Page 65 of I Would Die for You

If she’d stopped to think about what she was doing, perhaps she would have talked herself out of it, but there’s no time for that now—she’s past the point of no return. Her fingers are tingling, and her heart is thumping so loudly that if she doesn’t act on what the voices in her head are telling her, she’ll never forgive herself. Shehasto do this, if not only to prove that she can.

There’s a momentary pause after she’s knocked on the door of room 628, and she shimmies down the front of her body suit, allowing her assets to be shown off to their best advantage, albeit heavily assisted by her padded bra.

“Hey,” says Ben, swinging the door open with a wide smile. Though his high spirits last only a split second before his face clouds over with confusion. “Oh,” he says, looking Cassie up and down.

“I heard this is where the party’s at,” she says, waiting for him to recognize her.

“Er, I think you’ve got the wrong room,” he says, looking down the corridor as if hoping he can telepathically summon security.

“Oh,” says Cassie, unable to disguise her hurt. “I’m sure Michael said it was in 628.”

Ben’s jaw spasms involuntarily.

“I’m with Samantha Redgrave,” says Cassie, hating him for making her fall back on Plan B. “We’re meeting here.”

“I’ll see if I can find out where you’re meant to be,” says Ben,turning his back and making his way to the phone beside the bed. Cassie follows him in and heads straight for the minibar, where a bottle of vodka sits unscrewed on the countertop.

“Hey, the party’s not in here,” says Ben, before he’s even had a chance to pick up the phone.

But Cassie ignores him and smiles as she pours three-inch measures into two glass tumblers. “I think that’s what you said last time, just before we got off our faces at the Savoy after your Wembley gig.”

“You weretherethat night?” Ben asks, with more than a hint of suspicion, though whether it’s because he doubts her or because he knows she may have a story that will cause shock waves in the wrong hands, Cassie can’t quite make out.

“Yeah, it was wild,” she says, going to the door and kicking it shut with the heel of her white stiletto.

“Look, I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” says Ben, as Cassie hands him a glass.

She smarts at how easily he can lie to her. “No worries—I’ll get out of your hair just as soon as I’ve finished this.” She smiles, because he has no idea how long it’s going to take her.

“I don’t remember seeing you there that night,” says Ben, eyeing her as he nervously sips his drink.

She shakes her head, still unable to understand how he could have forgotten who she is. The hackles on the back of her neck stand up at his lack of respect, but as she moves slowly toward him, she softens at the thought of being able to show him all over again why she’s going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“We were drunk and high,” she says. “But from what I remember, we were having a good time.” She raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to catch on, but he looks at her blankly.

“I’m clean now,” he says, by way of excuse.

“Not quite,” she says, clinking his glass with hers. “Another?”

She tops his glass up without waiting for a response. It feels like she has an advantage over him if he’s drunk.

“So, I see you’ve been keeping yourself busy…” she starts, falling onto the over-plumped floral settee, “if the papers are anything to go by.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Just another wannabe chancing her arm for a turn in the spotlight… It’s all bollocks, and I intend to prove it.”

His strength of conviction takes Cassie by surprise. “What are you going to do?” she asks.

“I’ve got someone on the case,” he says, pacing up and down. “People can’t be allowed to make shit up about me and get away with it. They need to be exposed for the charlatans that they are.”

“I get that,” says Cassie. “But you might open yourself up to even bigger problems…”

His brow knits with confusion and his eyes are filled with apprehension, as if waiting for her to reveal her hand. “How so?” he says, hesitantly.

“Well, there’s no point in protesting your innocence in one corner, only for them to find out that you were hauled to the police station on suspicion of drug offenses in another.”

“And how would they findthatout?” he asks. “It was over two months ago.”

“Yeah, but there were quite a few people there when it happened, and it only takes one of them to spill—I’m surprised they haven’t already.”

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