Staffan followed the old man, sitting only when the others had taken their seats. He was alone on the couch. Across him, the prince and Saffi’s oldest brother sat beside each other. The younger brother and Saffi’s father took the armrests flanking Staffan’s sides.
In all, it was like the March family against him, a declaration that also meant they considered the prince a part of their family.
Staffan’s eyes became cold, but his voice and smile were perfectly charming as he looked at the prince. “Jeremy Al-Atassi, isn’t it? Or should I call you Your Highness?”
“Whichever you prefer,” the prince responded evenly.
Cold f**king bastard, Staffan thought. If this was Saffi’s first love, then her taste had gotten a lot better by hooking up with him. At least Staffan was human. This one seemed like a f**king statue.
“Mr. Aehrenthal, I’m assuming you know why we’ve invited you here.”
“It was more like a f**king threat to be court-marshaled, but yeah, thanks for the invitation.” Staffan was grimly satisfied to see Silver March stunned at his use of invectives while the prince’s lips silently tightened. Yeah, well, this was the real him and he would not f**king change anything about who he was.
“I apologize if that was how it seemed, but it was imperative we talk to you as soon as possible.”
Somehow, the senator’s still-polite voice grated on his nerves, and Staffan just wanted everything to be over. He didn’t f**king need any of the Marches in his life. They had done enough f**king damage, and he doubted he would ever trust a woman again after the number Saffi had done on him.
But before he could speak, the f**king prince leaned forward, saying in a hard voice, “I’m not the father.”
“I don’t give a f**k.”
Everyone except Saffi’s oldest brother reacted to his words.
The senator whitened, Silver’s face went cold, and Jeremy’s fists clenched, the air in the room suddenly alive with tension.
Staffan gazed at the prince challengingly, knowing the smirk on his lips would be grating on the other man’s noble nerves. “Throw the first punch,” he invited softly. “And I’ll be more than glad to f**king give you a taste of my own fist.”
“Unfortunately, that would have to be postponed, however much I look forward to seeing you beaten up myself.” It was the first time for Steel March to speak, his name perfectly apt to describe the way he spoke and gazed at Staffan. There was no compromise, no emotion in his aristocratic-looking face.
“I will get to the point, Mr. Aehrenthal. You will marry my sister tomorrow---”
Staffan jerked in his seat.
“Or your family reads reports about you taking advantage of a nineteen year old.”
“I didn’t even f**king know she was nineteen,” he said tightly.
“You know now, Mr. Aehrenthal, but I doubt it makes a difference to you. The fact of the matter is, you care about your mother and stepfather – and it is perhaps the only positive trait you have. We also both know that over the years, you have worked hard to ensure that your younger brother and sister remain unaffected by your, shall we say, notoriety. But the news of you practically raping a teenager, one whose childhood trauma is fairly well-known in our circles---are you willing to risk that, Mr. Aehrenthal?”
Staffan’s own fists clenched at the threat, knowing how such headlines would affect his family’s lives.
“But that’s not all, Mr. Aehrenthal. We have also taken steps to ensure that your friends’ businesses would not remain unaffected by your transgressions. You are a part of the so-called Pussketeers, are you not?”
The cold disdain in Steel March’s voice hit a raw spot. He sneered, “Yes – and your sister’s pu**y was one of those that I f**ked.”
The prince accepted his earlier challenge.
He threw a punch at Staffan, who swung his fist back. Their bodies slammed against each other with a loud thud as they crashed on the center table. Its glass surface broke, and the two of them fell to the ground, shards of glass pricking their backs.
Before the March brothers could haul them apart, Jeremy and Staffan managed to throw a few more punches at each other, both their faces snapping to the side at the impact of their blows.
Jeremy’s nose was bleeding, while Staffan’s lip had a painful cut. Bruises circled both their eyes, which were already starting to change color.
Staffan wrenched away from Silver March’s hold. “Why the f**k do you want me to marry your sister when we can’t even be f**king sure I’m the father?” He looked at the prince in contempt. “Don’t think I’m not f**king aware about your f**king desert kingdom. Your daddy’s got you to ditch the commoner for a princess, didn’t he?” He turned to Steel next. “And now your baby sister’s without a daddy for her brat, you want to f**king trap me with a shotgun wedding? You need a f**king face-saving excuse so the senator here wins the election?”
None of the other men spoke.
When Steel spoke, his voice was mild, a cruelly cryptic smile playing on his lips. “You have the most incredible talent of putting one and one together and coming up with the most inventive theories, Mr. Aehrenthal.” The smile disappeared. “But in this case, hypotheses don’t matter. I will spell out the facts for you. In an hour, we can have the story about you taking advantage of an innocent nineteen-year old girl circulating in the media. In an hour, we will cause problems that will affect the businesses of Constantijin Kastein and Rathe Wellesley, both of whom are not American citizens and as such are not a priority of this country.”
“I could sue you for blackmail, you bastard.”
“Of course – but by then, the damage would have been done.”
Staffan said quietly, “You do know that when I marry your sister, I’ll make her life a living hell?”
Steel did not appear affected. “I’ll ask you this question just once. Are you going to marry my sister or not?”
****
The soft knock on her door told Saffi the identity of her visitor even before it opened and Steel came walking in. His face was expressionless, but she knew both her brothers well. One look into his eyes, and her heart lurched.
“You shouldn’t have,” Saffi whispered, weakening at the realization that they had done the unthinkable. She lowered herself on the bed, feeling like all the life had gone out of her.
Her family had forced Staffan’s hand, and he had said…yes.