Read When Fangirls Cry for Free Online Page B

American.
                The senator didn’t appear to mind the mocking tone to his voice. He only nodded, continuing in the same polite voice, “Thank you for accepting my invitation, even if it was on such short notice.” He gestured to the seating area at the side. “Shall we?”
                Staffan followed the old man, sitting only when the others had taken their seats. He was alone on the couch. Across him, the prince and Saffi’s oldest brother sat beside each other. The younger brother and Saffi’s father took the armrests flanking Staffan’s sides.
    In all, it was like the March family against him, a declaration that also meant they considered the prince a part of their family.
    Staffan’s eyes became cold, but his voice and smile were perfectly charming as he looked at the prince. “Jeremy Al-Atassi, isn’t it? Or should I call you Your Highness?”
    “Whichever you prefer,” the prince responded evenly.
                Cold fucking bastard , Staffan thought. If this was Saffi’s first love, then her taste had gotten a lot better by hooking up with him. At least Staffan was human. This one seemed like a fucking statue.
                “Mr. Aehrenthal, I’m assuming you know why we’ve invited you here.”
                “It was more like a fucking threat to be court-marshaled, but yeah, thanks for the invitation.” Staffan was grimly satisfied to see Silver March stunned at his use of invectives while the prince’s lips silently tightened. Yeah, well, this was the real him and he would not fucking change anything about who he was.
                “I apologize if that was how it seemed, but it was imperative we talk to you as soon as possible.”
                Somehow, the senator’s still-polite voice grated on his nerves, and Staffan just wanted everything to be over. He didn’t fucking need any of the Marches in his life. They had done enough fucking damage, and he doubted he would ever trust a woman again after the number Saffi had done on him.
                But before he could speak, the fucking prince leaned forward, saying in a hard voice, “I’m not the father.”
                “I don’t give a fuck.”
                Everyone except Saffi’s oldest brother reacted to his words.
                The senator whitened, Silver’s face went cold, and Jeremy’s fists clenched, the air in the room suddenly alive with tension.
                Staffan gazed at the prince challengingly, knowing the smirk on his lips would be grating on the other man’s noble nerves. “Throw the first punch,” he invited softly. “And I’ll be more than glad to fucking give you a taste of my own fist.”
                “Unfortunately, that would have to be postponed, however much I look forward to seeing you beaten up myself.” It was the first time for Steel March to speak, his name perfectly apt to describe the way he spoke and gazed at Staffan. There was no compromise, no emotion in his aristocratic-looking face.
                “I will get to the point, Mr. Aehrenthal. You will marry my sister tomorrow---”
                Staffan jerked in his seat.
                “Or your family reads reports about you taking advantage of a nineteen year old.”
                “I didn’t even fucking know she was nineteen,” he said tightly.
                “You know now, Mr. Aehrenthal, but I doubt it makes a difference to you. The fact of the matter is, you care about your mother and stepfather – and it is perhaps the only positive trait you have. We also both know that over the years, you have worked hard to ensure that your younger brother and sister remain unaffected by your, shall we say, notoriety. But the news of you practically raping a teenager, one whose childhood trauma is fairly well-known in our circles---are you willing to