Eternally Seduced(67)

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."