Page 67 of I Would Die for You

“You made me believe that I was special,” she says, digging the pointed end into her palm. “That you’d picked me out for a reason.”

Ben looks at her wide-eyed, as tiny pinpricks of sweat glisten on his upper lip. His mouth opens wordlessly as blood drips onto the cream-colored carpet. If it hurts, Cassie can’t feel it, the emotional pain of his deceit far greater than any physical discomfort.

“But if you’re telling me that I can’t have you…”

She lifts the knife up and in one swift rush of air brings it down.

“No!” roars Ben, lifting his arms to intercept it, but it’s too late. There’s a sickening ripping sound as the blade penetrates flesh, and they hold on to each other as they both fall to the floor.

32

As Nicole walks through the plush lobby of the Langham hotel, she questions for the hundredth time why she’s come. It’s been a week since Ben turned up at her house in the middle of the night. A week since she told him never to contact her again. And a week of regretting it. But with everything else going on, she knows it was the right decision. So how come she’s allowed him to talk her into coming to see him?

She spent the entire train journey trying to convince herself it was because of the music they made together. They’ve created something special—of that she is sure—and, for her part, she’s not prepared to give that up just because he can’t control his roving eye.

And as she walks along the corridor, her pumps sinking into the deep-pile carpet, she reasons that that’sallshe’s here for. They should never have crossed the line into a personal relationship; it was a mistake and one that she’s berated herself for ever since. She only hopes he has come to the same realization.

Taking a deep breath, Nicole flicks her hair behind her shoulders and stands tall, as if hoping it will give her all the resolve she needs. She must not allow herself to be distracted by the magnetic pull of Ben’s captivating presence, as irresistible as she finds it.

Checking she’s at the right room, she knocks on the door, her stomach somersaulting at the rush of movement from the other side.

“Oh, hello,” says a girl, raising her eyebrows expectantly as she stands there in a white toweling robe.

Nicole is momentarily frozen, looking between the number on the door and the girl’s Cheshire cat grin, as she tries to recall where she might have seen her before. Because she’s sure she has.

“Are you room service?” asks the girl, looking Nicole up and down impertinently before she even has a chance to construct a sentence.

There’s no doubt that it’s the right room, but the sight of the messy, unmade bed that she can’t help but picture Ben and this girl rolling around in suggests that nothing about this is right at all.

“Erm, no, sorry…” she says, her brain racing to catch up to her mouth. “I was told to come to 756, but you’re not who I was expecting to see.” She laughs awkwardly. “I must have been given the wrong room number.”

“Oh, are you here for Ben’s suit alterations?” asks the girl.

His name on her lips hits Nicole’s windpipe like a sucker punch. She instinctively wants to buckle under the girl’s intense gaze, but she’ll be damned if Ben is going to make a fool of her a second time.

“He’s just in the shower,” says the girl, who with her asymmetric haircut reminds Nicole of Cyndi Lauper. “Come on in.”

Nicole can hear the rush of water from the bathroom, see the rise of steam escaping from underneath the closed door. “I-I don’t think…” She starts backing away.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” says the girl, taking her by the hand. “He’s honestly just a normal guy, and he really needs his trousers taken up, otherwise I won’t be seen dead on his arm tonight.”

Her laughter gets lost in the kaleidoscope of emotions that assaults Nicole’s senses—confusion, anger, humiliation—but there’s something else: a sound that’s trying to penetrate her ears, even though she knows she doesn’t want it to.

It’s not the girl knocking on the bathroom door or her calls of “Babe, hurry up!” It’s not even her coy insinuation that they’re running behind schedule because they’ve just got out of bed. It’s the distant strum of a guitar, the lilting voice of a woman singing about a lost love, the thundering realization that it’shersong playing on the stacked mini hi-fi in the corner of the room.

“Is that…?” she starts, the words catching in her throat as she looks at the speakers that seem to be goading her.

The girl looks at her wide-eyed. “Oops,” she says, rushing to turn it off. “I don’t think Ben will want anyone listening to the new single.”

“Th-that’s his new single?” Nicole says hoarsely, the words feeling like razors on her tongue.

“It’s coming out in a couple of weeks,” says the girl, putting a conspiratorial finger to her lips. “But it would be more than my life’s worth if you tell anyone I’ve told you.”

Nicole stands there, clutching at her chest, trying to stop her heart from feeling as if it’s being ripped out.

Ben had obviously forgotten how hard he’d had to beg her to come and see him three days ago, having taken a better offer in the meantime. She thinks back to every empty promise he made to her then; his reassurance that he’d not looked at another girl since they’d been together, that she was the only one for him, that he wanted to make music with her for evermore… How fickle his heart must be; how quickly he forgets. But then she remembers how his assistant had called just this afternoon to let her know that he was running late and had changed rooms.

So, he couldn’t have merely forgotten; he must have brought her here on purpose, with the sole intention of causing maximum hurtand humiliation. How could he be so cruel? And what had she done to deserve him treating her so badly?

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