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 although a bit puzzled by it. Saffi had woken up in extremely good spirits. He had expected 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 immediately."
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, slamming 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 people'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 between 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 responsible for what happened when she was in high school. Vania had been his girlfriend 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 expected 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 second 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 practice, 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 pressure and bullying were to blame. That's all." Deciding that another change of subject 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."