Eternally Seduced (48 page)

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.

And then he chuckled, as if unable to help it.

She could just die from sheer happiness at that sound. Staffan wasn’t the type to smile, to chuckle, to laugh – but he did all three just now. She knew enough of his background to understand why he had such a hard time showing happiness and the fact that he did now – that she was the cause of it – was incredible. It made her head reel.

Staffan started to move, and with his long-legged strides, it took only a fraction of a time for him to stand right in front of her, making Saffi absolutely breathless at his nearness alone. He smelled divine. He
was
divine.

His nostrils flared at the way Saffi’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, making her look like she couldn’t get enough of him. But that was good. In fact, it was fucking perfect since he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon.

He took her braid, running his fingers on its twisted strands and enjoying its silky smooth texture. He murmured huskily, “You win, Saffi.”

It took a moment before the words sank in. Saffi’s eyes widened, Mitch gasped, but the crowd went berserk. Bob nodded at his security team to escort the other woman out before she could cause trouble. The warning gazes from the two men clutching her arms kept her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help glaring at Saffi over her shoulder even as she was dragged away, promising herself silently that this was not going to be the end.

Saffi was utterly oblivious to what had just happened, and even the loud cheers of Staffan’s crew didn’t entirely reach her. All she could see, hear, and feel had to do with the divinely gorgeous man standing in front of her. “Y-you know what we were doing?”

Still holding the braid, he teased, “A dance off with me as a prize?”

She blushed, forgetting for the moment that Gs didn’t blush so easily.

Staffan smirked. “I hate to tell you this, H, but you sucked.”

She smiled sheepishly. “But you still chose me as a winner, though.”

“Not because you danced better.” He leaned close. “It’s because you’re the only woman I want to fuck right now.”

Her heart tripped at his words. Looking up at him, Saffi wondered if Staffan had any idea of how his eyes were giving her a completely different message from how he had acted last night. But then it didn’t matter. She was in love with him either way.

Staffan tugged at her braid. “This is a very unusual hairstyle for a groupie, H.”

Oops
.

She stammered, “It’s daytime. I only, umm, go for wilder styles at night.”

He coughed. “I see.”

She tried not to look flustered. God, that was so lame.

He tugged her braid again. “Since you won the dance off, I’m going to give you a prize, too.”

Saffi squealed, unable to help it.

Staffan coughed harder. How could she be so smart and yet so naïve at the same time? Did she really think she could fool anyone with her ridiculous cover-up as a G? No self-respecting groupie would squeal like a five-year-old getting her first Barbie just because she was promised a prize.

Without attempting to lower his voice, wanting every man in the vicinity to hear and know just who Saffi March belonged to, Staffan said simply, “You get to fuck me.” Before she had time to gasp, he added in a matter-of-fact voice, “Now.”

And then he was sweeping her in his arms and taking Saffi to the nearest room with a door that could be locked – which happened to be the office of the day manager for the concert venue.

Staffan dealt the other man a look. “I need your office. Now.”

Saffi bit back a groan of embarrassment, hiding her flushed face in the crook of his neck.

The day manager wasn’t stupid. He hurried out without a word, knowing that Staffan Aehrenthal was a man to be obeyed at all costs.

Staffan kicked the door shut. “Ready to be fucked?” he asked as he let Saffi down.

In answer, she wriggled out of her panties and placed it on the table.