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Chapter Five
“Cheers to Saffi!” Thesound of glass tinkling against each other filled the room as everyone toasted to Saffi March-Aehrenthal’s pregnancy, an event anticipated not only by the celebrating couple but also by the millions of fans who idolized her husband, Staffan Aehrenthal, the world’s most famous rockstar and Sweden’s #1 Sex God.
It was the last night of the two other couples in Europe, with both due to fly back to the States the next day. Mary had personally arranged for tonight’s dinner, a small thing to do considering the fact that Saffi was the reason she had been able to meet Rathe.
For tonight’s celebration, she had reserved the entire penthouse floor of one of London’s tallest skyscrapers, gifting them with a magnificent view of the city.
As she instructed the head of the waiting staff to serve the desserts, Mary heard more clicking sounds from Saffi’s phone, making her rockstar husband groan. “Not another fucking photo.”
The words made Mary smile as she faced the others. Sometimes, it still felt so surreal to find herself friends with such amazing people. Even Saffi herself was famous in her own right, being the only daughter of Senator Samuel March and a descendant of the Beaufort family.
“Sorry,” Mary heard Saffi apologizing with a sheepish grin. “I can’t help it. I just have to...”Click.
Saffi’s head bowed as her fingers flew on the screen of her iPhone. “Done,” she exclaimed several moments later.
Mary’s phone beeped, and she tried her best to stifle her laugh when she realized what it was. Clicking on the notification, she was taken to Saffi’s tweet. Her friend had shared the photo with her followers, and Mary read the caption out loud. “The Three Pussketeers’ last night in London. Say it with me: They. Are. So. Gorg.”
This time, all three Pussketeers groaned, with Staffan, Rathe, and Constantijin Kastein, who was also known as Netherlands’ #1 Playboy and an infamously ruthless business tycoon, turning to Saffi with exasperation in their gazes.
Saffi flashed them a peace sign, mumbling, “Umm...don’t get mad. Coz...I’m...umm...pregnant?”
The excuse worked, the groans abruptly coming to a stop.
“Your wife is too smart,” Constantijin remarked to Staffan with a resigned shake of his head.
Rathe nodded in agreement.
Pulling Saffi gently onto his lap, Staffan warned her half-seriously, “Make that the last photo, though. Contrary to what you think, the worldcanget enough of us.”
“No one can ever get enough of you,” his young wife countered loyally.
Her heart twinged at the exchange between Staffan and Saffi. She was happy, really happy for the two of them. But at the same time, she couldn’t help comparing their relationship with hers and Rathe—-
It didn’t make her feel sad.
But it did make her feelscared.
No matter how much she wanted to deny the truth, the fear was there. A part of her was still terrified the day that Rathe falling in love her would never come.
“Hey.”
Startled, Mary turned her head to find Yanna, wife to Constantijin, standing next to her. An attractive brunette, Yanna was a confident woman in her mid-twenties, with a cheeky sense of humor that never failed to set everyone laughing.
Mary asked, “Is there s-something I c-could do for you?”
Yanna quickly shook her head. “Oh, no, no. I just thought we hadn’t much time to chat, the two of us.” Aware of how shy the younger girl was, Yanna chose her next words carefully. “So...how are you finding England so far?”
“It’s...different,but it’s also nice. Much cooler than F-florida, which I like.”
Yanna wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, it can get really humid back home. I totally don’t miss that.”
