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
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
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