Page 46 of I Would Die for You

“It’s Bubbles!” shrills the girl next to Cassie, taking her Instamatic camera and winding it on.

Once upon a time, Cassie would have killed to be up close andpersonal to the man who brought herThrillerand the dance routine that her mother had spent hours teaching her. But all she can think of right now is the promised arrival of Ben Edwards.

The band had gone to ground for the best part of a month, ever since the album launch, and the official word from the record company was that they were holed away, making bonus tracks. But Cassie and Amelia have been to the studio they usually frequent and there’s been no sign of them. She only needs to see himonceto know that what they shared on the night of the police raid still stands. That her pledge to stand by him is still deserved.

He’d disappeared so quickly that night at the museum—no doubt whisked away by security guards before he could say goodbye—that she hadn’t had a chance to give him her phone number. And without being able to track him down since, she’d been left in an excruciating sense of limbo, knowing thatshecouldn’t reach him, andhecouldn’t reach her.

How hadhebeen managing, she wondered. Having to trust that she would eventually find a way to contact him—he must have felt so powerless.

There’s an uptick in anticipation as girls on the other side of the red carpet become restless and agitated. From their vantage point, they get a sneak preview of a leg or an arm as the car door opens. Shrill shrieks ring out when a cowboy boot makes its mark on the ground. There’s no other movement for what feels like a minute as the suspense is intentionally ramped up.

“It’s Micky,” says Amelia, an authority on the subject.

Butterflies take flight in Cassie’s stomach. This has felt like such a long time coming, and her excitement is infused with a tangible relief that she and Ben are finally going to be together again.

The crowd goes wild as Michael lifts his six-foot frame out of the car, and he milks it for all it’s worth. Despite the long line of limos queuing up behind his, he keeps them waiting as he ducks in and out of the blacked-out back seat, as if playing a game of cat and mouse.

“He’s such a wind-up,” says Amelia, smiling, while Cassie just wishes he’d move on so they can get to the main event of the evening.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” says Michael over-theatrically. “May I present Samantha Redgrave…”

Photographers fall over themselves to capture the coming together of one of the country’s biggest pop stars and the current Page Three model of the year.

“What the…?” says Amelia, as Samantha steps out in a full-length fur, despite the heat.

As soon as she’s found the perfect spot on the red carpet, Samantha makes an elaborate show of peeling the coat tantalizingly slowly off her shoulders, before dropping it to the floor to reveal a sheer dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“I can’t believe it,” says Cassie, knowing that Amelia had held as high hopes for her and Michael tonight as she did for herself and Ben.

Though, if she were honest, the likelihood of Michael seeing Amelia as anything more than an easy lay was doubtful. But she would never say that to her friend, and they’d happily spent the past month fantasizing with great enthusiasm about how the four of them would secretly meet in London, giving the ever-present paparazzi the slip so they could nurture their fledgling relationships.

Amelia’s lips pull tight and her nostrils flare. “Bastard.”

“It might not mean anything,” placates Cassie. “It might just be a publicity stunt.”

“He’s making me look stupid,” seethes Amelia. “He can’t just pick me up and put me down whenever he feels like it.”

Cassie sucks in a relieved breath, suddenly grateful that she and Ben hadn’t had a chance to do anything other than talk before the police burst into the hotel room. She may have spent every second since wishing that they had, but if she wanted to be different from every other girl and earn his respect, then she’d played it right. She didn’t want to be a one-night stand; she wanted to be his girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry,” she says to Amelia. “But I’m sure it’s all for show. I’ll have a word with Ben if you like—he’ll know what’s going on.”

Amelia nods, biting down on her bottom lip, as if to hold back tears.

“Oh my god, here he is,” says Cassie in a rush, any thoughts of her friend’s heartbreak already forgotten.

Dressed in black-leather trousers and a chained waistcoat, Ben’s eyes scan the crowd as if looking for her.

“Over here!” she calls out, jostling to the front, so that he can see her.

His whole face breaks into a smile, so delighted to be reconciled. He walks toward her and Cassie wonders if he might just kiss her here and now, in front of the world. She prepares herself for the eventuality and reaches out for him, but he stops just short to greet a woman with a microphone, kissing her on both cheeks before moving to stand next to her for the cameras.

“Alesha, good to see you again,” he says, with a megawatt grin. “How are you?”

“All the better for seeing you,” says the woman, blushing.

Cassie keeps the welcoming smile she’d proffered fixed to her face, but the corners of her mouth are twitching against the possibility that this isn’t going to play out quite as she’d expected. The sexual chemistry between Ben and the other woman could power the entire evening’s event, and Cassie can only assume that it’s the consequence of a previous liaison. Because she won’t allow herself to imagine it might be the prelude to an encounter yet to come.

“Secret Oktober are up for two awards this evening,” says Alesha, losing herself in Ben’s come-to-bed eyes. “Which is the most important to you? Best Album or Best Group?”

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