When Fangirls Lie (9 page)

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Aehrenthal Fanatics commented, You go, slut! =P
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“Excuse me, I need to talk to Alan Carson? Do you know where he is?” Even to her ears, the question sounded surreal. A plane wasn’t supposed to be like a freaking mall a person would get lost in it but that was exactly what had happened.

Staffan’s private jet was beyond the stretch of her imagination. All the walls were covered in cream leather and wood panels. The jet also had its own game room and library and of course a recording studio. Not even the greatest rockstars could afford this, but of course Staffan wasn’t just a rockstar. His stepfather also happened to head one of the world’s most famous resort and theme park corporations, and it was no secret that the billionaire CEO thought of Staffan as his own son.

Her parents were embarrassingly rich as well, but Pearl’s conservative upbringing ensured that all of them kept a low profile. Only Steel traveled on his own private jet but only for emergency occasions. And since he was tempered by their mother’s Americanized ideas of
noblesse oblige,
Steel’s jet was also a lot smaller than this.

The four people in the cabin she had sort of trespassed her way into were gawking. Finally, the only lady in the group – a pink-haired woman whose bubble-blowing skills Saffi envied – popped her gum and said, “I think he’s with the tech crew at the very back. Just go straight. You’ll see all the electronic stuff and that’s the right place.”

“Thanks!” She gave them a quick awkward smile, trying not to mind how they were still gawking before speeding further down the plane.

Behind her, Saffi was unaware that the four people had already scrambled out of the cabin, intent on spreading the word that the boss’ newest G had “left the building” in search of her boy toy Alan Carson.

Saffi chewed her lip. By now, Staffan would probably be wondering why it was taking her so long to get back to him. Saffi had only excused herself to go to the restroom, but in truth she just felt it wasn’t right for her to hang out with him. Although they weren’t alone, the others – like Eddie, his choreographer, and the rest of his vocal backups – had something important to contribute to the tour. She didn’t.

When she finally reached the area where the tech crew was checking the equipment, there was no sign of Alan. All ten of them came to a standstill at the sight of her. “Excuse me. Is Alan Carson around?”

They silently pointed to the door at the back, still gaping. Her head bobbing in thanks, she sped past them, again not seeing how everyone was in a mad scramble to spread the word among the rest of the crew that the Sex God seemed to have lost his touch.

Saffi quietly opened the door and flipped the light switch when darkness greeted her.

“Murderous mackerel.”

Alan was engaged in a passionate embrace.

With another man.

~~~

“Boss? I think we have another problem.” Bob was at the doorway again, glancing over his shoulder like escape from a madman was impossible.

The worst kind of déjà vu hit Staffan. Cursing under his breath, he said, “It’s H again, isn’t it?”

Bob slowly nodded.

“What’s it this time?”

“It’s not been confirmed,” Bob hedged. “But I’ve been hearing things---”

“Just spill it.”

“I’ve been hearing stuff from the crew, boss. They say she’s, err, with the dancer Carson and they’re, err, engaged in private business.”

Staffan saw red.

“Where. Are. They.”

“Boss, how about I check it out first---”

“Goddammit, Bob. If you don’t fucking tell me where they are right now, I’m going to beat it out of you instead.”

Bob flinched. Although he knew it wasn’t a real threat, the voice reminded him too much of how Staffan had been in the past, right after his most god-awful breakup with The Cougar. Before his employer’s almost miraculous overnight change three months ago, Staffan had been a mess, drinking himself to death and involved with every brawl he encountered – which there was a lot of since Staffan had spent practically every night in bars – and behind bars.

Bob opened his mouth to say it. But no words came out. He wouldn’t have cared what happened to other Gs, but this one was different. He knew it – everyone knew it. Only the boss didn’t seem to know it – or didn’t want to know it. “Boss---”

Staffan lost patience. His voice was chilling and low as he spoke. “Bob. You owe your fucking loyalty to me. Your concern for the girl is touching – but misplaced. Since I didn’t fucking kill Chloe when she betrayed me, I won’t fucking lose my head over whatever this is.”

Bob gave in. “They say she’s at the back, inside a locked room with Carson---”

A white-faced Staffan walked past him.

Dammit to hell, Saffi March. What the fuck happened to make you so crazy tonight?

~~~

Alan and the other man broke apart almost violently, panic written all over their faces. “What the hell are you doing here, Sapphire?”

She stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know---I was looking, and then I saw…” She stopped speaking, realizing she wasn’t making any sense at all.

The other man Alan was with didn’t look like a dancer, with dorky glasses and a rather scrawny build. He looked more like a cute grad school student, someone who absolutely had no business traveling with a European rockstar on tour.

Seeing her staring, he offered her his hand. “Hi. I’m Donovan,” he said with a slightly strained smile.

They shook hands. “I’m...”

“Sapphire March,” Alan muttered. “The girl with the worst kind of luck---”

“Alan!” Donovan snapped when he saw the look of hurt flash over Sapphire’s face.

Alan had the grace to look shamefaced. Running an agitated hand through his hair, he muttered, “Sorry, Sapphire.”

“It
is
true anyway.”

Alan looked even guiltier. “Dammit, Sapphire, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He gestured to Donovan. “I’m just…what we have, who we are, it’s a secret.”

She nodded, having already deduced the same thing for herself the moment she saw the two kissing in the dark. “I promise I won’t tell.” She paused. “But please---don’t tell Staffan the truth about me either?”

Alan’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean he doesn’t know who you are?”

She had to smile. “Don’t sound so surprised, Alan. Being a Senator’s daughter doesn’t make me famous.”

“But you’re also Steel and Silver March’s kid sister.”

“Their very boring sister, who used to be the black sheep of the entire March clan.”

Alan flushed. At that moment, he remembered with uncomfortably vivid clarity how life had been like for Saffi back when they were kids. No one had wanted to talk to her because they hadn’t wanted to look stupid next to Saffi, who had completed high school when she was 12 and college at 16.

Back then, the most popular girl in their circle, Vania Coolidge, had loved humiliating Saffi. And all of them had stood by because it had been easier to do that. Saffi had made it harder for them to help her, with her eccentricities.

His lips twitched when he remembered the first words she said. “Murderous mackerel, Sapphire?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I still think of fish when I’m overly emotional or whatever.”

Alan tried not to look too guilty at her words. He had indirectly been one of the reasons why Saffi had been so “emotional” in those days. Even at a young age, Saffi had been already lovely, too, inside and out. Everything about her was the opposite of what rich kids were supposed to be. She had never held a grudge against any of them, not even after what happened during their graduation ball, with Saffi as the guest of honor---Alan shuddered. It still qualified as the most horrible night of his life.

A loud pounding on the door made them jump in surprise.

“What the---” Donovan exclaimed.

“Are you fucking in there, H?”

Saffi squeaked in shock.

Knowing he only had seconds to spare, Alan hissed, “Remember your promise!”

“I promise. And you promise, too.”

Alan nodded. “I keep my word, Sapphire.”

Her eyes widened at the name he used. “Alan! Don’t call me---” She ended up shrieking instead when the door smashed open. Rather, Staffan had kicked it open. He came in, looking beautiful and furious in a three-piece suit. How was it possible for a human being to be so swooningly exquisite? He really was Mr. Rockstar Chic.

Staffan’s eyes found hers, the emotions swirling in it making her swallow.

Well, make that Mr. Angry Rockstar Chic.

“I can explain,” she said in a small voice.

“Really?” he drawled out. It was all Staffan could manage since every part of him was itching to smash Carson’s face. And what the fuck was Donovan Bradley doing here? What the fuck had he walked into – a goddamn ménage a trois?

“We were just talking. Alan---”

He seethed at hearing Saffi mention another man’s name.

“---and I are friends from way back.”

“Is that so?” he asked silkily. “What kind of friends?”

Her eyes widened. “No, no, not like that! Oh my God, no!”

Staffan raised a brow. “And I should believe you because?”

Alan said nervously, “We did not do anything---”

“Get the fuck out, you two.” He didn’t spare the boys a glance. Fucking boys. He should have an all-girl dance backup instead next time.

Alan and Donovan couldn’t get out fast enough.
Sorry,
Alan mouthed to her.

It’s okay,
she mouthed back.

When she looked back at Staffan, his eyes had become even chillier.

The green-eyed monster inside him had never been fiercer, and all Staffan wanted was to pull Saffi to him and mark her body in every way he could. He wanted to fuck her until she lost consciousness, wanted to see the dreamy smile back on her face – the smile that should only be for him.

“We didn’t really do anything,” she said urgently.

“Why the fuck should I believe you when you didn’t tell me where you’re going, you locked yourself inside this fucking room with two men---”

“Because I can prove it,” she blurted out.

He stilled.

This should be interesting.

He lifted a brow.

She gulped. When they said that starting anything with a lie could only continue with more lies --- it was true, and it was happening now.

“I’m a very, very, in demand groupie.”

Staffan did his best not to roll his eyes.

“I do all sorts of stuff. Like, umm, mouth jobs – I mean blow jobs.” She lifted her chin just so he wouldn’t know how she was completely winging everything. “And hand jobs, foot jobs, even umm, anal jobs.”

Two parts of Staffan’s body twitched: his lips…and his cock.

“But one thing I didn’t do with, umm, any of the Celsius guys---”