When they entered the huge concert hall, where a part of it had been temporarily set aside for dance practice, the first thing Saffi saw was Mitch.
Shit! Saffi made a quick about face. She was so not in the mood to get into another catfight!
Behind her, Alan said happily, "Guess what, guys? H's here and wants to practice with us!" Alan reached her side and twirled her around to face everyone. Saffi watched Mitch's eyes widen in recognition.
Mitch was in a rage. Dressed in another all-black ensemble because she knew it made her look sophisticated like a celebrity, she could only curse silently when she saw the same groupie who ruined her night at the concert. How could Staffan Aehrenthal prefer that slut over her? She was a real woman, a decent woman while this---this whore was nothing!
Saffi pretended to twist her ankle. "Oh, wow. I think I just hurt myself."
Alan and Donovan stared at her blankly.
Mitch said loudly, "If she wants to dance so much then maybe she'll be game for a dance-off. Winner has dibs on Staffan's bed tonight."
She was so not going to stoop to the insane fangirl's level, Saffi decided, and especially since she knew she had absolutely no chance of winning. Saffi twisted her ankle to another angle. "I'd love to, umm, dance off, but I don't think it's going to happen, not with my ankle … "
"Oooh. She's walking away," Mitch jeered. "I guess she knows groupies like her are just good for nothing but sex."
Saffi froze.
She thought about Carmina and her friends and the way they had fun hanging out during the concert, the way those girls had fought for her and even helped her get past the checkpoint of Staffan's backstage area.
Without thinking, Saffi rotated her ankle clockwise twice, exclaiming with exaggerated shock, "Oh my goodness, I think I'm fine now."
Alan slowly lifted his hand up … and smacked himself in the forehead. This, he thought, was not going to be good. It had Silly Sapphire written all over, like the countless times Saffi did the craziest things back when they were kids because she was more gullible and innocent than a newborn.
Mitch had started warming up in front of her, cracking her knuckles, stretching her limbs, and twisting her body in no way a vertebrate had a right to.
Pretending she was just as experienced, Saffi did a little stretch, too, standing on her toes only to lose her balance a few seconds after. The other dancers choked back their laughter as she tumbled to the side and hurriedly righted herself.
Saffi lifted her chin. "No matter how good your moves are on the dance floor, they won't do you any good when you're in Staffan's bed. You'll leave him cold and you'll---" Saffi tried to come up with a really nasty insult. "---you'll make his dick hide like a turtle inside a shell because you're so bad in bed!"
Mitch saw red. "Bitch!" And then she was charging towards Saffi like a bull in Prada.
Saffi shrieked in surprise, but Alan and Donovan managed to hold Mitch back, the other woman's nails just inches away from clawing her face.
"Let's just settle this with a dance-off. It's the civilized thing to do here," Donovan said hastily. Alan turned to her with wriggling eyebrows and actually winking, as if he wanted to make sure she knew that Donovan was doing her a big favor.
She glared back. Had Alan forgotten she had two left feet---
Shit. She suddenly remembered what she had also told him that she had professional lessons. Saffi gulped. One look at Mitch and she knew the other woman was the type to pay for actual professional lessons. It could be anything from pole dancing to belly dancing to anything that could help Mitch's transition from fangirl to Mrs. Superstar.
Okay, she was so going to … be killed.
Saffi knew girls like Mitch – the ones that gave true fangirls a bad rep. It didn't matter to women like Mitch who they'd end up being with. All they wanted was the fame. They just weren't as honest about it as the Gs, and they'd use anything – like this dance-off – to score.
She took a step closer, the very idea of having Staffan spend time – for whatever reason – with someone so undeserving of him firing Saffi up like she was a sports car running on full tank. Mitch and Staffan? Over her dead body! In fact, if Mitch did kill her in this dance battle, Saffi would rather hand Staffan over to Carmina.
She pointed at Mitch. "Game on."
~~~
It was barely nine in the morning and the stage area was already ringing with noise. Usually, most of his crew would still be tired after the flight and some even hung over from the open bar last night. It was rare for them to be completely energetic and noisy in the morning, and there could only be one explanation for it.
Saffi.
Staffan quickened his steps and a little while later he was running full force towards the stage area as the shouts got louder. Why were they cheering? Maybe Saffi and Carson were doing something together? He ran even faster at the thought. It didn't fucking matter what they were doing together. He just wanted them apart – completely.
If that young asshole even dared touch what was his---
He bumped into Bob in his haste.
Bob's eyes widened at the naked fury in Staffan's eyes. "It's not what you think!" he said quickly. He didn't really know what his employer was thinking. All he knew was that Staffan had to have the wrong idea to look this mad, especially considering what Saffi was doing right now.
"What the fuck do you mean?" Staffan didn't bother waiting for an answer. "What the hell's going on?" Ahead of him, his entire crew – the backup dancers and vocals, the tech crew, and even his management team – was all cheering and chanting, almost drowning out the music that was playing.
"It's a dance-off, boss." Bob looked discomfited. "With you as the prize."
"What the fuck?"
"One of the groupies from LA is here again and she challenged Saffi to a dance off."
"And she agreed?" His Saffi March, who he was guessing had to be extremely smart to be taking a post-graduate degree on fish, had agreed?
Bob nodded.
"Is she any good?"
The other man coughed because any other response would be … awkward.
Staffan coughed as well, needing to hide his embarrassment. "That's all I need to know."
And it really was. Staffan's chest eased, like a heavy burden had just been lifted off his shoulders. He walked at a leisurely pace and as word spread about his presence, the crowd immediately parted, automatically making space for Staffan to walk unhindered all the way to the front.
The first thing he saw was Saffi, standing at the edge, a concentrated frown on her face. Mitch was dancing in the center, and even he had to admit it was an extremely good dance, with just the right amount of softness and snap. With both of them had their backs to him, neither girl wasn't aware of his presence.
Mitch was dancing to Rihanna's Diamonds, and the song perfectly suited her style of dance. Staffan knew the woman had to be professionally taught to dance like that.
"Saffi's up next!" Donovan shouted.
The crowd cheered so wildly it was deafening, and Staffan caught sight of the disgruntled look on Mitch's face as she walked off.
Saffi quickly whispered something to the pink-haired girlfriend of one of his vocals before moving to the center. She was nervous but doing her best not to show it. She had braided her hair, and it made her look impossibly younger, especially with her face free of makeup. She wore a floral dress with an extremely low neckline.
Since he was pretty sure Saffi hadn't come with any luggage, Staffan guessed that she had bought the dress from one of the hotel boutiques. And as this was one of his stepfather's hotels, he also knew the dress would have cost a lot of money. Had Saffi paid for it herself or had Carson paid for it? Jealousy flared, hot and dangerous, but he forgot all about it when her music started to play and Saffi began to move.
Un-fucking-believable.
The crowd burst into laughter even as they clapped their hands.
He gaped, unable to believe that his very feminine, elegant, and charmingly awkward Saffi March was dancing to Psy's Gangnam Style.
When the song reached the chorus and Saffi actually went on doing the exact moves that Psy popularized in his music video, Staffan forgot all about keeping his fucking image intact. He burst into laughter.
Saffi gasped, knowing that sound. She whirled around. Everyone whirled around with her.
The pink-haired girl gasped and quickly reached for her iPod. The music died mid-beat.
Saffi couldn't stop staring. After last night, she should have been used to his looks. But if anything, being in his arms – knowing how freaking good he was in bed – just made him look even more gorgeous in her eyes. Staffan stood several feet away from her, taller than everyone else in the crowd and definitely more beautiful than everyone in the world. His hair was still wet, and he was again dressed beautifully in another three-piece ensemble. His hazel eyes gleamed as an amused smile formed on his lips.