Saffi looked at him questioningly, concern darkening eyes.
Ah, f**k, f**k, f**k.
Staffan finished grimly, “…I wanna marry you.”
The rest of the wedding ceremony was a blur, and the next thing he knew, they had exchanged rings. The judge was pronouncing them married and inviting him to kiss the bride. He started to make an excuse, but Saffi was suddenly there, making her mother laugh in surprise.
Her arms wound around his neck and when she tiptoed, he drew his breath sharply because she still had stars in her eyes. And then her lips covered his.
Staffan’s world stopped turning with that kiss, and his heart stopped beating when Saffi whispered in perfectly good Swedish, “I promise you, Staffan. One day, you’ll know that Bruno Mars was wrong on our count. It’s not a dumb thing to marry me.”
****
Less than an hour later, Staffan and Saffi were strapped in their seats as his private jet took off. He kept his gaze off her, hating himself for still wanting the girl who had f**ked him over more than any other person in the world.
Staffan’s cold anger was palpable, but she did her best to ignore it, drawing strength from the gold band that now encircled her finger. Gazing down at it, she asked, “Where are we flying for our honeymoon?” Staffan’s answering laugh made her wince.
“You really think I want you in my f**king bed?”
Yes, Saffi thought. She really did think that, but she supposed it would be better not to say it. Out loud, she asked, “Where are we flying then?”
He answered curtly, “Sweden. My parents would like to meet my bride.” He had done his very best to wriggle out of tonight’s visit, but his mother had been insistent.
“She must be devastated, son, to have the whole world thinking that your baby belongs to someone else. She must know we will love her and be behind her all the way.” No doubt, his mother had remembered all the years they had been shunned by the entire town.
Again, she winced at the way he spoke, and she unconsciously covered her stomach with one hand.
Staffan saw the gesture. “We’ll make them believe your baby’s mine.” He looked at her with hard eyes. “And we’ll make them believe that we’re f**king happy together.”
Saffi was quiet at his words, and he didn’t trust it one bit. In a moment, he knew he was right not to do so as she asked, “What’s in it for me?” She winced at Staffan’s torrent of curses.
“How the f**k can you ask something like that after what I did for your mother?”
She forced herself to meet his furious gaze. Even with him probably wishing she was dead, she still couldn’t stop thinking that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, the only man she would ever love. The thought made her stroke her stomach. Little one, don’t listen to your daddy for now. He’s having a…mid-life crisis. Her first words to her baby might be a lie, but it was better than the truth.
She repeated, “What do I get, Staffan?”
“You’re really going to do something this low---”
Saffi shook her head. “It’s not low, Staffan. It’s called fighting for the man I love.” She raised a brow. “So again---”
He asked tersely, “What the f**k do you want then?”
“You. In my bed, every night.”
****
“She is such a sweet little thing, Staffan,” his mother Elvira gushed an hour after meeting Saffi. “Those tabloids are horrible! I’ve done my research too, you know.” She sniffed in disdain as she handed him the platter of roasted turkey. “She and the prince have been friends since childhood. He’s the best friend of her oldest brother – it completely makes sense that she would turn to him for help when you two had an altercation.”
Staffan could only nod dutifully even as he did his best not to let his cynicism show. He knew the same things Elvira did. The only difference was how they perceived the facts. His mother - a beautiful petite woman whose curves were still eye-catching even in her advanced age - was the perennial optimist. None of their earlier hardships had jaded Elvira, but those years had shaped Staffan. It had toughened him up, made him a realist – but he was beginning to realize that he still had his weaknesses.
Women always succeeded in making a fool out of him, and Sapphire March was the greatest deceiver of them all.
When Staffan followed Elvira into the dining room, he saw in disgust that Saffi had already done a job on his family, weaving her web of deceit easily with her playful smiles and cheerful banter. As he placed the platter on the center of the table, Staffan couldn’t help but overhear what she was sharing with her rapt audience.
“Boom, boom, boom…” Saffi was doing her best to imitate the sound of explosions.
“Ooooooh,” his younger sister Edana exclaimed. She was a miniature replica of Elvira, hair in braids, with hazel eyes exactly like Staffan’s. She looked so much like a doll in her ruffled dress that the first Saffi time had seen her, she wanted to hug the little girl to death.
Clearing her throat, Saffi said in a loud confidential whisper, “It was so dark but we just knew something was going to happen! Someone really special was going to perform so we were bouncing and bouncing in excitement!” Saffi was bouncing on her feet as she spoke.
“And then when the lights came back, OH MY GOD!”
Her audience jerked, including Conrad Aehrenthal, who had a similarly entranced expression on his face. He was tall and, like his wife, extremely good looking for someone in his advanced years. He was supposed to be a billionaire who ruled his resort empire with an iron fist, but at the moment he seemed like a sweet cuddly man who wanted nothing more than to hear stories about his oldest child.
“Oh my God,” Elvira was stunned into repeating the same words, shocked by her new daughter-in-law’s sudden exclamation. Even Staffan had been taken by surprise, the cutlery he was holding crashing to the floor.
Saffi didn’t appear to notice any of these though. A dreamy expression on her face, she said softly, “Staffan was at the center of the stage and he was wearing the most beautiful clothes, you know – the kind that really sparkled in a super manly way? He looked like a god.”
“A god,” his younger brother Cairo repeated in awe. He had chubby cheeks and the most amazing dimples. He also idolized his older brother and was determined to follow in Staffan’s footsteps as a rock star.
“Yes! A god!” Saffi jumped to her feet. “And then he was singing and dancing and then suddenly he saw me and he called me up to the stage and---”