don’t think it’s going to last. It won’t! So if you’ve lined up here to have your name changed, don’t bother.”

            “Ah, but I will bother. Because, you know, I’m rich and I can afford to pay again to have my name changed back if it doesn’t work out.” She looked pointedly at the dress, the purse, and the boots. “I’m really, really, really rich.” She stroked her original Chanel purse.

            Twenty minutes later, Mary was still laughing as she recounted Saffi’s earlier confrontation.         “That was so awesome, Saffi!”

            “It wasn’t really,” Saffi confided guiltily. “I’ve never done something like that before.” She took out her phone and started checking Twitter, needing to know if there was some way that what happened had already made it on the Internet.

            “Rub people’s noses in your wealth---like that kind of something?” Mary teased.

            Saffi made a face. “Jeremy was a victim of bullying and racism when he was young so it just touched a nerve.” She started to say something more, but then she saw the most recent tweets mentioning her and she paled.

            Correctly interpreting the look because she had also seen how the fangirl community reacted to the news of Staffan and Saffi’s wedding, Mary said quietly, “Don’t let what they’re saying get to you, Saffi. You know how they are. They’re just reeling because they didn’t see this coming. And they don’t know the truth.”

            “Yeah, I know that.”

            “They’ll understand eventually, the moment you and Staffan work things out---” Mary stopped speaking when Saffi looked at her with sudden horror, her eyes wide and dark with anxiety.

            “What is it?”

            “Chloe – Staffan’s ex…she’s here---as in
here,
today, now.”

****

            A trail left by fangirls was always easy to follow since they had a tendency to be very detailed. In no time, she was able to pinpoint Chloe Gustav’s exact location – a hotel owned by the Aehrenthal family. The moment Saffi passed through the doors, she nearly drowned under the chorus of greetings she received from all the employees. Everyone referred to her as Mrs. Aehrenthal – the first time she heard herself being called that. It was surreal and just a little heartbreaking, leaving Saffi rubbing her eyes to get rid of the tears as she entered the lobby café.

            When she opened her eyes again, Chloe Gustav stood in front of her, a catty smile on her still-beautiful face. “I was thinking it could not be you, but I see that it
is
you.”

            Saffi wanted to puke.
This
was Staffan’s first love, the girl who had single-handedly ruined Staffan’s life. No matter what she did, even if this whole stupid scandal about their baby hadn’t blown up in the newspapers, Saffi had a sinking feeling that she could never replace Chloe in Staffan’s heart. First loves were special – she should know since…since Staffan was her first love. 

            Chloe was heading to one of the tables next to the windows, her hips swaying with each move. Tall and svelte, she was like an overgrown Marilyn Monroe minus the beauty mark. Saffi followed behind slowly, stumbling once before she caught herself, feeling naked under the awkward gazes of the staff around them. One of them would report what was happening to Staffan – she was sure of it.

            When they sat across each other, Saffi saw to her satisfaction that Chloe’s age was beginning to show. It was such a small thing, but she needed all the motivation she could get. With every second that passed, Saffi felt like Staffan was drifting closer and closer to this woman’s arms. And she just couldn’t let that happen – she would do anything
not
to let that happen.

            “You shouldn’t be here, you know.” Chloe fired the opening salvo. She felt like she had to. The papers hadn’t done her justice. In those grainy photos, Sapphire March – now the new Mrs. Staffan Aehrenthal – had simply appeared young and unsure. The first part rankled, making Chloe want to take advantage of the latter.

            But faced with Staffan’s stunningly beautiful bride, Chloe could feel every year of her age – and more – showing up on her thrice-lifted face. This was the kind of woman she had always hated and envied when she and Staffan had been living on the other side of the fence as children. They had only been able to look enviously at what was happening with the wealthy ones.

            Before Staffan’s child bride could answer, Chloe sneered, “Little girls have nothing to do with adult business.” She expected the girl to get mad, perhaps even cry, but the only thing this one did was look at her steadily with clear blue eyes.

            It was unnerving, the way those eyes seemed to hide nothing and see everything, and especially when Staffan’s new wife started to speak. “Staffan is my husband, Ms. Gustav.” Her voice was strained but cultured.

            Flustered by the younger woman’s unexpected poise and mad at herself for feeling that way, Chloe shot back, “Based on what I hear, he doesn’t want to be your husband. They say you forced him to be your baby’s daddy when everyone knows it’s the prince’s.”

            The words made Saffi twist her hands on her lap, and she was thankful they were hidden from view under the table. She adjusted the napkin on her lap to give her an excuse to break her eye contract with Chloe. If she felt this bad that the whole world seemed to be laughing at Staffan for being cuckolded, how much worse did Staffan actually feel?

            “He’s the man I love, Ms. Gustav.” When Saffi lifted her gaze to meet Chloe’s eyes, she didn’t bother hiding her emotions. They were plainly visible in her eyes for everyone to see. “He’s the man I’ll always love so please don’t make trouble for him again.”

            The words were so earnestly spoken Chloe could feel herself whitening. Memories of the past she had tried so hard to forget came back. Once – once she had been as idealistic as this girl. But reality soon taught her that life was a lot different from what she imagined it would be in her head. She had left Staffan, hoping that by marrying someone with the right background, she would finally feel complete and vindicated.

            But the marriage had only made Chloe feel displaced, like she was a square peg forcing herself to fit into an elite and restrictive circle.

            Deliberately pushing her bitter thoughts away, Chloe said tightly, “You’re barking at the wrong tree. It’s not my fault that Staffan always wants to help me.” Before the other woman could speak, she said in a hard voice, “He loved me. He was head over heels in love with me and though I left him, I didn’t cheat on him like you did.”