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Idol
Carrie Duffy


A hugely entertaining and glamorous debut, perfect for fans of the X-Factor, from an exciting voice in young women’s fictionMeet Jenna Jonsson and Sadie Laine: two gorgeous, glamorous twenty-somethings fighting to make it to the top of their chosen professions.Beautiful and talented, Jenna is an international pop star, determined to take her career to the next level. And when a chance meeting leads to an opportunity for Jenna to work with world-famous rock band Phoenix, Jenna is quick to agree – although her decision is somewhat influenced by Nick Taylor, the drummer with Phoenix and the most gorgeous man Jenna has ever met…Meanwhile, Sadie is a struggling dancer and a childhood rival of Jenna's. Ambitious and passionate, she is determined to fulfil her dreams. And a move to Las Vegas yields an unmissable career opportunity and a chance at true love.Jenna and Sadie's lives are about to collide but will sparks fly? Or will they be able to put the past behind them?









Carrie Duffy

Idol

















Copyright


This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Copyright © Caroline Duffy 2011.

Caroline Duffy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and techological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780007421503

Ebook Edition © MAY 2011 ISBN: 9780007421527

Version: 2017-09-21


To my Mum and Dad.

Although you probably shouldn’t read this.




Contents


Cover (#udebbf691-ae81-5883-986c-ed677b5d8ca6)

Title Page (#u6da9ae68-9e09-57f0-b2fd-2959c067fcee)

Copyright

Part One

1

The bulletproof limo sped down London’s Park Lane, making a…

2

Sadie Laine was curled up on her sagging single bed,…

3

‘Absolutely no way.’

4

It was a glorious spring afternoon in the City. Shafts…

5

Despite her protestations to the contrary, Jenna did care what…

6

Despite Jenna’s change of clothing, the following day’s recording was…

7

‘Ryan?’ asked Jenna.

8

The offices of Willis & Bourne were located on the twenty-fourth…

9

‘Jenna, what the fuck is going on?’ Gerry King screamed…

10

Sadie was completely naked beneath her short, beige trench coat.

11

The day after the scandal broke, Jenna found herself in…

12

Jenna was packing, and the room was in chaos.

13

It was a scene from Jenna’s nightmares.

14

‘I fucking love Vegas!’ Sadie screeched at the top of…

15

Jenna was woken by the glorious sun streaming through her…

16

The telephone rang loudly and insistently. Sadie felt as though…

17

Sadie staggered through the door of The Play Rooms wearing…

18

Jenna stood in front of the antique mirror in her…

19

‘Jesus,’ swore Nick. The group stood motionless, watching the spot…

20

For Sadie and Carla, the drive back to McCarran International…

Part Two

21

‘Diamonds …’ Sadie purred into the microphone, as she crooned…

22

High above Las Vegas in the inky night sky, the…

23

The Colosseum at Caesars Palace is a spectacular building at…

24

‘No fucking way.’ Sadie paced up and down beside the…

25

The Night of a Thousand Stars had exploded into life.

26

Sadie froze. Her heart rate tripled. Had Jenna just said…

27

Fireworks exploded, lighting up the night sky above The Colosseum…

28

Jenna flipped open her illuminated compact and scrutinized her reflection.

Part Three

29

The Hon. Vivian Cavendish Spencer emerged from the elegant restaurant…

30

Dawn was breaking over New York City, the sun filtering…

31

The sound of laughter rang out across the dark Hawaiian…

32

Ryan had loaded his plate with food from the barbecue…

33

Zac stormed along the beach, oblivious to the stunning Hawaiian…

34

The sun danced off the Thames as Jenna and Zac’s…

35

‘What’s happening?’ Jenna stared at Angela in horror.

36

‘Tyrone?’ Sadie asked in disbelief. She was so exhausted that…

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher



PART ONE




1


The bulletproof limo sped down London’s Park Lane, making a left as it swept up to the entrance of the Dorchester Hotel.

Jenna Jonsson peered out through the tinted windows in disbelief. Everywhere she looked she saw crowds of people – hysterical fans pressed tightly against the metal crash barriers screaming her name, the waiting paparazzi poised for the killer shot.

Jenna inhaled sharply, her dazzling green eyes widening in astonishment. She was 23 years old and breathtakingly beautiful, the hottest property in the music world right now.

‘My God, it’s crazy,’ she murmured to herself.

Gerry King, her manager, looked over. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ Jenna insisted, trying to fight the feelings of insecurity rising in her chest. It was her first major event following a well-publicized break, and being back on the scene was overwhelming.

‘Don’t worry. You look sensational,’ Gerry reassured her.

He wasn’t lying. Her skin was tanned and flawless, her incredible body encased in shimmering Roberto Cavalli, cut high on the thigh and slashed heart-stoppingly low at the front to reveal her magnificent cleavage. Diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, and a mass of glossy, blonde curls tumbled down her back. She was the epitome of raw sex appeal.

‘Thanks,’ Jenna smiled gratefully.

The car pulled to a halt and the silent, dark-suited security guard seated opposite her jumped out. Jenna watched as he spoke to the security team, his eyes scanning the tightly packed crowd, constantly alert for any possible threat. The fans were working themselves into a frenzy; in spite of the freezing winter weather they’d turned out in force, waving banners with her name and singing the chorus of ‘Sexual Rush’, her latest hit.

‘See you on the other side,’ winked Gerry, as the guard headed back across to the sleek limousine. At a signal from inside he opened the door. Then Jenna stepped out and the place erupted.

Flashbulbs exploded like firecrackers in the night sky, the noise from the crowd reaching a deafening roar as Jenna hit the red carpet on spike-heeled Jimmy Choos. It was as though someone had flicked a switch – the adrenaline kicked in and Jenna felt her nerves instantly vanish, shining like the superstar she was.

She placed a hand on her hip as she turned to face the cameras, catching her breath as she took in the sheer number. She could hardly believe that they were all there for her.

‘Jenna – over here!’ came a yell from the press pit where the world’s media, banked steeply on their step-ladders, waited eagerly for their piece of her.

Instinctively Jenna broke into an irresistible smile, her lips full and glossy, her eyes sparkling with excitement. This was the shot that would grace every tabloid front cover the following morning – Jenna Jonsson, the newly crowned princess of pop, fresh from her unprecedented victory at the MTV Europe Awards where she’d just won an incredible six gongs.

‘Jenna, what can you tell us about the rumours you’ve split with Will?’

Jenna froze. Her smile died on her lips, the pain in her eyes impossible to hide.

‘I … I really don’t want to talk about that …’ Jenna began hesitantly, the memories of Will’s infidelity still fresh in her mind. Horrified, she felt tears prick at her eyelids and she bit down hard on her lip. ‘… But what I will say is that I have no ties, no commitments, and I intend to enjoy myself tonight. Bring on the champagne!’

Jenna’s pulse was racing, her breath coming fast, as she heard the reporters rush to share the news with fans watching all over the globe.

‘You heard it here first, folks. Jenna Jonsson exclusively confirmed to us that she has split with Will Rothwell, son of multi-millionaire property developer Charles Rothwell. That’s right guys, Jenna’s back on the market …’

Pull it together, Jenna admonished herself, all too aware that every emotion would be magnified by the cameras. The question about Will had upset her more than she’d expected. She’d been counting on him to accompany her to the awards tonight; she needed that emotional support of having him on her arm. And then she’d found out he was cheating on her. The girl was just 17 years old, at boarding school with his younger sister. How fucking humiliating. Apparently he was finding it ‘difficult’ dating someone so successful, so he’d needed to screw some barely legal bimbo without an original thought in her head.

Jenna had told him to grow a pair of balls and walked out, shaking with anger. She was hurting badly, but she didn’t intend to give him the satisfaction of seeing her like that.

Will Rothwell was history, Jenna vowed. Tonight she had her mind on something – and someone – far bigger.

The rumour was that Phoenix were going to be attending the after-show party. A world-famous American rock band, with looks to die for and an insane amount of talent, Phoenix had exploded onto the scene five years ago and their reputation was wild. Jenna was beyond excited.

Get a grip, she told herself firmly.

With a final wave at the crowd and the drooling paps, Jenna let herself be guided into the hotel. It was a jaw-dropping sight and she stared round in awe, noting the way the marble floor shone like glass, the whole ballroom bathed in a soft, pink light. Huge vases of white lilies had been mounted on podiums and looked spectacular against the black and gold classical backdrop.

Jenna scanned the room, smiling in thanks as she accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Then she raised it to her lips and almost dropped it.

Christ, it was him. It was Nick Taylor.

Jenna’s pulse went into overdrive, her heart beating out of control. Nick Taylor was the drummer with Phoenix and the hottest guy on the planet – five feet eleven inches of strapping, blond good looks with piercing blue eyes and a killer smile to boot. To a London girl like Jenna, he looked like the ultimate American cowboy, with his powerful, muscular body and sexy, Southern accent. But Nick was more interested in riding women than horses. He exuded sexuality, smouldering with an animal magnetism that women seemed powerless to resist. And he did little to discourage them. Jenna wasn’t stupid – she’d heard the stories and knew that his womanizing was notorious. He was legendary for never being pictured with the same girl twice, yet the ladies still flocked to him, and Jenna was as smitten as any of them.

She was vaguely aware that someone was trying to speak to her, but she wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nick as she watched him make his way across the room, radiating confidence and charisma. The crowd pressed against him, the women vying for his attention. Jenna wasn’t surprised – he looked utterly gorgeous, devastatingly handsome in the Armani tux he was wearing. His bow tie was undone and thrown around his neck with an almost arrogant indifference; his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the smooth, tanned flesh beneath.

Then, almost as if he’d known exactly where she would be, Nick raised his head and looked straight into Jenna’s eyes. Her stomach went into freefall, a bolt of electricity surging through her as she heard herself gasp in shock. Nick’s face creased into a smile of recognition and he began slowly walking towards her. The sea of people parted to let him through – he didn’t even have to push, just walked with that easy swagger, the crowd moving naturally out of his way. And then suddenly he was standing right in front of her, so close that she could see every lash framing those amazing blue eyes, each curve of that luscious mouth …

‘Congratulations,’ Nick murmured. His voice was rich and gravelly, deliciously sexy.

‘Thanks,’ Jenna squeaked, horrified to discover her voice seemed to have gone up two octaves. Her heart was pounding and she knew her cheeks must be flushed. She lowered her head in embarrassment, not realizing how impossibly cute it made her look.

‘Good to finally meet you,’ Nick said smoothly, in that low, Southern drawl. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, his fingers resting lightly on her waist. Jenna was sure she would melt right there and then, dissolve into a puddle at his feet.

‘You too,’ she faltered. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, I heard you were coming and I hoped it was true but I didn’t know for sure …’ she raced on, mentally cursing herself for saying something so stupid.

‘Well I definitely noticed you were here.’ He looked her up and down with a slow, assessing and decidedly sexual gaze. Jenna felt the heat rising in her face as waves of lust flicked through her belly.

‘I …’ Jenna began, but she had no idea what she was trying to say. He was mesmerizing. If he’d taken her hand right there and then she would have followed him without hesitation.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

Someone beside them spoke and Jenna tore her gaze away to see Zac Knight, lead guitarist with Phoenix, standing with his arm around his supermodel girlfriend, Amber. Zac was almost as gorgeous as Nick, but in a very different way. Where Nick had classic boy-band good looks, Zac was the archetypal rock star, with his dark, wavy hair and razor-sharp cheekbones. His chocolate-brown eyes swept quickly over Jenna as he told her, ‘Amber’s been dying to meet you.’

Jenna thought she might hyperventilate. This was unprecedented!

Zac was legendary for avoiding industry events like this. He’d married young, before the band took off, and he’d been through a messy break-up with his wife, Jessica. He’d fallen head over heels for Amber when they met backstage at New York Fashion Week, wrestling with his conscience as he agonized over whether or not to leave his wife. Amber had finally solved the problem for him by breaking the story to Page Six of the New York Times and ensuring that a first-edition copy was hand-delivered to Jessica Knight. It was a hell of a way to learn that your marriage was over.

Jenna could still remember the vitriolic headlines and stared curiously at Amber, the woman who’d been labelled a home-wrecker for luring Zac away from his childhood sweetheart.

‘We met once before,’ Jenna told her breathlessly. ‘At a party in Marrakech.’

‘I don’t remember,’ Amber told her blankly, looking at her with an expression of disdain.

What a bitch! thought Jenna, returning the haughty stare.

Okay, so Amber was undoubtedly stunning, Jenna conceded grudgingly, as she took in the silver column dress that emphasized Amber’s slimness and poise. The sleek curtain of copper hair and flawless pale skin demonstrated why she had become the darling of the fashion pack – and why she had become Zac Knight’s girlfriend. But her attitude certainly left a lot to be desired, thought Jenna, bristling with indignation at the put-down.

‘Well, it’s great to meet you,’ Zac said lightly. His laid-back accent and relaxed manner quickly melted Jenna’s rigid expression. It was impossible to stay mad on a night like tonight, when she was standing between Zac Knight and Nick Taylor!

Very gently, almost possessively, Nick put a hand on her arm. It was a gesture of complete confidence, and Jenna caught her breath at the skin-on-skin contact.

‘I don’t wanna be greedy, but I think I’d like to monopolize you this evening,’ he said silkily, his gaze never leaving her face. Jenna felt her stomach flip-flop at the way he looked her over.

‘I guess we’ll catch up with you guys later,’ smiled Zac, as Amber slipped a wafer-thin arm around his waist.

‘Over here, baby, there’s some people I want to introduce you to. It was nice to meet you, Jenna’ Amber lied, steering Zac through the crowd as she led a chorus of exclamations and air kisses.

As Nick bent his head low to speak to her, Jenna thought she might pass out. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear, the intense contact making her skin tingle. And that accent! Phoenix were named after the band’s home city in Arizona, and all the guys spoke with a slow, sexy drawl. It was so fucking delicious, Jenna didn’t think she could ever get tired of it.

Amazingly, the crowd seemed to leave them alone. It was as though Nick Taylor’s presence acted as a barrier that no one dared penetrate. He was sending out a clear message that Jenna was his and no one else should touch her. She could barely believe that he knew who she was, let alone that he wanted to spend the evening monopolizing her, Jenna thought, a thrill of excitement shooting through her as she recalled his words.

‘So,’ Nick began, breaking into an easy smile that lit up his face and made his blue eyes sparkle. ‘Enjoyin’ the party?’

Life had always come easy to Nick. Since his school-days back in Arizona he’d had no trouble attracting the ladies, keeping the prettiest girls in class on a constant rotation. More interested in music than schoolwork, he found that being in a band sent his pulling power off the scale and he exploited it to the full. He’d even managed to juggle two girls on the night of his high-school prom, making Kacey Ann Kruger wait in line for fruit punch and hotdogs while he deflowered Tiffany Wilkinson in a dark corner of the parking lot.

‘Yeah – I mean, it looks amazing,’ Jenna gushed, ‘but I don’t seem to have had a minute to myself.’

‘Everyone’s trying to grab a piece of you, huh? I’m not surprised,’ Nick grinned, pointedly looking her over as he allowed his gaze to linger on that hand-span waist and those incredible breasts. Man, he certainly wouldn’t mind grabbing a piece of Jenna Jonsson.

‘So what are you up to at the moment?’ Nick asked casually. ‘Only me and the guys – well, you prob’ly heard what went down with Josh …’

Josh Starr was the lead singer with Phoenix and three days ago he’d quit the band. Rumours had been bubbling away in the press for months, with leaked reports that it had turned pretty nasty towards the end. Jenna was devastated.

‘You’re not splitting up, are you?’ she asked in alarm.

‘Hell, I don’t know. I don’t think so. I hope not anyway,’ finished Nick, his tone suddenly despondent. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the flurry of conversations around them. ‘We’ve talked about carrying on for a while – at least for another album – but with guest artists. A kinda collaborations project, I guess. But nothing’s official yet – it’s just an idea we’ve been throwing around.’

A thought suddenly occurred to Nick, and he began to speak before he could stop himself. ‘Why don’t you work with us on a track? It’d be awesome.’

‘Work with Phoenix?’ Jenna exclaimed, hardly able to believe what he was saying. It was her childhood dream come true! The opportunity to record with her heroes, to see the masters at work – and, of course, to spend an insane amount of time with Nick Taylor …

‘Are you sure? I mean, would the other guys want me?’

A sly grin spread across Nick’s face. ‘Yeah,’ he drawled. ‘We all want you.’ She looked so cute standing there, those huge, green, baby-doll eyes full of insecurity. On the one hand, she was a ball of energy, bristling with confidence and a mesmerizing sexuality, yet there was an air of vulnerability that couldn’t be hidden. He felt a strong urge to take her in his arms and protect her, and an equally strong urge to take her in his arms and fuck her brains out. Don’t think about that now, he warned himself, feeling himself start to get hard. He would come back to that later, when he was banging some groupie.

Jenna blushed, glancing away in embarrassment. He was ridiculously handsome, able to make her dizzy with a single look. ‘I’m such a huge fan,’ she rambled. ‘I’ve always loved your music, right since the beginning. This would just be a dream. I mean, I’d cancel everything to work with Phoenix.’

‘So is that a yes?’ Nick laughed.

‘Yes!’ Jenna exclaimed, her excitement impossible to hide as they clinked their champagne glasses to symbolically seal the deal. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’




2


Sadie Laine was curled up on her sagging single bed, in the boxroom of the East London house share she rented for an extortionate fee. The walls were damp, the paint was flaking, and the mattress she was sitting on smelt faintly of mould. It was not, Sadie thought with a growing sense of frustration, the kind of place she had dreamed of living when she was a child.

The old-fashioned TV blared in the corner. No swanky flat-screen for her, just an enormous monster of a thing that was a hand-me-down from her parents and took up all the room on her tiny dressing table. Sadie squinted at the screen as she wrapped her duvet tightly around her and snuggled into it. Her long, slim legs poked out of the end, and her feet were swathed in thick, pink socks. The radiator was on the blink again, and the landlord hadn’t yet made good on his promise to fix it.

Sadie let out a sigh as she pushed a few stray tendrils of hair away from her beautiful face. Her dark, glossy hair was roughly pulled back in a messy ponytail, perfectly framing her fine, angular features, but the crease between her eyebrows gave away her anxiety.

It’s not fair, she thought miserably, as she watched the glamorous scene play out on the TV screen in front of her. Breaking off another piece of chocolate from the slab beside her, she popped it into her mouth, not caring that she’d already tripled her daily calorie allowance.

Sadie was watching the highlights of the MTV Europe Awards, where at this moment Jenna Jonsson was speaking into the camera. She looked incredible as she chattered excitedly to the interviewer about how thrilled she was to have won. She threw out some inane cliché about how all of her dreams were coming true. Sadie pursed her lips and pressed mute on the remote.

All of Jenna’s dreams might have been coming true – life wasn’t working out quite so well for Sadie.

For as long as she could remember, all Sadie had ever wanted to do with her life was dance. From the moment she had slipped on the obligatory pink leotard for her first lesson in the local church hall, she knew she had found her passion. Growing up in the London suburb of Streatham with her younger brother and sister, there wasn’t a lot of money to spare, but her parents scrimped and saved, working extra shifts to ensure their beautiful, gifted daughter could pursue her dream.

It soon became clear that she was seriously talented, and by the time she hit her teens she was already competing on the national circuit, winning prizes in every category. Jazz, Latin, hip-hop – Sadie was a natural at every style she tried. She loved the way she could get lost in the music, relishing the grind of learning the routine and putting her own interpretation on it to make it truly individual – a hair flick here, a sashay of the hips there. Most of all, she adored the adulation of being up on stage, addicted to the adrenaline rush that came with performing. It was the ultimate buzz.

Then came the big one – the National Championships, held in Manchester. The prize was life-changing: an all-expenses-paid trip to LA, to spend four weeks working with street-dance stars Ghetto Angels. Rumour had it that, if your work was good enough, you’d be invited to perform with them at their next gig.

It was an amazing opportunity. Sadie didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything so badly in all her life. Ghetto Angels were incredible, the hippest things in the dance world right now, and she knew that this could catapult her into the big league. She worked on her routine day and night, rehearsing the steps obsessively until she could do them in her sleep. She was the one to beat, the dead cert to take the prize. That was, until Jenna Jonsson and her pushy mother had shown up …

‘Knock knock,’ came a voice at the door.

‘Yeah,’ Sadie responded lazily, recognizing it as her housemate Carla.

Carla poked her head round the bedroom door. She was a petite brunette with an English rose complexion and a body she could contort into positions that made men salivate. A fellow dancer, the pair had worked together one summer at a holiday camp. The show had been terrible – they’d got through it with good humour and a lot of alcohol – but by the end of the season each knew they’d made a friend for life.

‘How’re you doing?’ Carla crossed the room and plonked herself down, cross-legged, on the corner of Sadie’s bed.

‘Shit,’ Sadie replied succinctly.

‘Well I brought something to cheer you up,’ said Carla, brandishing a bottle of Smirnoff and two glasses filled with ice. Sadie’s eyes lit up. ‘But you have to share it with me,’ Carla warned her.

Sadie poured them each a generous amount and mixed it with Diet Coke. ‘One Skinny Bitch, on the rocks,’ she grinned, passing it to Carla. She settled back against the flattened pillows and the two of them turned their attention to the television, where the EMAs were in full swing.

‘Makes you sick, doesn’t it,’ Carla observed, as they watched yet another superstar receive a gong from a fawning presenter.

‘Uh huh. All those happy, smiling, Botoxed-to-the-hilt, nauseatingly rich people,’ ranted Sadie, warming to her theme. ‘They’re just hypocritical, self-congratulatory, sycophantic wankers,’ she finished triumphantly.

‘Wish you were there?’

‘Absolutely,’ Sadie agreed instantly, as the two of them burst into laughter.

‘You probably shouldn’t be watching this,’ Carla told her, as they re-ran footage of Phoenix receiving their Ultimate Legend award. ‘It’s going to make you feel even worse.’

‘Not at all,’ Sadie shook her head, making no attempt to change the channel. ‘Looking at Nick Taylor always cheers me up.’

‘He is amazingly hot,’ agreed Carla. ‘Especially in that suit. I bet he’s a total bastard though.’

‘Just my type,’ grinned Sadie, as she raised her glass at the TV screen. ‘I wouldn’t mind trying to tame him.’

Carla smiled indulgently. Then the image changed again, and the tiny screen was filled with a full-length shot of Jenna Jonsson making her way into The Dorchester.

‘God, that dress is gorgeous,’ Carla enthused.

Sadie snorted. ‘She’s overdone it with the Fake Bake, though. I mean, no one can actually be that colour,’ she sniped, as she took another slug of vodka. She was 23, the same age as Jenna, and yet the differences between their lifestyles couldn’t have been more stark.

‘Hon, you’ve got to get over it,’ Carla pushed gently.

‘I can’t!’ Sadie protested. ‘You know that. However hard I try, I feel like that was my big chance and I missed it. I’ll just be stuck here forever. Ninety years old and still in this shitty little boxroom.’

Her dance career had hit a lean patch that seemed never-ending. A few months ago she’d landed an ensemble role in a West End revival of 42nd Street; it promised a one-year contract, a prestigious venue and fantastic exposure. Sadie was ecstatic. Then, two weeks into rehearsals, the company had gone bust and the producer had disappeared off the face of the earth. Since then she could barely get an audition, let alone a job. She’d been trying to cover her rent by doing promo work, which was badly paid and soul-destroying. You name it, she’d promote it, usually while trussed up in some ridiculous tiny outfit or freezing her ass off on a street corner handing out leaflets. It was hardly the glamour she was longing for.

‘Well, I’ll be stuck here with you,’ Carla tried to cheer her up. ‘Look at me – scraping by on the occasional bit of cruise-ship work, spending the rest of my time teaching yoga to a bunch of stuck-up, ungrateful bankers. And I’ve got a crap boyfriend,’ she admitted, in a rare moment of frankness.

‘At least you’ve got a boyfriend,’ Sadie muttered. Her love life was about as successful as her career – going nowhere fast. She seemed to attract a succession of bastards and losers and she was sick of it. She knew it was un-PC to admit it, but she wanted a real man – someone confident and successful who could take care of her. Gorgeously fuckable was always a bonus, too.

‘Oh cheer up,’ Carla teased her good-naturedly, as she poured them both another drink.

‘Make mine a triple,’ Sadie said morosely. Despite what Carla had said, Sadie couldn’t snap out of her dark mood. The image on the screen seemed to taunt her. Jenna Jonsson – young and beautiful, with the world at her feet. It reminded Sadie of just how far their lives had diverged.

They’d known each other vaguely for years from the dance circuit. They’d never been close – mainly because Jenna’s domineering mother, Georgia, kept her well away from everyone else, worried that befriending the others would dull her competitive instincts.

Then five years ago came the Nationals. They were both eighteen, both in their final year of eligibility for the competition. It was the break Sadie so badly needed, and she was prepared to do anything to win.

So, apparently, was Georgia Jonsson. Sadie had seen her prowling backstage, her stick-thin figure poured into a low-cut dress, her ash-blonde hair teased up into a voluminous chignon. In her day, she must have been stunning. Now she was mutton dressed as lamb.

Jenna took to the stage before Sadie, giving a competent performance that was nothing to write home about. Nerves had obviously got the better of her, as she made the occasional, well-covered mistake. But she looked fantastic, naturally, her blonde hair curled into ringlets and tumbling down her back, her revealing costume clinging to her newly acquired curves like a second skin.

Sadie had been so nervous she thought she might be sick. The venue was enormous, bigger than anywhere she’d ever performed. But once she hit the stage, the tension evaporated. It was as though her body knew exactly what to do and she let the sensations take over, a joyous feeling of freedom that she surrendered to completely.

Sadie had given the performance of her life. Technically she was perfect, but it was so much more than that. She danced with spirit and soul, her body moving like a dream. She blew the competition out of the water and she knew it. She could still picture it now – if she shut her eyes in the cramped bedroom she was transported back to that day, moving as though she was flying, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. She’d been aware that no one in the room could take their eyes off her, the straight-laced judges in the front row captivated by her ability.

‘And the winner is …’

Sadie recalled lining up on stage with the rest of the girls, looking out at row upon row of expectant audience members. Her heart was racing, but she was confident. She wanted this so badly, she could almost feel the hot Los Angeles sun beating down on her body …

‘… Jenna Jonsson!’

Sadie gasped in astonishment. She remembered looking across at Dickie Masters, the head judge, with his shiny bald head and ginger moustache. He looked ridiculous – short and fat in a tweed blazer and crumpled trousers – as he beamed at Jenna, his jowly face so red it looked as if it was going to burst.

Jenna seemed to be the only person more surprised than Sadie. Her mouth fell open; her face was a picture of confusion as she stared across at her. Sadie found that she couldn’t meet Jenna’s eyes. She looked away, found a knot in the wooden floor and concentrated her energy on that. That way, she could pretend it wasn’t happening.

Jenna soon got over her reticence. She shrieked with delight, then burst into tears as they handed over the plane tickets. The next moment her mother was up on stage and they were posing for press shots with an enormous silver trophy. Jenna’s tears had been dried and she looked her usual radiant self, sandwiched between her mother and Dickie Masters. That was the last Sadie had seen of her – she and the other girls had been quickly shepherded off stage, expected to pick up their belongings and get out. Nobody loves a loser.

Back in the changing rooms, the others had commiserated with her, said they couldn’t understand what had happened. A few of them went further – thanks to her mother, Jenna wasn’t popular on the circuit and the bitchy comments flew. Then one by one they’d left, leaving Sadie sitting alone in the changing rooms. She felt dazed as she went over and over her performance in her mind. Was it possible she’d been wrong – that what she’d felt inside was so different to what the judges saw? But then why had everyone told her she deserved to win? It didn’t make any sense.

Gradually the numbness faded, replaced by a cold, hard ball of fury that began deep in her stomach and spread throughout her body. She should have won. She deserved it. No one had worked harder than she had and no one had given a better performance. So what the hell was going on?

Suddenly she jumped up, changing out of her costume in record time and snatching up her bag. She didn’t even bother to take off the heavy stage make-up, her face a riot of colour and sparkle as she raced out of the changing rooms and back through the main hall. It was empty now; the audience had left and the seats were being cleared away as the cleaners moved in. It seemed sad somehow; nothing like the glamorous, noisy spectacle it had been earlier. Sadie didn’t stop to reflect. She wanted answers.

As she reached the judges’ room, she got them. The door was ajar and at first Sadie thought everyone had left. Then she caught a glimpse of Dickie Masters. He wasn’t alone. Pressed up against him, her hair flying wild and her skirt hitched up, was Georgia Jonsson.

They looked so bizarre together that Sadie almost laughed out loud. Georgia towered above the diminutive Dickie – his nose barely reached her breasts; but that seemed to be just the way he liked it. His head was redder than ever, his face buried in Georgia’s cleavage as he made a noise that could only be described as snuffling. Georgia was stroking his smooth, bald head.

‘Oh yes, Dickie, that’s the way Mummy likes it,’ she purred.

Dickie’s hands seemed to be everywhere, fighting to pull Georgia’s dress even higher. He squealed in delight as he encountered the top of her stockings, his chubby fingers running feverishly over the garter straps. Then his hands moved to his trousers, struggling to pull off his belt and unzip his fly as he released his white, flaccid cock. It hung, small and limp, from his Y-fronts. Georgia took it in her hand and squeezed. It instantly responded and Dickie shuddered.

‘That’s right,’ whispered Georgia, ‘Mummy will make it better.’

Some instinct made her look up – right over Dickie’s head and straight at Sadie. Sadie expected her to cry out, to jump away in embarrassment. Instead Georgia had merely smiled, her expression triumphant. Then she had raised one stiletto heel and kicked the door shut in Sadie’s face.

‘Sadie, are you okay?’

Sadie started, aware that Carla was looking at her worriedly. Even now, the memory of the anger and injustice she’d felt was overwhelming.

‘It’s just so unfair,’ Sadie burst out, startling Carla with her ferocity. ‘Life, I mean.’

‘I know, hon,’ Carla sympathized. But Sadie was on a roll.

‘Aren’t you sick of all this?’ She waved her hand around, indicating the messy room with the holes in the carpet and the furniture that was falling apart. ‘This is not the life I’m supposed to be living. Do you know what I mean?’ she asked desperately. ‘I don’t want the nine-to-five grind, watching every penny with never enough to spare. I want excitement and glamour and hot sex with a gorgeous man who showers me with diamonds …’

‘You’re drunk,’ Carla told her gently.

‘What if I am?’ Sadie shot back, all her pent-up frustration spilling out. ‘I’m sick of living like this.’

‘So change it,’ Carla said simply. ‘You’re the only one who can.’

Sadie fell silent, thoughtful for a moment. On TV the cameras had gone to a wide shot, showing Jenna Jonsson in all her glory as she waved at the crowd, signing autographs and blowing kisses.

‘You know what? You’re right.’ Sadie sat bolt upright, her eyes fiery. ‘I’ll show Jenna bloody Jonsson. Anything she can do, I can do better. I’m going to make it, Carla – all the way to the fucking top. And I’m not going to stop till I do!’




3


‘Absolutely no way.’

Gerry King stood frowning before Jenna, an imposing figure with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. In his dark Savile Row suit, his sandy-coloured hair flopping boyishly across his brow to disguise the fact that it was thinning at the front, Jenna’s manager looked younger than his 44 years, and the expression on his face implied he was not to be argued with.

Jenna, however, felt that this did not apply to her. They had worked together for so many years now that they both felt they could be disarmingly frank with each other, without the risk of upsetting or offending. Jenna knew just how far she could push her luck and still get away with it – it was a skill she had down to a fine art.

‘What?’ Jenna let out of a squeal of indignation. ‘Gerry, you have to be joking! Can’t you see what a fantastic opportunity this is?’

Gerry sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to let this one drop.

‘Phoenix?’ he repeated doubtfully. ‘They’re a rock band, Jenna. You’re a pop star. It’s not going to work.’

‘But it will,’ Jenna insisted, unable to hide her enthusiasm. ‘Everyone’s doing it these days – collaborations with unexpected people. It’s the latest thing, and it’ll be totally hot.’

‘Speaking of hot,’ Gerry pronounced the word distastefully. ‘Would this sudden desperation to work with Phoenix have anything to do with Nick Taylor?’

Jenna flushed bright red, annoyed with herself that she was so easy to read. ‘I really admire him as an artist,’ she stated earnestly, as Gerry roared with laughter.

‘Yeah, and I love Pam Anderson for her acting ability,’ he chuckled. ‘Seriously Jenna, Nick Taylor eats girls like you for breakfast. I’m not letting him anywhere near you.’

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ snapped Jenna. She hated being treated like a child, and was blissfully unaware that the more petulantly she behaved, the more she sounded like one. ‘I can handle myself, Gerry, and I want to do this. Anyway, I’ve already said yes so I can’t back out now,’ she finished triumphantly.

‘Jenna,’ Gerry began tiredly, wishing she could be just a little less argumentative sometimes and save them all some trouble. He looked at her with affection as she stood there, bubbling over with excitement and energy, just as she had been the first day she’d walked into his office.

He could still remember the first time they’d met. She’d been totally overshadowed by her dominating mother, Georgia, who was fiercely ambitious and determined to live out her failed dreams through her daughter. She and Jenna’s father, Mikael, had divorced when Jenna was tiny. By anyone’s standards they were a pretty unlikely pairing – Mikael was a Swedish academic who had little in common with glamorous, party-girl Georgia, and the novelty of their odd-couple relationship had soon worn off. Georgia had never remarried – she devoted all her energies to pursuing her daughter’s career, and found being single worked to her advantage.

Yet despite Georgia’s overbearing behaviour, Gerry couldn’t fail to notice Jenna’s amazing presence in the room. The story was that she’d been out in LA, working with some dance group, when an A&R guy had spotted her. Ultimate Management had taken one look at her and signed her on the spot. They didn’t care whether or not she could sing – Auto-Tune could take care of that. But boy, could she sing.

Gerry, based in London, had been assigned to work with her on the European side. He’d known straight away she was going to be huge. And he was right – in less than two years Jenna was tottering on the brink of superstardom, her level of fame surpassing even her mother’s wildest expectations. She was in demand on every major continent, her life one exciting, hectic treadmill of recording, gigs, interviews and appearances. Until the accident in Munich.

It had been during Jenna’s first major European tour. She and Georgia had argued – nothing serious, just the usual mother-and-daughter spats. But Jenna had announced she would be taking the tour bus with the rest of the crew, while Georgia boarded the VIP helicopter. It came down shortly after take-off, crash-landing in the Englischer Garten. Georgia and the pilot were killed instantly. The autopsy showed traces of cocaine in the pilot’s bloodstream and witnesses remembered seeing him indulge at the after-show party the night before.

Jenna had been destroyed. She’d tried to contact her father – he’d moved back to Sweden and she hadn’t heard from him in years – but when she told him what had happened he showed little interest, and made it clear he had no intention of flying over for the funeral. It was left to Gerry to step into the breach, and he’d stayed by Jenna’s side 24/7 during the darkest times, knowing she had no one else. By his own admission he’d neglected his other artists, and at times he worried he’d totally overstepped his professional boundaries.

But they’d got through it. The tour had been cancelled and Jenna dropped out of the public eye for a while – some days she couldn’t even get it together enough to climb out of bed. But slowly, gradually, the old fire returned. When Jenna finally made her much-heralded comeback almost a year later, she was bigger and better than ever before. She’d cleaned up at the MTV Europe Awards, and now she wanted to record with Phoenix …

‘Look, there simply isn’t time,’ Gerry explained, his tone matter-of-fact. ‘Your entire schedule is manic for at least the next twelve months. We have magazine and TV interviews, promo appearances, photo shoots and live radio shows all booked. Then there’s the next tour to think about, a new album to record, maybe even a possible movie deal or fashion line to put your name to …’ Gerry looked at her pleadingly. ‘Can’t you see it’s just not possible for you to go swanning off to LA, not even for a few days? The schedule would kill you.’

Jenna smiled innocently, curling up in her chair like a cat. ‘What if it wasn’t in LA? What if I could get them to record in London? That way I could still—’

‘You won’t,’ Gerry cut her off.

‘But if—’

‘No, Jenna.’

Jenna simply nodded her head, keeping her gaze downcast as she distractedly pushed back her cuticles. ‘Okay,’ she shrugged easily. ‘Whatever you say.’

Gerry eyed her suspiciously, wondering where the temper tantrum was. The Jenna Jonsson he knew didn’t just back down like that – she would fight him every inch of the way. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her face, but Jenna just smiled sweetly back at him. Gerry scowled. He had a bad feeling about this.



On the other side of the Atlantic, in downtown Los Angeles, a similar argument was raging in Clive Goldman’s state-of-the-art office. Clive was the manager of Phoenix and, like Gerry King’s, his day wasn’t exactly going the way he’d planned it.

‘You told her what?’ he exploded, causing his already ruddy face to turn a veritable shade of purple. Nick ran his hands through his hair, messing up the artfully dishevelled look it had taken him forever to perfect that morning, and raised his hands in defence.

‘I just thought it could be good,’ he offered languidly, as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on Clive’s $10,000 desk. ‘We were talking and the idea kind of … came up, y’know?’

‘No, Nick, I don’t know. And get your fucking dirty feet off my fucking Parnian desk!’ Clive’s voice got louder with every word.

‘Keep the noise down, would ya?’ Nick winced behind his sunglasses. ‘It was kind of a late one last night.’ His voice was rough, and he had the hangover from hell. He’d been welcomed back to LA by Courtney, some pretty little actress-model wannabe with a great rack and a very willing disposition.

‘Christ Nick, don’t you ever take anything seriously?’

‘You should chill out, Clive; everything’s good – you know what I’m saying? The sun is shining and the women are sweet …’

Clive inhaled sharply, trying to control his temper as he turned away from the band and crossed the sumptuous deep-pile carpet to the window. From the cluster of skyscrapers in Century City, the sprawling mass of LA spread out far below and the view extended as far as the mountains to the east. The sun was blazing, but it was early still and the smog hadn’t yet lifted, wreathing the city in its choking grasp. Clive saw none of this. Letting out a deep breath, he turned back to where the hottest band on the planet were lounging on his office sofas as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

‘Guys, I’m running a business here, not a fucking crèche,’ Clive pleaded. ‘Everything here is carefully planned – that is why it works. Phoenix are a business, a brand. Do you understand that?’

‘I guess,’ Nick shrugged, unconcerned.

‘What do you guys think?’ Clive turned to the rest of the band. He was well aware that Nick saw himself as God’s gift, and seemed to have got his dick in a twist about this hot little British chick, but he was pretty sure the others would see sense.

Zac and Ryan remained silent. Clive clenched his fists in triumph. Divide and conquer.

‘Come on guys, this could be amazing,’ Nick implored. ‘Jenna Jonsson is so hot right now, and we’ve gotta keep things fresh. Imagine, our first comeback song after Josh with Jenna on lead. No one would be expecting it.’

‘I guess it could be pretty awesome,’ Ryan suggested hesitantly. The bass player of the group, he was easily the quietest and enjoyed a much lower public profile than the rest of the band – which was exactly the way he wanted it. Fiercely private when it came to his home life, he’d married his childhood sweetheart three years ago, and already they’d produced two children. With his cropped brown hair, cute face and casual dress sense, he looked like the ultimate boy next door.

‘Zac? What about you?’ Clive asked in exasperation.

Zac said nothing, pressing his lips together in stony silence. It seemed clear he wasn’t in favour.

Clive looked smugly at Nick. ‘I can tell you one thing for nothing: this will never happen. I know Gerry King, and I know how he works. He’s setting up this girl as a serious solo artist – a major player, in it for the long haul. He doesn’t have time for her to be dabbling in some side project, and there’s no way in hell he’ll agree to this.’



Jenna’s gaze flicked quickly round the room as she peeped out from under her perfectly mascara-ed, impossibly long lashes. Her smile was unfaltering and effortlessly dazzling, expertly hiding her nerves as she took in the swathe of journalists packed into a function room at the Sanderson Hotel in central London. There must have been about 200 easily, Jenna thought with a pang of trepidation, taking a sip of water to clear her throat as Clive Goldman expertly fielded questions from the assembled press pack.

Performing for the cameras was Jenna’s natural arena, and she loved it, but she had to admit to feeling an uncomfortable squirming in her stomach. She was anxious for this collaboration to get off to the best possible start and knew that positive press coverage was vital. She just hoped she didn’t do anything to mess it up before they’d even got started.

Intent on charming the reporters, Jenna shifted slightly in her seat to what she felt must be a more flattering angle. She looked immaculate as always; her white Dolce & Gabbana jeans clung to the curved lines of her perfect rear, her long legs tapering down into dazzling jade-green heels. A brightly coloured Marc Jacobs halterneck completed the look, and showed off her toned, tanned arms and back. It was a young, fresh and funky image. Large gold hoops jangled at her ears as she shook her head slightly, throwing out her hair behind her and relaxing into the seat she had chosen between Nick Taylor and Zac Knight at the press conference table.

‘Philip White, BBC. Are there any plans for you all to tour together?’

‘They might be sick of the sight of me by the time we’ve finished recording,’ Jenna quipped. There was raucous laughter from the male journos in the room, who couldn’t see how anyone could get tired of looking at Jenna. Most of them had enjoyed a private moment with Jenna’s image locked in their head.

Zac smiled politely, and added, ‘Seriously, though, it’s a long way off and none of us can say what we’ll be doing after this. We’ve all got crazy schedules. And, of course, it depends on the reaction to the music …’

‘But we’d love to do it, though,’ cut in Nick eagerly. His shirt was unbuttoned, showing a smattering of dark blond hair, and he was wearing his trademark sunglasses. ‘It’s just a question – like Zac says – a question of time. But Phoenix are definitely impatient to get out there and tour again, and Jenna’d certainly be a welcome addition.’

‘Katia Giacomo, E! News. Why have you made the decision to record in London?’

‘What can I say? We’d go anywhere to work with Jenna,’ Nick grinned, as he threw his arm around her, his hand squeezing her shoulder. Jenna’s stomach flip-flopped with excitement. She tried to play it cool, hoping the cameras wouldn’t pick up on it.

‘It’s a great city,’ Ryan added. ‘We’re looking forward to spending time here.’

‘So you’re planning to relocate?’

Ryan nodded. ‘I’m renting a house so my family can come over. The kids are young, so I don’t want to be away from them for too long – you miss so many important moments …’ He trailed off, sounding almost wistful. ‘But I don’t want to speak for the other guys.’ He looked over to Zac and Nick, but it was Clive that intercepted.

‘I’d prefer not to go into details of where the band are staying – we don’t want to cause a riot,’ he grinned sourly, taking a sip of his water. The heat in the room was getting to him. He was sweating lightly, and he loosened his collar.

A young guy in a cheap suit held up his hand. ‘Zac, I understand Amber’s working in London at the moment. Will this give you a chance to see each other more?’

Zac looked at the guy as if he was a moron. His hatred of the press was legendary. ‘Yes,’ he replied shortly.

There were discreet chuckles from the other reporters. Jenna tried to keep her face neutral at the mention of Amber. She’d met her twice and she didn’t like her.

Clive quickly interrupted. ‘Come on guys, let’s move it along here. Yes?’ He pointed to a woman in the second row.

‘Julia Page, Sky News. How do you think Josh Starr will react to the news that you’re to work with Jenna?’

Zac glanced nervously at his manager, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

‘I don’t really know what Josh would think,’ he began slowly. ‘He’s made his decision, and we wish him all the best.’

‘But is there any bitterness there?’ the reporter pressed. ‘Or has it turned out to be a blessing in disguise as you now have the chance to work with Jenna?’

A flicker of worry crossed Zac’s brow.

Clive leant forward towards his microphone. ‘Sorry, we’re running really short of time. We’ll just take one last question. Bob, yes?’

The CNN reporter jumped to his feet as Julia Page sat back in disappointment.

‘This is a question for Jenna,’ Bob Williams drawled, a sly grin flashing across his features. ‘You’ve long expressed your admiration for Phoenix – Nick Taylor in particular,’ he added, as the other reporters sniggered.

Jenna could feel her cheeks burning, remembering how she’d cited Nick as her ideal man in countless interviews.

‘I was wondering if you’re still of that opinion, now that you’ve met him?’

Jenna laughed brightly to hide her embarrassment, her smile lighting up her face. The press were gunning for a sniff of romance between Jenna and Nick – and Jenna was pretty keen on the idea herself.

‘I’ve found all the members of Phoenix to be extremely generous, welcoming and phenomenally talented,’ she began carefully. ‘I’m looking forward to forming an exciting and stimulating relationship with them – strictly professional of course,’ she added quickly, looking up coyly from underneath her lashes at a grinning Nick Taylor.




4


It was a glorious spring afternoon in the City. Shafts of sunlight filtered between the tall, grey office blocks and reflected off the stark, glass, ultra-modern buildings that had sprung up all over the City in recent years. The harassed-looking workers had shed their jackets and were striding through the streets in shirt-sleeves, their eyes hidden by black Ray-Bans. Parks, squares and even churchyards had been colonized by staff on their lunch break, looking to make the most of the unseasonably good weather. The hot sun was making everyone feel sexy, and Sadie was loving the vibe.

She was strolling along Bishopsgate with Carla and pretending not to notice the appreciative looks she was getting. Every man that passed checked her out, and Sadie was revelling in the attention. She’d just been to the lunchtime Pilates class that Carla ran at the City Works gym, and was bathed in a post-workout glow. Although she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, her skin was flawless and her cheeks were flushed and healthy. Her supple, toned limbs were evident through the fitted sweat pants and T-shirt she was wearing. She had put on a few pounds over the past couple of weeks and her usually skinny dancer’s figure had rounded out into sexy thighs, her small breasts had swollen a little fuller. The City high-fliers, surrounded by over-groomed women in their staid suits with immaculate hair and make-up, couldn’t keep their eyes off her.

‘Here?’ asked Carla, as they scanned the menu outside a smart-looking Italian bistro.

‘Good for me,’ Sadie grinned.

They sat down at an outside table beside a large group of business people. Sadie turned her face up to the sky, feeling the sun beat down on her skin as she loosened her hair band and shook out her dark, glossy hair.

‘I’d love a glass of white wine,’ Sadie smiled, as the waiter approached. ‘And a risotto verde.’

‘I’ll just have a mineral water and a goat’s-cheese salad … without the goat’s cheese.’ Carla winced in apology at the confused waiter. ‘And with the dressing on the side.’

Sadie looked at her carefully. ‘You do know you’ve just ordered a glass of water and a plate of lettuce?’

‘Yeah …’

‘Mmmmmm,’ Sadie smacked her lips together sarcastically. ‘Sounds delicious.’

‘I’m having a fat day,’ Carla retorted crossly.

Sadie stared at her friend – she was a size four and there wasn’t a trace of fat anywhere on her body. Her hip bones jutted out and you could count her ribs when she inhaled. ‘A fat day?’ she repeated.

‘You know what Tom’s like,’ Carla shrugged as though that explained everything. Tom was Carla’s boyfriend. He worked in IT, which as far as Sadie could tell meant he spent his time surfing the Internet and downloading porn. ‘He’s really into Asian women – Japanese, Filipino – and you know how skinny they are,’ Carla explained.

‘So are fourteen-year-old boys,’ Sadie lectured. She had never liked Tom. He and Carla had been together for years, and as far as Sadie could tell they only stayed together out of habit. Carla couldn’t seem to see how much better off she would be without him; as far as she was concerned, any guy was better than being alone. ‘Look, just because Tom has weird fetishes doesn’t mean you have to starve yourself.’

‘I just want him to love me,’ Carla whispered, her doe eyes filling with tears.

‘Hon, he’s a bastard,’ Sadie told her frankly.

‘Your area of expertise,’ shot back Carla, turning her anger on Sadie.

‘Touché.’ Sadie raised an eyebrow. She could tell Carla was upset, so she let the matter drop. ‘Anyway, I’m the one who needs to go on a diet,’ she continued, as she sipped the deliciously chilled Pinot Grigio. ‘I’ve barely worked out at all since 42nd Street was cancelled. Laziness and comfort eating are not a good combination.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you look fantastic,’ Carla re assured her. ‘Every man in here is practically drooling into his lunch.’

‘Well it’s nice to have these,’ Sadie smirked, indicating her breasts, ‘but I really need to get back down to my performance weight. I haven’t done anything for weeks. Thanks for dragging me out,’ she smiled gratefully. Despite her protests when Carla first invited her, Sadie felt a lot better after the Pilates class. She enjoyed the familiar buzz as her body was kick-started back to life. She knew that she needed to get back into some sort of routine – and soon. She planned to start auditioning again next week and she needed to be on top of her game. It would be steamed veg and dance classes all the way from now on, she vowed, wincing as the waitress brought a delicious-looking panna cotta over to the table next to them.

‘No, thanks for doing me the favour. It’s nice to see a friendly face among all those tight-arsed Botox freaks,’ Carla grinned, as she fished out the slice of lemon from her glass.

‘Too many calories?’ teased Sadie.

‘Fuck off,’ retorted Carla, good-naturedly. ‘You might be able to look amazing 24/7, but not all of us have that luxury. Speaking of which, I’m off to the Ladies to tidy myself up a little. All these rich bitches are giving me a complex,’ she asserted, grabbing her bag as she pushed her chair back and went inside.

Idly, Sadie glanced over at the surrounding tables, settling back to watch the hustle and bustle as people hurried past on their way to Liverpool Street. Everyone seemed to be wearing freshly buffed shoes and expensive suits, their braying voices loudly discussing incomprehensible terms like derivative clearing and projected EPS. But she couldn’t deny that everyone looked fantastic. The women were impeccably dressed in chic designer outfits and sky-high heels, their hair professionally styled and their make-up immaculate. And the men …! Sadie allowed herself a small smile, and resolved to discuss the topic with Carla as soon as she got back. They’d have no problem finding Carla someone hotter than freaky Tom. The men here all looked sexy as hell, with their crisp, white shirts and light tans, no doubt cultivated at Christmas in St Barts and topped up on the ski slopes at Klosters.

Her gaze landed on a guy a couple of tables away, and Sadie almost knocked over her wine glass. Christ, he was gorgeous! She felt as if she’d just received an electric shock, one thousand volts straight through her body. Thank God she was wearing dark glasses so he couldn’t see her staring. He looked directly at her and his gaze was so disconcerting that she dropped her eyes, feeling her cheeks flame.

Cautiously, she glanced up from underneath her long, dark lashes. He was no longer looking at her, but some instinct told Sadie that he was still highly aware of her presence. He was chatting and joking with his colleagues; the women burst out laughing at something he’d said and Sadie felt an inexplicable pang of jealousy.

Then he glanced over at her again, as if to check that she was watching. This time Sadie didn’t look away. Damn, he was attractive. He must have been almost twice her age – early forties, she would have guessed – but he had that complete confidence and authority that comes with maturity. Maturity, and a shit-load of cash, Sadie smiled to herself, as she noticed the Rolex on his wrist. His hair was dark, flecked with grey, and his features were exquisite – strong jaw line and a heavy, Roman nose which gave his face a distinction and gravity, offset by the way he was grinning now. He looked fun, she thought, feeling a delicious flutter in her stomach. He looked sexy.

Sadie glanced up as Carla slid back into her seat, now perfectly made up with her glossy brown hair freshly brushed. ‘I feel better for that,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s like I’m naked without lip gloss.’ She noticed Sadie’s agitated state, the spots of colour high on her cheeks. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Hot man alert,’ Sadie hissed through pursed lips.

‘I know, they’re everywhere.’ Carla sat back languidly as the waiter placed their food in front of them.

‘Not like this one.’

‘So who’s your intended victim?’

Sadie nodded discreetly to where the man was once again talking with his friends.

Carla wrinkled her nose. ‘Not bad. Not really my taste, though. He’s been checking you out since we arrived so he’s definitely interested.’

Sadie was pleased by the confirmation.

‘What about your vow to make it to the top?’ Carla asked, a teasing glint in her eye. ‘Won’t he be a distraction?’

‘A girl’s got to have some fun,’ Sadie pouted. ‘Let off a little steam, if you know what I’m saying.’

‘I know what you’re saying,’ Carla grinned. ‘So are you going over?’

Sadie shook her head. ‘No way. He can come to me.’

‘Well he’d better be quick …’

‘Fuck,’ swore Sadie, as there was a clattering of chairs and the women gathered their handbags. The group stood up and the man walked off without so much as a backwards glance. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed, as she watched his retreating form. His shoulders were broad, his back toned and defined through the white cotton shirt. She imagined his strong, muscular chest pressed against her, his breath hot on her neck. She wanted him badly.

‘There’ll be another one along in a minute,’ Carla reassured her. ‘What about that guy over there?’ she suggested, indicating a young City slicker with over-styled blond hair who was talking loudly into his BlackBerry.

Sadie merely raised an eyebrow. She pushed her food aside; suddenly she had no appetite. She took a large gulp of wine, hoping it would dull the nagging sensation of humiliation. She felt like a loser and she didn’t like it. ‘Shall we get the bill?’

‘Sure,’ agreed Carla, who was toying with a leaf of rocket.

Sadie signalled for the waiter, who came rushing over. ‘No, there is no charge, madam. The gentleman who was sitting over there paid for your meal.’

It took Sadie a moment to comprehend what he was saying, but then a satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. ‘Did he now?’ she purred, feeling the familiar rush of excitement in her stomach.

‘Yes madam. And he asked me to give you this.’ The waiter handed over a neat, elegantly printed business card. Sadie took it, brushing her fingers thoughtfully over the raised print. Paul Austin. Senior Investment Manager. Willis & Bourne. It was thick, creamy card, expertly embossed. Very expensive. Very tasteful.

‘He’s bound to be a bastard,’ Carla warned her.

Sadie smiled triumphantly. ‘Let the game commence.’



Jenna’s emotive voice rang out powerfully in the cramped recording booth. Lost in the sound of the music, she swayed her hips slightly, causing Nick to miss a beat as his concentration was broken by the sight of her gyrating crotch.

‘Okay, let’s do that line again,’ sighed Don from behind the glass wall of the production box. It was the second day of recording for the Jenna/Phoenix collaboration, and only four weeks since the press conference, but already the optimism and excitement of that day felt like months ago. Don had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t going to be the easiest job of his career.

At 55 years old, Lancashire-born Don had been in the business a long time. Physically, he was a huge, hairy guy with a ZZ Top beard and a cut-the-crap attitude that endeared him to the artists he worked with. Don had collaborated with some of the biggest names in the music industry, and partied with some of the world’s most stunning women, but had stayed resolutely faithful to Patty, his wife of twenty-eight years. All the same, he was a guy and couldn’t fail to admire that high, round butt and those pert tits.

Yet, whilst his was what he liked to describe as a healthy appreciation, he felt Nick’s appreciation was a little too healthy. Hell, it was so healthy it was practically doing cartwheels round the room. His timing on the drums was awful, and it wouldn’t have surprised Don to find him dribbling on his snare.

‘Excellent, we’re getting there,’ Don yelled, as Jenna belted out the line and Nick managed to complete the riff.

Zac looked up and adjusted his headphones. ‘I think we should do it again,’ he suggested quietly.

‘What’s the problem, Zac?’

They were working on a track called ‘Without You’. Penned by Zac, it had been intended for Phoenix before Josh quit, but Jenna had insisted on having creative input and a writing credit.

‘I don’t think the vocal was quite right,’ Zac replied firmly, not meeting Jenna’s gaze.

‘I thought Jenna got it down just fine. Take a break and we can always run through it again later,’ Don suggested.

‘Since when have we settled for just fine?’ Zac pressed, his voice taking on a harder edge. ‘It wasn’t right, so we should do it again. I don’t know how other artists work, but we’ve always had our success through hard work. Our music speaks for itself, and we don’t rely on any other … assets … to sell records.’

Don was taken aback. Where the hell had that come from? Zac had always seemed like such an easy-going guy, yet he seemed to have taken a strong dislike to this cute chick and Don felt clueless as to why that should be. Sure, she could overdo it with the pampered princess act, but that was something they could easily get past if they were going to get this music out.

‘How about we take a break and go back to it in a while. Everyone’s starting to flag.’

But it was Jenna’s voice that replied. ‘No Don, it’s fine,’ she said curtly, stunned by what Zac had said. She’d always been a huge fan of his, but maybe it was true when they said you shouldn’t meet your idols. ‘I’ll do it again. I haven’t come this far by taking it easy on myself,’ she added pointedly, glaring defiantly at Zac. She didn’t know what his problem was, but if he thought she was going to roll over and die, he had another thing coming.

They reset the backing and Jenna launched into the song, feeling the power of the music build up through her body as Nick thrashed on the drums and Ryan hammered out the bass line. Unconsciously she began to move to the rhythm, feeling the relentless beat of the drums pulse through her, the squealing of the guitar electrify her veins. Many of her rivals wrote her off as simply another identikit pop act, but anyone who underestimated her was making a big mistake. She’d worked her arse off over the years to get where she was now, and she knew she was damn talented.

Screw him and his criticism, thought Jenna, fixing her gaze on Zac, who remained hunched over his guitar like an animal with its prey. His well-defined muscles rippled under his grey T-shirt, and Jenna felt a burst of injured pride followed by the shot of adrenaline she needed as she ripped into the song.

When the track finished, a deafening silence rang out in the studio. A single word came from the production box. ‘Perfection.’

Slowly, Jenna brought her focus back to the room. The rest of the band was gazing at her, awestruck.

‘You were fantastic, you totally nailed it,’ gushed Nick.

‘That was pretty amazing,’ admitted Ryan. ‘The feeling you put in there – it was so connected.’

Jenna grinned with pleasure as she realized the effect she’d had on them. Unable to help herself, she sneaked a glance at Zac.

This time, he met her gaze. ‘That was good,’ he agreed grudgingly. ‘I guess that wraps us up for the night. See you guys tomorrow.’ He grabbed his battered old jacket and walked out of the studio before anyone had a chance to reply.

‘Zac, wait,’ Jenna called out impulsively. She was sick of the way he was acting towards her, and wanted to find out exactly what his problem was. His attitude was making the situation awkward for everyone, and after her success in the studio she was on a high, geared up for an argument.

Slamming through the door after him, she ran out into the corridor to find Zac being embraced by Amber, immaculate in a simple black dress and sky-high ankle boots.

‘Oh, I didn’t realize …’ Jenna faltered, trailing off.

‘Hi Jenna.’ Amber greeted her coldly, her eyes not matching the friendliness of her words. She kept her arms firmly around Zac, a possessive gesture deliberately designed to exclude.

‘Hi Amber,’ Jenna replied smoothly, trying to sound composed even though her mind was racing. ‘I just … wanted a quick word with Zac. But it’s not important. It’ll wait until tomorrow.’

‘It must have been pretty important if you ran out here to tell me,’ Zac challenged her. There was an amused glint in his dark eyes. ‘What did you want to say?’

You bastard, Jenna swore to herself. It was all she could do not to spit the remark out at him. ‘I said it could wait until tomorrow,’ she told him coldly, turning on her heel and walking back into the studio.

‘Fine.’ Zac gave a small shrug and threw his arm across Amber’s shoulders, steering her towards the exit.

Jenna stood alone in the corridor, her breath coming fast. She’d show that arrogant prick. Jenna Jonsson was not to be underestimated – and Zac was going to find out he’d made a big mistake.




5


Despite her protestations to the contrary, Jenna did care what Zac thought. She couldn’t help it. In spite of his arrogance and his dismissive attitude towards her, she wanted his approval. More than that, she was determined that this collaboration with Phoenix would blow everyone away, and she knew that for that to happen she needed to start working hard and get the band on side.

Ryan was a lovely, sweet guy – quiet, but from a natural shyness, not hostility. Nick was eating out of her hand, she thought with a grin. Now he was a lot of fun. There had been a lot of flirting, a lot of teasing and giggling, but nothing more. Yet. Don was a sweetie, and the best in the business – he worked them mercilessly, but got fantastic results, and Jenna had the utmost respect for him. But Zac … Jenna couldn’t work him out. He was behaving like a total bastard towards her, but that wasn’t what she’d heard about him from everyone else. They all seemed to think he was a great guy. Yeah, so he could be a little absorbed in his work at times, but that was something you accepted when you were working with a genius. So what was his problem with her?

Jenna was mulling the situation over as she lay alone in her super-king-size bed, unable to sleep. Zac’s criticism had hit her harder than she had expected. All of his comments seemed to centre on her work and her attitude. She knew that he could only respect anyone who took their work as seriously as he did, and when she turned up day after day in her little outfits, looking to flirt with Nick and have a laugh with the production staff …

Jenna cringed as she thought of it. Okay, so maybe she could be a little childish at times.

Right, Jenna resolved firmly, tomorrow sees the start of the new, mature me.

And the first thing to change would be her clothes, she decided, jumping out of bed and heading over to her walk-in wardrobe with a growing sense of excitement at the thought of a reinvention. Other artists did it all the time, thought Jenna, picturing herself at high-brow events wearing Audrey Hepburn-style shift dresses, or fitted shirts and tailored trousers. Elegant – but still sexy, of course. Or maybe she could go for grown-up rock chick – thick black opaques and biker boots, teamed with a low-cut vest and fierce blazer.

As Jenna pulled aside the rows of skimpy, bare-all tops, the micro-miniskirts and the tiny hot pants, she felt she could perhaps see the problem. Resolving to throw away all items of clothing she owned in baby pink, Jenna rummaged through rail upon rail of designer labels and located a pair of white, flared Ralph Lauren trousers, a demure, high-necked shift dress from last season’s Victoria Beckham collection, and the bold floral print skirt she’d finally decided on. Just because I want to be refined doesn’t mean I have to look like a Tory wife, she concluded, finding a pair of ultra-feminine Chanel ballet pumps, which lacked the spiked heel and fetishistic appeal of most of her other footwear.

Just you wait Zac Knight, thought Jenna fiercely, climbing back between the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets and flicking off the light.



Sadie emerged from the grimy Tube, breathing in the fresh air of Green Park. She looked sensational in a deep red wrap dress that fitted perfectly, emphasizing the slim contours of her body, and she’d teamed it with a sleek pair of knee-high boots. Men were checking her out as she walked along, a spring in her step and a swing to her hips.

As she reached the May Fair Hotel a few minutes later, the uniformed porter in his long coat and top hat opened the door, smiling at her as she stepped through. Sadie made a left and headed towards the bar. Her stomach was churning with excitement and nerves, but she knew she looked good.

Paul Austin was already there, seated at the counter. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. He looked unbelievably handsome, just as she’d remembered him, and in the stylish bar he seemed completely at home, radiating power and confidence. His suit was expensive and well fitted, his face serious as he swirled his whisky on the rocks. Then he glanced up, his face creasing into a smile as he saw her. He stood up to meet her and his eyes slowly ran over every inch of her body, watching the way her hips rolled, the way her small breasts rose and fell as she walked towards him. Sadie felt a thrill of anticipation run down her spine.

Paul leaned over to kiss her cheek. ‘You smell delicious,’ he murmured, lingering for just a second too long.

Sadie felt her stomach contract, a rush of heat low in her belly. The air was thick with tension.

‘I’ve ordered for you,’ Paul told her, indicating the glass of white wine on the counter beside him.

‘You remembered,’ Sadie said delightedly. She’d been drinking wine in the restaurant where she’d first seen him.

‘I remember everything. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that afternoon.’

His eyes were trained on her unwaveringly. Sadie felt as though he was mentally undressing her, picturing her in the tiniest scrap of Victoria’s Secret. She took a sip of wine to calm her nerves, but her hands were shaking. A drop spilled over the edge and trickled down the outside of the glass, leaving a trail through the condensation. Instinctively Sadie caught it with her finger, then placed the tip in her mouth and sucked gently.

She heard Paul’s breath catch in his throat and she looked up, her eyes betraying a mix of fear, confusion and pure, undisguised lust.

‘Sadie.’ Just one word. The way he said her name, she felt herself melt. Instantly she knew why she was there. She wanted him badly, and there was no way of hiding it.

‘Let’s go.’ Paul’s voice was low and husky as he threw a note on the counter, grabbed Sadie by the hand and pulled her towards the exit.



‘You know … I don’t usually do this kind of thing …’ Sadie gasped, her breath coming fast as she felt heat flood her body.

‘Well I’m glad to be the exception,’ Paul smirked, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth as his hands roamed frenziedly beneath her clothes.

Sadie moaned in pleasure and staggered backwards, feeling as though her legs wouldn’t hold her up. Her back hit the wall and Paul fell against her, his firm body crushed against hers. She could feel his swollen cock through his trousers and she fumbled with his belt buckle, eager to free him.

‘I should let you know … that I don’t usually do this kind of thing …’ Paul mimicked her words, his mouth hot against her ear so that the skin on the nape of her neck prickled deliciously.

Her hand slid inside his pants and she felt him, hard and thick as she grasped his shaft. Paul closed his eyes and groaned in delight as her fingers slipped down to his balls, stroking and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure.

‘Then I’m glad to be the exception,’ Sadie managed to stammer, biting down on her lip to stop herself from crying out as he roughly pushed up her top and greedily bent his head to her breasts. Her nipples were tight and his tongue flickered expertly over them, circling and sucking.

They were acting on instinct now, slaves to what their bodies were telling them. Sliding a hand down to her pussy, Paul couldn’t believe how wet she was. The thought of her creaming herself for him turned him on even more and he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Pulling a condom from his wallet he slipped it on and picked her up, his muscular arms flexing as Sadie wrapped her legs around his waist and he lowered her onto his throbbing cock.

Her back pressed into the wall as she clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move inside her, groaning with every thrust. She could feel him deep inside, his groin rubbing relentlessly against her clit as the pressure began to build.

‘Paul, I’m close,’ she cried. ‘So fucking close …’

Without missing a beat he carried her over to the bed and they crashed down onto the pristine hotel sheets, Paul above her as he began to thrust faster. Sadie heard herself moan and for a moment her world was reduced to nothing except Paul and how good he felt, how amazing he felt inside her. She cried out, unable to help herself as waves of pleasure rocked through her body, and somewhere she heard Paul groan before he finally grew still.

He rolled off her, snapping off the condom before propping himself up on the pillows. Lazily, Sadie admired his body. He was definitely in amazing shape for a guy of his age. He was well built and muscular, his skin tanned and his abs defined. His hair was greying a little around the temples but Sadie liked that. It gave him a gravity, and showed that he wasn’t vain enough to dye it.

‘I meant what I said, you know,’ Sadie told him, as she languidly stretched her exquisite body, totally unselfconscious about being naked. ‘I don’t usually do this kind of thing.’

‘Have sex?’ Paul teased her, resting one arm behind his head to show off his impressive biceps. ‘Because you certainly didn’t seem like a beginner to me.’

‘Have sex with total strangers in hotel rooms,’ Sadie clarified, watching Paul’s face for his reaction. He leaned over and very slowly traced a finger between her breasts, down over her stomach to her navel. Sadie shivered in delight.

‘And I meant what I said. I don’t usually pick up random women in restaurants.’ He paused. ‘But you were so beautiful I simply couldn’t help myself.’

In spite of herself, Sadie smiled. It was a corny line, but what the hell, it made her feel good. She could tell he was into her, and the sex had been amazing. She hadn’t been wrong about the chemistry between them. Even while Carla insisted she was crazy, Sadie had dialled the number on the business card he’d left her and had arranged to meet in the bar of the hotel. It was immediately obvious that they were there for more than a polite drink; the sexual tension between them was off the scale.

‘Every man in there wanted you, and that’s why I couldn’t let you get away. And do you know how I could tell you wanted me?’ Paul asked as Sadie shook her head. ‘When you looked at me your nipples went hard,’ he grinned. ‘Like tight little bullets through that sexy top of yours. Just like they’re doing now,’ he added, brushing his fingers lightly over her breasts.

Sadie squirmed under his touch, desire filling her face as she looked up at him with flushed cheeks and wide pupils. Damn, this guy could get her so hot. He was clearly an arrogant bastard, but in her experience men like that could be a lot of fun. Just as long as you didn’t expect too much from them – romance, commitment, consideration; these were all things that a guy like this was never going to provide.

‘Are you married?’ she asked suddenly.

Paul hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes. Does it bother you?’

‘Shouldn’t it bother you?’ Sadie shot back.

Paul sighed, pulling his hand away from her. ‘I’m not going to bullshit you, Sadie. Yes, I’m married. We’ve got three kids – all boys. The eldest is eleven.’

‘Right.’ Sadie swallowed hard.

‘We haven’t had sex in months. It’s a marriage of convenience now – she’s got her shopping and her gym classes, I’ve got my work. But she throws great dinner parties and charms all of my colleagues. She’s given me three adorable boys and I want to be there for them. There’s no way I’m going to leave her.’

‘I wasn’t asking you to,’ Sadie said irritably. ‘This is just a fuck for me too, you know.’

Paul laughed. ‘So I’m just a fuck to you, am I?’ he asked, his hands sliding over her buttocks and drifting tantalizingly along the inside of her thighs.

‘Yes,’ Sadie replied, fighting to keep control even though she knew her body was betraying her.

‘That’s a shame because I’d like to see you again. I think you and I could have a lot of fun together.’

‘If by fun you mean no-strings sex, then I’m all for it,’ Sadie retorted, determined to beat this bastard at his own game.

Paul was impressed. ‘My kind of woman,’ he remarked, and she could see the desire written on his face. He’d lied when he said he and his wife no longer slept together, but after fifteen years of marriage and three children, it paled in comparison to the thrill of an illicit liaison with a woman half his age. Everyone he knew was at it – the stay-at-home wife to provide the kids and the beautiful home, then a hot, young thing on the side for a little light relief. Along with cars, boats and exotic holidays, a mistress was just another necessary accessory for rich and powerful men.

Paul leaned towards her, his fingers tracing a line across her perfectly flat stomach. His touch was light, and Sadie shivered involuntarily. ‘Ah, sexy Sadie,’ he grinned. ‘You intrigue me. There aren’t many women who are so honest about what they want.’

‘What can I say?’ she said with a flirtatious shrug. ‘I’m just not like other women.’

‘Too true,’ Paul agreed. ‘So tell me about yourself. I want to get to know you – in more than just the biblical sense.’

‘What do you want to know?’ Sadie asked easily.

‘What do you do? Model?’ he guessed. ‘Personal trainer?’

‘I’m a dancer.’

His eyes lit up immediately – the classic reaction. Men loved it when Sadie told them what she did for a living. They immediately pictured her contorted into some graphic sexual pose, imagining she could put her legs behind her head while they rammed into her, or envisaging sleek, toned thighs clasped tightly around them.

‘I love what I do and I’m very ambitious,’ she warned him, her face becoming steely as it always did when she talked about her career. ‘I’m going places. I’m just waiting for the right break, but I know I’ll make it.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Paul agreed. ‘You’ve got the right attitude, a beautiful face, and’ – here he looked her up and down with barely concealed lust – ‘the hottest body I’ve seen in a very long time.’

‘Thanks,’ Sadie said coolly. She didn’t feel he was flattering her; his comments were pretty accurate as far as she was concerned. ‘What about you? How do you earn your millions?’

‘Oh please,’ Paul shook his head in mock deprecation. ‘I only make millions if it’s a particularly good year.’

‘Yes, I can see you’re practically on the breadline,’ Sadie teased, stretching luxuriously in the enormous bed.

‘I’m in finance,’ Paul explained. Sadie looked at him quizzically and he continued, ‘I work for a private equity firm in the City. I deal with clients who have more money than they know what to do with – and I make them even more. It’s about turning millionaires into billionaires,’ he boasted. ‘Increasingly I’m handling single clients, rather than corporations – high net-worth individuals who’ve made their money in business or in the entertainment world. We invest their money and take a percentage of the profits.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’ Sadie asked curiously.

‘I love it,’ Paul replied without hesitation. ‘It affords me a fantastic lifestyle, and I work damn hard for it. I play hard too,’ he added, with a wink.

‘I can tell. This room’s gorgeous,’ Sadie commented, looking around properly at her surroundings for the first time. They’d been in such a hurry to tear each other’s clothes off that she’d hardly even noticed where she was. Hell, she couldn’t even remember if they’d locked the door.

‘Oh, this is nothing,’ Paul said dismissively. ‘Rooms in Europe are tiny compared to those in the States. And I always say that a room’s not a room unless it comes with a hot tub,’ he grinned.

Sadie smiled back, saying nothing. Her eyes flicked over the enormous armchairs, the deep pile carpets and the heavy wooden writing desk. Discreet Bang & Olufsen speakers were mounted on either side of the bed, and the whole place was decorated in a classic colour scheme of chocolate and cream. Sadie thought that if this was what Paul casually dismissed as ‘nothing’, she’d love to see his idea of luxury.

‘But it is very discreet,’ he explained as he moved towards her. His eyes were dancing, and Sadie knew exactly what was on his mind. Undoubtedly he was hot, and the things he did to her drove her wild. But there could be other advantages to this situation, she realized. This was the lifestyle she wanted – the expensive clothes, the hotels, the hot tubs. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this. Not that she wanted to become anyone’s wife – hell, no, she was still totally focused on her career, dead set on becoming a success. But maybe Paul could help her with that. Having a gorgeous, loaded man who adored her might turn out to be very helpful indeed. He’d mentioned clients in the entertainment industry – she wondered if he had any good contacts.

Sadie leaned forward so that her breasts pressed against his chest and gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. ‘I just realized I never thanked you for the meal …’ she murmured.

‘You can thank me now,’ Paul said, twisting her long, dark hair around his fingers and gently pushing her downwards to where his erection was growing once again. He sighed with pleasure as he felt her warm lips slide over his cock, her tongue gently flickering over the head. Then he settled back against the pillows, and smiled in satisfaction.




6


Despite Jenna’s change of clothing, the following day’s recording was the usual tense affair. She bounced into Sarm Studios looking radiant, with her long blonde hair freshly washed. For once she hadn’t blow-dried it, letting the natural wave take over and tumble softly down her back. Her make-up was subtle, and she had added just a touch of lip gloss. Tod’s loafers and a delicate pair of pearl earrings completed the image.

‘Wow Jenna, you look … real classy …’ Nick finished before he could stop himself.

Jenna laughed a little too loudly, hoping her cover hadn’t been blown. ‘What’s the matter, can’t I dress like a lady once in a while?’ she joked, looking away nervously as Zac sauntered into the studio.

‘All right?’ he enquired gruffly, barely looking at her.

‘Not bad,’ she replied civilly. ‘You?’

Zac picked up his guitar, throwing the shoulder strap across his slim, muscular back. He began to strum absentmindedly.

‘Yeah,’ he replied, meeting her gaze for once. ‘I’m good.’

‘Excellent,’ replied Jenna irritably, wondering why his flippant remark annoyed her so much. Why did he always have to seem so in control of every situation, making her feel as though everything she said was juvenile and ridiculous?

‘Going somewhere special?’ he asked easily.

‘I just felt like a change, all right?’ Jenna snapped back, as Zac smiled benignly.

The day went downhill from there.

Although Zac rarely openly criticized Jenna, there was a distinctly uncomfortable atmosphere that never seemed to lift. Something, somewhere, wasn’t quite gelling, and the music so far was worryingly second-rate. Despite rarely voicing his opinions, it seemed obvious what Zac thought of her – that she was lazy and uncommitted – and Jenna was worried that the production staff privately agreed with him. Stories had already begun to circulate in the media about how the Jenna/Phoenix collaboration might be over before it had even begun, and Jenna had been leaning hard on Gerry to stop these stories and get some positive stuff out there.

Suddenly she caught sight of her reflection in the glass wall of the production box and twisted slowly from side to side, wondering if this change of image really suited her. The knee-length skirt was unflattering, and from the side her calves looked enormous …

‘Damn – sorry,’ she apologized, as she missed her intro. ‘I was miles away.’

‘Try to concentrate, sweetheart,’ Don pleaded wearily, sinking his head into his hands.

‘Sorry guys. I’m ready now.’

‘That’s good of you,’ muttered Zac under his breath.

He glanced across at Jenna with a lingering trace of exasperation. She looked so vulnerable standing alone in the vocal booth, her eyes large and downcast, twirling her hair round her fingers with embarrassed discomfort. Okay, so he couldn’t deny that she was sexy. But she was also infuriating as hell, Zac insisted to himself. It was her whole damn attitude – the way she just swanned around in cute little outfits, flirting with the crew and thinking that she could charm Don and get away with second-rate work. Even the more demure clothes she was wearing today couldn’t hide that magnificent figure. Zac had been as surprised as anyone when she’d turned up looking like a society deb who’d been dressed by her mother, but Jenna Jonsson could probably still look hot in a garbage bag, he realized, his eyes skimming involuntarily over her rounded thighs, curving in to an impossibly slender waist. The neutral make-up served to highlight her mesmerizing eyes and plump, inviting lips …

‘Zac?’ Don’s voice came angry and questioning from behind the mixing desk.

‘Sorry, what?’ Zac looked around, confused.

‘Your solo?’

Zac glanced down stupidly at his guitar, which was hanging uselessly at his waist. ‘Now?’ he asked, stalling for time.

‘Well, preferably thirty seconds ago, but yeah, it tends to follow the bridge.’

‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ he replied, mimicking Jenna. ‘Can we go again?’

‘Looks like I’m not the only one who can fuck up,’ Jenna couldn’t resist commenting. She aimed the remark at Nick, but it was easily loud enough for Zac to hear, which was her intention.

He turned on her angrily, enraged by her arrogance and maddened that she was the reason for his lack of focus. ‘Yeah, I fuck up occasionally because I’m human,’ he shouted. ‘What I don’t do is fuck up every other take, because I’m too busy checking out my own goddamn reflection!’

There was a deathly silence in the studio.

‘Screw you,’ Jenna spat, her eyes gleaming angrily and her breath coming fast.

The tension was palpable. No one spoke, but all eyes were on the pair.

‘Grow up, Jenna,’ Zac said quietly. ‘Think of somebody else for once.’ He looked down at the floor, not trusting himself to meet her eyes.

For Jenna, the remark hurt all the more because she knew it was true. She’d been behaving like a spoiled brat and she hated herself for it, but she would rather have died than admit it to that condescending arsehole. She glanced across at him through narrowed eyes. His chest rose and fell quickly under his T-shirt, indicating his fury. His dark hair had fallen across his forehead and stubbornly stayed there.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ roared Don exasperatedly. ‘Are we finished now, children? Can we get on with it?’

Zac lifted his gaze and glared at Jenna, his dark brown eyes boring into her own. ‘I’m outta here,’ he announced, swinging his guitar strap over his head as Jenna threw up her hands in exasperation.

‘Zac?’ Don yelled pleadingly. He wondered what the hell had got into the guy. He was usually so pleasant and laid back, but since Little Miss Pop Sensation had turned up, he’d been foul-tempered and snappy, constantly catting with Jenna. What was it with those two, he wondered?

Don sighed to himself. One thing he was sure of was that this track would bomb if the group couldn’t get on. If it could be done well, the music would be dynamite, no doubt about it. It was just a question of getting these kids to bond, and work together.

‘Zac, wait a second,’ he shouted, a note of appeasement in his voice. ‘What do you say we take a break for a while – order some food, then work through the night to get this thing nailed?’

Zac hesitated for a moment.

‘Okay,’ he replied casually, pulling out his iPhone. ‘I’ll just call Amber, tell her I’m going to be late.’

Don looked at Zac with relief, and a grudging respect. ‘Thanks,’ he commented.

‘No problem,’ said Zac with a shrug.



An hour later, the group sat flaked out on the vast, welcoming sofas in the chill-out room adjoining the studio. The pungent smell of Nick’s spliff hung heavily in the air, and the table was littered with discarded takeaway boxes, crushed beer cans and empty bottles of champagne. The alcohol was flowing freely, but had only heightened the emotions that existed previously; Jenna and Nick were flirting like crazy, and Zac had sunk deeper into his dark mood. He sat on the floor with his back against the sofa, his taut, denim-clad legs stretched out across the carpet as he drank in silence.

Don shot a quick glance at Jenna and Nick. Noting that they were both laughing loudly, engrossed in each other, he leaned forward to talk to Zac.

‘Work with me here, man,’ pleaded Don. ‘There’s a really strange vibe, and I can’t work out what’s going on with you guys. We need it all to come right,’ he continued, as Zac remained unresponsive, looking blankly ahead. ‘Is this going to work or not? Because I’ll tell you something for nothing – at the moment, this is looking like an extremely expensive disaster.’

Zac didn’t say anything, but took a long drink of his beer.

‘I can’t work with her Don,’ he said finally.

‘I know she can be a little difficult,’ Don sympathized, ‘but surely you can cut her some slack?’

‘A little difficult?’ exploded Zac, struggling to keep his voice low. ‘She’s lazy, stubborn; she treats this whole thing as a game. She just won’t take anything seriously.’

‘Hey, she’s not that bad,’ Don laughed, surprised at the vehemence of Zac’s outburst.

Zac raised an eyebrow.

‘There’s nothing wrong with having a good time,’ Don said gently. ‘This whole process is supposed to be enjoyable, you know, not some kind of endurance test.’

‘Don’t blame me,’ retorted Zac. ‘What are you saying? That if I’d lighten up a little then everything would be okay? That I’m the one causing the problem?’

‘Hey, calm down,’ said Ryan lightly. He moved across to sit closer to them. ‘That’s not what Don was saying. Yeah, we’re having a few problems, and we gotta work through them. But you can’t blame Jenna for not being Josh.’

‘I know that. It’s just …’ Zac paused, and his brow creased as he struggled to find the right way to explain himself. ‘I accept that Josh’s gone, and it’s not going to be the same. But it shouldn’t be this difficult to work with someone new. I get the feeling that with anyone else it would have been easier, whereas with her …’ Zac trailed off, and they all glanced across to see Jenna – whether by accident or design – rearrange her endless, tanned legs so that her deliberately demure knee-length skirt rode a little higher up her thighs, the clinging fabric wrapping tightly around her shapely butt.

‘I know what you mean,’ Ryan conceded, dragging his eyes away. ‘She’s probably not the easiest person to work with – and Nick doesn’t always help the situation. But sometimes I think you don’t give Jenna enough credit. She really wants this to work.’

Zac made a noncommittal noise.

‘It’s got to be intimidating for her too,’ continued Ryan. ‘We’ve been with Josh for so long, then suddenly she has to step into his shoes and there’s no guarantee it’ll work. There’s no guarantee everyone will like her – us or the fans.’

‘She doesn’t look like the type of girl to be intimidated by anything,’ Zac muttered, darting a look across the room to where Jenna was giggling as she gulped down another mouthful of champagne.

‘Oh come on, Zac. She might act confident, but you can tell a lot of it’s just a front. I’m sure she’s nervous as hell really, so try and go easy on her, yeah?’

‘She just … gets under my skin,’ finished Zac lamely.

‘Yeah …’ nodded Don, looking thoughtfully at Zac.

‘Oh, that feels good!’ squealed Jenna from the other side of the room.

They all looked across to see Jenna’s shoes discarded on the floor, her right foot in Nick’s lap where he was drunkenly attempting to massage it.

‘Ohhhhhh, right there,’ Jenna groaned, flexing her foot in pleasure and squeezing it against Nick’s thigh.

Nick felt himself grow instantly hard and pressed his fingertips into the delicate skin of her foot, mesmerized at the way she was writhing around on the carpet, arching her back and moaning. Yeah, she’d look pretty damn good rolling around on a rug in front of a roaring fireplace, Nick thought to himself. Maybe he should buy a place in Aspen and fly her out there. He moved her foot to one side, gently opening her legs a little. If he could just get her legs a little wider, he’d be able to see right up her skirt, Nick realized. His cock was chafing against his pants so hard it hurt. Man, imagine if she wasn’t wearing panties – he’d be able to see her, ready and waiting for him. Imagine that – Jenna Jonsson lying in front of him wearing nothing but a thin scrap of fabric. He wondered if she was a natural blonde. Or maybe she was waxed, with just a little landing strip to guide him in. If they were alone, all he would have to do would be to walk over and yank up her skirt – take her right there over the sofa.

Nick knew she wanted him, and the thought made him feel uncontrollably aroused. Maybe if the other guys were engrossed in their own conversation, no one would notice if he just moved a little closer and ran his hand along those soft, yielding thighs before slipping a finger inside of her. He’d stroke her ever so gently, and feel her get wetter and wetter, until she was begging him to give it to her. Or maybe she would touch herself and he would just watch …

‘What are you boys talking about?’ Jenna demanded to know, realizing that the others were heavily involved in conversation. She jumped up, pulling her foot from Nick’s hand and leaving him flushed and alone on the floor.

‘We were, er, discussing how the record’s coming,’ replied Don uncertainly.

‘Oh fantastic,’ gushed Jenna, as she picked her way across the room, stepping delicately over the discarded pizza boxes and making no attempt to pull down her skirt which had ridden up to show acres of toned, tanned thigh, kept a beautiful shade of honey brown thanks to her regular St Tropez treatments.

‘So how do you think it’s all coming along? I’m thrilled with the way it’s turning out – I’m having an amazing time working with you all,’ Jenna told them earnestly. The champagne had gone to her head, but she meant every word she said. Squeezing herself onto the sofa in between Zac and Don, she purred, ‘You’re all so incredibly talented.’

Zac bit down hard on his lip. He’d told Ryan he’d try and go a little easier on her, but he wasn’t sure it was a promise he could keep. He swallowed, trying to prevent himself from saying something he’d regret. He could feel the warmth of her body next to his, could smell the Chanel No. 5 that she had optimistically spritzed on that morning as part of her new image.

Zac stood up suddenly, causing Jenna to lose her balance on the sofa. She burst into giggles as Don helped her upright.

‘I should get going,’ Zac announced, struggling to keep his temper. Everything Jenna did drove him crazy. ‘I told Amber I’d be back as soon as I could, and we’re obviously not going to get any more done here tonight.’

‘Maybe we could work on the track some more now?’ Jenna asked hopefully.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ shot back Jenna, her eyes flashing dangerously as she began to get defensive.

Zac paused and took a deep breath, remembering his vow not to get mad with her. ‘Well, look at Nick,’ he tried to joke. ‘He’s hardly in any fit state to play, is he?’

Nick was laid out on the floor, his blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. ‘Are we done here?’ he asked, struggling to sit up. ‘You want a ride home, Jenna?’ He tried to focus on her face, but he could see two of her. He liked the idea of two of her.

Jenna smiled. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll just call my driver.’

‘It’s no trouble, really, it’s on my way,’ slurred Nick.

A natural-born charmer, Nick was used to getting what he wanted. From girls to money to a place in one of the world’s biggest bands, life came easy to Nick.

Zac forced a laugh, trying to make light of the situation. ‘You’re wasted, Nick – there’s no way you can drive, not even the few blocks over to Jenna’s. You’d be DUI’d the second you get behind the wheel.’

‘You live close by?’ asked Ryan, turning to Jenna. Jenna nodded, wondering how Zac knew. She was pretty sure she hadn’t mentioned it. ‘I can give you a ride if you want,’ Ryan continued.

‘Hey, I’m a proper Southern gent. I’ve gotta make sure the lady gets home safely,’ roared Nick.

‘She’ll be fine, Nick. Which is more than can be said for you,’ muttered Zac.

‘Would that be okay?’ Jenna asked Ryan uncertainly. ‘I hate to bother my driver so late, and if you’re sure it’s not out of your way …?’

‘Not a problem,’ Ryan replied generously. ‘I haven’t been drinking anyway, ’cos Kelly hates it when I come home trashed.’

‘Thanks,’ replied Jenna, giving him a broad smile that lit up her face.

‘Jenna, I will give you a ride home,’ declared Nick, attempting to get to his feet as he waved his arms expansively. ‘It is absolutely no problem for me – don’t listen to what these bastards are saying. Or we can just share a cab to my hotel,’ he added, with a wink.

‘It’s fine, it really is,’ Jenna insisted, tempted though she was to take up Nick’s offer and spend the night in some decadent suite where they could fuck so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. But she didn’t think that would go down too well with the others – Zac would probably fire her for lack of professionalism. ‘I’ll get a lift with Ryan.’

‘Ryan,’ Nick whined, his forehead creased in an expression of bitter disappointment. ‘But that’s not fair. You’re married!’

‘Which is why she’ll be safer with him than with you,’ explained Don firmly. ‘Now let’s call you a car.’

‘This is totally unfair,’ complained Nick.

‘Quit acting like a jerk,’ snapped Zac, tiring of Nick’s behaviour. ‘I’ll see you guys tomorrow,’ he added shortly, as he headed for the door.

‘Do you want a ride too?’ asked Ryan. ‘I don’t mind the drive.’

‘No, thanks. I’ll make my own way back.’

Zac glared at Jenna and walked out of the door.




7


‘Ryan?’ asked Jenna.

She settled back comfortably into the vast seats of his Range Rover, watching the bright lights of London flash by. It was drizzling lightly outside, and Jenna’s breath on the window caused it to steam up, obstructing her view. She shivered slightly, realizing with a stab of annoyance that she’d left her jacket in the studio.

‘Yeah?’ asked Ryan. Following his GPS he signalled right, turning from the main street with its parade of shops into a wealthy-looking residential area, lined with beautiful white stucco-fronted houses.

Jenna hesitated. ‘Why does Zac dislike me so much?’ she finally asked.

Ryan’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead. ‘He does like you Jenna,’ he began uncertainly, his words lacking sincerity. ‘It’s just that … oh, I don’t know. He does like you Jenna, don’t worry about it,’ he reiterated.

‘Oh come on, Ryan,’ shot back Jenna, her voice rising slightly as she felt herself beginning to get upset. ‘You’ve seen what he’s like with me – he can’t stand me. He won’t talk to me, he barely looks at me …’

‘Hey, it’s not that bad,’ Ryan insisted, worriedly glancing across at her. ‘He’s having a little trouble adjusting after working with Josh, but he doesn’t hate you Jenna.’

‘I don’t know what else I can do,’ she continued desperately, as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘I’ve tried to make him like me, I really have. I so want this to work. And now it’s causing a problem with the band, and Don’s getting pissed off with me …’ Jenna trailed off, her breath coming fast.

‘Don’s not pissed off with you,’ reassured Ryan, sounding surprised. ‘Why do you think that?’

‘Next street on the left,’ snuffled Jenna, trying to keep her voice steady as she felt the tears gathering in her eyes. She almost wished she hadn’t started the conversation, knowing that if she began to cry she wouldn’t stop. But she had to know. The situation was depressing her, stifling her enjoyment of what should have been one of the most exciting and creative periods of her career.

‘Look, don’t take any notice of Zac,’ said Ryan dismissively, trying to keep his tone light. ‘That’s just what he’s like.’

‘No, he’s not,’ Jenna protested. ‘Everyone who’s worked with him says he’s the sweetest guy, and I’ve seen what he’s like with everyone else. He gets on fine with them, and they all love him. It’s just me he’s got a problem with.’

‘Jenna, sweetheart, please don’t beat yourself up about this,’ Ryan implored, wishing there was something he could say to make her feel better. It was heartbreaking listening to how upset and vulnerable she sounded. ‘Zac’s obviously got some problems at the moment – he is being a little different, yeah. But we’re all feeling the brunt of it too.’

Jenna bit her lip, looking unconvinced.

Ryan sighed. ‘I promise you, Jenna, it’s got nothing to do with you,’ he insisted, not knowing if it was true or not, but feeling that it was the right thing to say.

‘There’s parking just here on the right,’ Jenna told him with a sniff. ‘He’s said he thinks I’m lazy, but I swear I’m not, Ryan,’ she insisted, her eyes shining wet with tears.

‘Jenna, don’t get upset,’ pleaded Ryan, his brow creasing in worry as he swung into the parking spot and turned off the ignition.

‘I’m working so hard to please everyone, and he just doesn’t care!’ The tears began to flow and Jenna let them run freely.

‘Jenna …’ began Ryan, reaching across the seat towards her. He held her awkwardly and she clung to him, her body wracked with sobs. Ryan took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He wished he knew what to say to her; he felt so useless and awkward, unaccustomed to dealing with such emotional outbursts. His hands felt large and protective as he held her tiny frame, breathing in the faint smell of her perfume.

‘Jenna,’ Ryan began, as he sat up and disentangled himself from her. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face. ‘I think you should head on in and get yourself a good night’s sleep. It’s been a stressful night, and I’m sure you’ll feel better tomorrow. Get a big glass of juice or something, help you sober up.’ The words came out clumsily, reflecting Ryan’s discomfort. He was tired and he wanted to get home to his wife and kids – Kelly would probably be waiting up for him, he realized.

‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry Ryan,’ Jenna apologized, embarrassed as she wiped her eyes. ‘I’m just being silly – you’ve been so good to put up with me.’

‘No problem,’ Ryan mumbled.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments as Jenna rubbed her eyes tiredly, running a finger underneath her eyelashes to try and wipe off the smudged mascara. Finally, she spoke. ‘I hate to ask after all this, but could you do me one favour?’

‘I guess,’ Ryan shrugged.

‘I really don’t like getting in by myself – the house is so big and quiet. It was stupid of me to buy it really,’ she smiled. ‘It’s far too big for one person, and I sometimes get a little freaked out. Tonight especially, I’m feeling so on edge. Would you come in with me, just for a few minutes until I’m settled?’ Ryan paused and Jenna forced a smile. ‘You’ll get a free cup of coffee out of it.’

‘I don’t know …’ he began slowly. ‘I should be heading back. Kelly’s expecting me, and I don’t want to be too late.’

‘But it would only be for a few minutes …’ Jenna saw Ryan hesitate and felt her cheeks grow hot as the anger rose in her chest. Deep down, she knew it wasn’t his fault, but she desperately needed someone to lash out at. ‘Okay, fine. Forget it,’ she snapped furiously, her eyes blazing. ‘None of you like me, do you? We should just call this whole thing off right now because it’s obviously not going to work. Apologize to the rest of the guys for me, would you – that’s if they even care!’

Jenna jumped down from the car and slammed the door.

‘Shit,’ swore Ryan, leaping out of the Range Rover. ‘Jenna! Jenna, wait,’ he yelled, running after her across the street. ‘Jenna,’ he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulder.

She had reached the doorstep of her house and swung round to face him. It was raining harder now, and her hair streamed out wildly behind her, her face accusing and streaked with mascara.

‘Jenna, I’m so sorry,’ Ryan apologized. He looked at her worriedly, aware of the commotion they were making in the quiet street. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to the pair of them. ‘Look, I’ll come in with you and we’ll get you a drink, get you sorted out, and it’ll all be okay. Come on,’ he added, resting a hand on her back as he led her into the house.

‘I’m just going to go and freshen up a little,’ said Jenna as they stepped into the entrance hall, feeling embarrassed about the way she must look.

‘Okay.’ Ryan stood awkwardly in the corridor, not sure where to go as she disappeared upstairs. ‘Can I make you a drink?’ he yelled after her.

‘Sure, coffee would be great,’ Jenna shouted back.

Ryan looked around him, trying to work out which direction the kitchen was in. The Holland Park house was undeniably gorgeous. Designed by the Candy brothers, the interior was modern and dramatic, all sleek furniture and a neutral colour scheme broken up by stunning statement pieces. The contemporary style belied the ‘Old England’ appearance of the exterior, with its white stone walls, wrought-iron balconies and potted bay trees either side of the heavy black door.

Inside it was very tidy and somewhat devoid of personal items – Ryan got the impression that Jenna probably didn’t spend a lot of time there. I can sympathize with that, he thought, remembering how in the early days when the band were trying to break through, they’d toured incessantly, spending months on end away from home. He’d married young and started a family almost immediately but, despite the pressure, he and Kelly had got through it. Not everyone had been quite so lucky, he realized, thinking of Zac and his ex-wife Jessica.

Having located the kitchen, the kettle had just boiled when Jenna walked in. Her face was clean of make-up, but her eyes were still puffy and her cheeks were more flushed than normal, betraying her earlier outburst.

‘You shouldn’t drink coffee at this time of night. I made you some tea instead,’ Ryan said, pouring out the water. ‘I’ve been in England for a few days now so I think I’ve got the hang of it,’ he grinned.

‘Thanks,’ smiled Jenna. Their fingers brushed as she took the mug from him.

‘Careful. It’s hot,’ warned Ryan.

‘I’ll be careful,’ Jenna teased, blowing gently across the top of the mug. She realized Ryan was watching her and wiped her eyes self-consciously.

‘I hate the way I look when I cry,’ Jenna explained shyly. ‘My eyes swell up and I look like a pig.’

Ryan laughed. ‘Well, you’d have to be the cutest pig I’ve ever seen,’ he answered clumsily.

‘Gee, thanks,’ Jenna replied, but she was laughing as she led the way through to the magnificent living room. It was located at the back of the house, a huge, high-ceilinged room with long, full-length windows looking out onto an impressive expanse of garden. The lounge was largely minimalist, with buttercream walls and pale furniture; only the ostentatious gold and crystal chandelier, and the gilt candlesticks over the fireplace, added a touch of drama to the otherwise muted room. Jenna plopped down on one of the squashy cream sofas, and Ryan joined her.

‘God, I’m so tired,’ Jenna yawned, resting her head against the soft fabric.

‘It must be the stress,’ commented Ryan, taking a sip of his tea. ‘You’ve had a hard day.’

‘Yeah, I’ll say,’ agreed Jenna. She paused, listening to the rain falling against the windows. ‘Am I just being stupid, Ryan? I mean, am I completely overreacting to everything, and just annoying the hell out of the rest of you?’

She looked so earnest, her beautiful green eyes open wide in anguish, that Ryan smiled.

‘Of course not,’ he reassured her. ‘We’ll get there. It’s new to us all, and it’s just going to take time. Zac’s having a harder time adjusting than we are, that’s all. It’s nothing personal.’

Jenna smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

‘And I’d think the attention Nick gives you more than makes up for it.’

Jenna grinned, squirming with embarrassment. ‘He’s terrible, isn’t he? I bet he’s like that with everyone,’ she commented carefully, feeling her heart begin to race a little.

‘Hell, I don’t know really,’ Ryan lied, trying to avoid the subject. ‘He’s always had quite an eye for the ladies. But I’d say he really likes you,’ he added quickly, as Jenna’s face fell.

‘It’s okay, I know what he’s like,’ she admitted. ‘I know it’s just fun, and I enjoy it. It’s such a dream even working with you guys.’

‘We’re not that special,’ Ryan shook his head.

‘Millions of fans can’t be wrong,’ Jenna grinned, as she lay down on the couch and closed her eyes. Neither of them spoke as Ryan drained his tea.

‘You really like him, don’t you?’ he asked Jenna gently. ‘Nick, I mean.’

‘I don’t know. Well … yeah,’ she admitted drowsily. ‘Don’t tell him though, will you? He’s big-headed enough already.’

‘I won’t,’ Ryan promised.

There was a long pause as Jenna snuggled down on the sofa. Eventually, she spoke, her voice sounding slow and distant. ‘Yeah, I do like him,’ she confessed sleepily.

‘Just be careful, yeah?’ Ryan urged. But Jenna didn’t respond. Her breathing was regular and slow, and Ryan realized she was asleep. He checked his watch – just after midnight. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Ryan climbed off the sofa. When he reached the door he paused for a few moments, thinking how beautiful she looked – so innocent and vulnerable, almost childlike, with her long, blonde hair tumbling over her face, and her skin cleansed of make-up. Then he turned and hurried back down the corridor, noiselessly opening the front door and letting himself out. The silent street appeared deserted as he climbed back into the Range Rover and drove off.



Jenna woke groggily from a deep sleep, wondering why her limbs ached so badly. Sunlight streamed in through the high arched windows and, as Jenna slowly opened her eyes, she was shocked to realize she’d slept all night on the sofa.

Blearily, she glanced up at the wall clock: 9.50 a.m.

‘Shit,’ she swore, wondering what time she was due in the studio that day. Oh well, she shrugged, deciding she didn’t care. They could damn well wait for her. Let Ryan explain why she might be a little late, Jenna thought drowsily, as the events of last night began to come back to her.

Last night. What had happened exactly? Oh God, groaned Jenna, as she rolled over and buried her head in the cushions. Had she made a complete fool of herself? She remembered flirting outrageously with Nick, and then Ryan had brought her home … Oh no, she’d been really upset – she remembered yelling at him in the street. Shit, how embarrassing.

Ryan had been sweet though. He was such a nice guy, and hopefully he wouldn’t hold her behaviour against her. She just hoped it didn’t get back to Zac – he already thought she was acting like a diva, and she didn’t want him to know that he had upset her so badly.

I’ll show him, Jenna insisted, pushing last night’s feelings of insecurity out of her mind. Letting her emotions run out of control was not the way she had got to the top, Jenna reminded herself. Today, she would be completely in command.

She stretched luxuriously in an effort to shake some of the heaviness from her limbs. She needed to start getting a handle on her life. She had been so stressed and tired last night that she hadn’t even made it to bed – hell, her standards were really slipping. Thank God she’d taken off her make-up when she got in, Jenna thought, reaching up to touch her face. It felt soft and smooth, and Jenna sighed with relief; the last thing she needed was a break-out on top of everything else.

Sitting up carefully, Jenna swung her long legs over the end of the sofa and paused. She needed a glass of water – or maybe some coffee; rocket fuel would certainly get her going. Picking up the empty tea mugs, Jenna padded through to the kitchen. While she was waiting for the kettle to boil, she flicked on her laptop.

‘Oh fuck, no. Oh Jesus!’ swore Jenna as she logged on to TMZ and saw the lead story.




8


The offices of Willis & Bourne were located on the twenty-fourth floor of the Broadgate Tower, in the heart of London’s Square Mile. Paul Austin, as a senior executive, had a private office at the far end of the corridor, guarded by his PA. As the early morning sun filtered through the tinted windows, Paul sat behind his kidney-shaped desk, leafing through a copy of the Financial Times. There was an unfavourable report on a Japanese telecoms firm in which he’d just invested a large portion of his clients’ money. It did not make for happy reading. Irritably, he tossed the paper aside and turned his attention to the Internet, flicking through share prices, business headlines and breaking news.

One headline caught his attention – it involved Jenna Jonsson. Paul read swiftly through the article and found himself even more interested. So, Miss Jonsson wasn’t as squeaky clean as she made out, it seemed, and some lucky guy was getting to bang her. Paul’s cock leapt in his pants at the very thought of it. Jenna was one hot piece of ass – he’d have sold his own grandmother for a fuck with Jenna. Then again, Paul Austin would willingly have sold out his grandmother for a lot of things in life – loyalty was not one of his defining traits.

Paul’s interest in Jenna went beyond that of the casual voyeur or horny teenager. As of last month, she was one of his newest clients. It was still fresh in his mind, the way she’d strutted into his office dressed like Business Barbie, in a tight pencil skirt that showed off her high, round butt, and a low-cut white blouse that strained against her tits every time she leaned forward. Of course, she’d brought her manager with her, some jumped-up flunky in a suit who’d watched Paul’s every move like a hawk, so he’d had to keep things professional. He’d talked at length about dry stuff – real estate in Bulgaria, mineral mining in South Africa, investment yields, long-term trends and so on. She’d nodded that pretty little head and all he’d been thinking about was how much he’d like to put his dick between those luscious, glossy lips and force it deep into the back of her throat until she gagged.

It was highly unusual for a client of that calibre to visit him in his office – usually it was a question of their accountant contacting him directly and all communication went through them. But he gathered she’d been on some kind of independence kick since her mother died. Wanting to take over her own affairs, manage her own money or some such bullshit. Stick to singing, sweetheart, thought Paul with a sneer.

But hell, as long as it had led Jenna Jonsson straight to his office, who was he to complain? Maybe next time he could get her to come over without that ape of a manager. He could ring her up with some spurious excuse; pretend to be consulting her because he really valued her opinion on whether they should invest in American pharmaceuticals or ethical fashion in India. They could conduct business over dinner. Or in a hotel room. Yeah, that’s the kind of business he’d like to conduct with her …

Which reminded him …

‘Come through please, Angela,’ he requested, pressing a button on his phone. Angela Lee was his PA. She was in her mid-thirties, short and a little on the chunky side, with mousy hair cut into a bob and black-rimmed glasses. It was better that way. In the past Paul had hired a succession of attractive and willing temps, but numerous affairs and one narrowly avoided harassment claim later, he’d plumped for the plain yet capable Angela.

She arrived in his office with her notebook and pen at the ready. Her clothes were smart, and she’d made an effort with her make-up, Paul noticed, wondering whether to point it out. He decided not to. ‘I’d like you to order something for me.’

‘Yes?’ Angela gazed up at him, her expression eager to please.

‘Well, when I say for me, I really mean for a friend of mine,’ he smirked, as Angela pressed her lips into a disapproving line. She knew what was coming – it wasn’t the first time he’d made this request.

‘I’d like you to order some lingerie. The recipient’s name is Sadie Laine and I’ll email you the address. Get something from Agent Provocateur. Something red and trashy.’ If Sadie was going to behave like a whore, he’d treat her like one.

‘What size?’ Angela’s pen hovered above her notepad.

Paul sat back in his ergonomic chair, brushed a piece of lint from his Gieves & Hawkes bespoke suit and looked her over appraisingly. Behind him the wide glass windows offered a stunning panoramic view over the City, the world’s financial hub where billions of dollars were traded every day by the rich and powerful. They were the Masters of the Universe. Men like Paul Austin were untouchable and they made their own rules.

‘I’m not sure exactly.’ He pretended to consider the issue. ‘She’s considerably thinner than you are – she works out, you see. You don’t go to the gym, do you Angela?’

Cheeks flaming, Angela shook her head. She made a mental note to join tomorrow.

‘I didn’t think so. She has a flat stomach, slim hips.’ His eyes trailed over Angela’s body, coming to rest on her chest. ‘And her breasts are larger than yours. Do you think you can work out the sizing from that, hmm? Just do your best, sweetheart.’

‘I will,’ Angela assured him. Her face was still flushed from the way his gaze had lingered on her breasts. She found herself wondering who his latest floozy was – where she lived, what she looked like. What she had that Angela didn’t …

Over the months that she had worked for him, Angela had seen a string of mistresses come and go, one after the next, all at the beck and call of Paul Austin. He didn’t seem to realize that Angela was waiting for him, ready to fulfil his every desire. No matter how hard she tried with her appearance – skirts getting shorter, outfits tighter and more revealing – he rarely paid her a second glance.

She knew she was a walking cliché, the wistful secretary in love with her boss, but she couldn’t help herself. She regularly found herself wondering what it would be like to be the wife of a man like Mr Austin. Angela had never been the pretty girl, the popular girl that all the boys wanted. When the women in the office went on a night out, Angela was never invited. She would see them in the toilets on Friday evenings, applying lip gloss and styling their hair, all chattering and laughing, and she longed to be part of that group. She knew that dating someone like Paul Austin would bring her instant status. If she was with him, they would have to be nice to her. They would have to treat her with respect.

Instead, Angela spent her Friday nights at home in her dingy studio flat, dreaming of the day when Mr Austin would finally notice her as something more than his über-efficient secretary. She would curl up in her lonely bed and let her hands slip down between her legs, wrapped up in the fantasy, imagining him striding masterfully across the office towards her and …

She realized she’d been staring at him. He was looking at her, an amused expression on his handsome face. ‘Is everything okay, Angela?’

‘Fine.’ She recovered herself. ‘Fine. Will there be anything else?’ she asked, trying to keep the hopeful note out of her voice.

‘I think that’s everything.’ Angela turned to go but Paul stopped her. ‘Oh, have there been any messages for me?’

‘Yes.’ Angela checked her notepad and made a face. ‘Your wife called. She said not to forget that you’re having dinner with John and Melissa Van Nordstrom, and if you could try to get home early because the boys have been asking to see you.’

‘Thank you,’ Paul said smoothly, not displaying the slightest trace of conscience over having his PA juggle his wife and mistress.

If she was being honest with herself, Angela knew her boss could be a complete and utter shit. But that didn’t stop him being the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on. There was something magnetic about him, a confidence and charisma that drew women in. She knew he wasn’t happy with his wife – that was obviously the reason he had so many affairs. Angela could make him happy, she felt sure of it. All she needed was an opportunity.



‘One two three four, cross turn slam change. Good. And again …’

Sadie was sweating hard. She felt it trickle down her back, beading between her breasts as the dance teacher issued rapid staccato instructions, rattling them off like a machine gun. Behind his voice was the hard pounding of some underground R’n’B track, a relentless beat as the singer rapped over the top. It was turned up so loud that the windows vibrated.

She was at a hip-hop class at Danceworks, the dance studio just off Bond Street. Around her the young and gorgeous gyrated and grooved, all united in one purpose: to dance. Beside her was a sexy mixed-race guy with a shaved head and a tight white vest. His body was ripped, his muscles bulging; it was incredible to Sadie how such a big guy could move with such precision and swiftness. To her right, a girl with backcombed, dirty-blonde hair and grey jogging bottoms rolled up to her knees ran through the steps as if she’d been born doing them. Their moves were fast and sharp, their attitudes fierce. They revelled in the physicality, the sheer joy of movement.

Sadie was locked in concentration, trying to master the complicated routine. She knew she needed to just let loose and feel the moves, but she couldn’t seem to relax. It was over a month since she’d attended a dance class and her body was letting her down. In frustration, she swiped a hand across her forehead. Despite the chilly day outside, the studio was baking and the large standing fans did little to cool it. Sadie had pulled her dark hair back into a tight ponytail, but strands were working loose as she danced, plastering themselves to her damp cheeks. She was wearing an ancient pair of baggy black drawstring pants and a loose white vest top. The laid-back clothes emphasized her long, lean limbs with their sinewy muscles. Her breasts were small and sharp through the thin cotton top, her stomach flat and toned. She looked like a dancer. She looked fantastic.

‘One and two and three and yeah, punch, punch, stop, roll …’

Jeez, this guy was relentless! But Sadie was determined to get it. She realized how long it was since she’d properly worked out. Moves that used to be easy, automatic, now took effort. And she tired quickly – her stamina was shot, and she was sweating like a man. But she couldn’t deny that the buzz was there. The adrenaline was pumping, the endorphins rushing through her body, giving her that sweet natural high that she craved. This was what she loved and she was excited to be back out there. She was up for the challenge, willing to do whatever it took to fulfil her ambitions.

To raise the stakes, Sadie imagined this wasn’t a class but a real performance. Gone were the grimy mirrored walls, the dusty floor and the pile of abandoned exercise mats in the corner. In her mind she was out there, live on stage in front of thousands of people with all eyes focused on her so she couldn’t mess up. She saw herself standing alone in the darkness with a single spotlight picking her out as she wowed the crowd. The thought unconsciously made her up her game – her movements became sharper, her head snapped up and her eyes came alive with that joyous sparkle that couldn’t be faked. Was this what Jenna Jonsson felt like, she wondered suddenly? Was this what she experienced every day, this rush from being watched, adored and idolized?

‘Okay, one final time, make it good people, give it everything …’

Sadie barely heard the teacher as he restarted the music. Her body was racing through the steps instinctively, her mind not stopping to think. This was blissful – she felt like she was flying. She was strong, sexy and powerful. She felt her body move, her hips grinding, pelvis rolling, ribs slinking from side to side. For a second she closed her eyes, imagining the adoring crowd below her, wowed by her every movement and in awe of her talent.

Then the fantasy changed and she imagined she was dancing for Paul. She visualized his face in the crowd as she put on the performance, his pale blue eyes trained on her intensely, that handsome face unable to tear his gaze away from her. He’d probably come in his pants right there, she thought with a grin. He’d love the way she was moving, all that rolling and grinding. She couldn’t wait to see him again. She’d barely stopped smiling since that afternoon in the May Fair. Maybe she’d do a private show for him next time. Yeah, persuade him to book a suite somewhere with its own pole …

‘And pow! Hold the final position … and finish! Okay, great class people.’

The group collapsed, exhausted but elated. Some clapped – a few even whooped. Then they quickly dispersed.

Sadie headed downstairs to the changing rooms. Her limbs were aching but she felt amazing. She showered quickly, dressing casually in skinny jeans, vest top and a cropped jacket with an oversized scarf from H&M wound several times round her neck. She pinned her damp hair up and applied a little Maybelline mascara. She didn’t bother with any other make-up. She didn’t need to – her skin was flawless and glowing, flushed pink from the exercise and the hot shower. Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she headed back upstairs.

‘Bye Faye,’ she called out to the glamorous bleached blonde on reception.

‘Great to see you back again,’ Faye grinned, giving her a little wave.

Stepping outside, Sadie turned up towards Selfridges, wondering if she could afford to treat herself to a little something. Maybe a new lip gloss, or even a pair of shoes for her next date with Paul …

She felt her mobile vibrate in her bag, and her heart leapt. She hated to admit it, but her very first thought was that she hoped it was him. As she pulled it out, Sadie saw her agent’s name flashing on the caller display.

‘Hi Gill.’

‘Hi Sadie.’ Gill got straight down to business. ‘I’ve got you an audition for this afternoon. Three p.m. in Soho, can you make it?’

Sadie felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her stomach. Every audition was a chance to progress her career. Even if you didn’t get the job, there was always the opportunity to meet people and make new contacts. Who knew where it might lead?

‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘No problem. I’m in town at the moment and I’ve got my dance gear with me. What is it for?’

‘It’s a commercial,’ Gill explained. ‘For some new shampoo. You’re looking all down and miserable, then you use the shampoo and suddenly you’re up and dancing. The brief says elegant – you’re floating and twirling like a ballet dancer, not raving at the disco.’

‘Okay Gill, no problem.’

‘Excellent, I’ll text you the address. Have you picked up a copy of The Stage this week?’

‘Not yet …’

‘Get one. I’m not your skivvy, y’know – you’ve got to put some effort in too.’

‘Okay Gill, will do,’ Sadie smiled.

Gillian was always on the go, gabbling at a hundred miles an hour in that south London accent. She was a hustler, an ex-dancer who’d turned forty, divorced her husband and started her own agency. She tended to bark out details and Sadie kept her answers as short as possible.

‘Great. Speak to you later, hon.’ Gill hung up.

Swiftly, Sadie turned around, heading into the maze-like backstreets of Mayfair to find a newsagent. She had a spring in her step as she walked. Not only did she have a hot, sexy, loaded new guy, but her career was getting back on track as well. The hip-hop class had left her full of energy and boosted her confidence. She looked good and she knew it. She felt the familiar tingle of excitement and nerves at the prospect of an audition, but she was up for it, eager for the chance to get out there and prove herself. Yeah, Sadie Laine was back in the game and she was going to be more than just a contender – she wanted to be a serious player. With self-belief, hard work and a shed-load of talent, how could she possibly fail?

She found a newsagent and headed inside to pick up a copy of The Stage, but something else caught her attention. It was the headline on the front of every tabloid, and the accompanying photos of Jenna Jonsson and Ryan Jackson.

Well, well, well, thought Sadie, her mood brightening even more as she saw the battering her old rival was getting from the papers. Looks like both of us got laid last night.




9


‘Jenna, what the fuck is going on?’ Gerry King screamed down the phone.

‘I don’t know, Gerry, I don’t know. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I swear nothing happened – it’s all lies, I promise,’ Jenna apologized hysterically.

‘I’ve been trying to get through all fucking morning – where the hell have you been?’

‘I’m sorry, Gerry, I’ve only just woken up. I guess my mobile was off and—’

‘Jesus, it’s all right for some,’ interrupted Gerry, under his breath.

‘… And then this morning when I saw the news I turned it back on, but it wouldn’t stop ringing, Gerry, the phone just wouldn’t stop!’

‘Do you know what a mess this is Jenna? I’ve spent all fucking night trying to sort this out, while you were blissfully unconscious.’

‘I’m so sorry, Gerry.’ Jenna was crying now, struggling to get the words out. ‘It wasn’t my fault, I don’t know what …’ She trailed off, not even knowing what she was trying to say.

‘Look, get yourself over here and we’ll take care of it. Figure out some way to get out of this hole.’

‘Just tell them it’s all lies – sue their fucking arses.’

‘It might not be that simple,’ Gerry warned ominously. ‘I didn’t want to do anything before I spoke to you, but we need to put out a statement – my people can’t hold them off for much longer.’

‘You want me to come over? You think I’m in any state to go out?’ Jenna exploded. ‘I look like shit and there are a pack of photographers out there. Do you know how many people are out there, Gerry?’ she demanded. ‘The street’s packed and it’s absolute mayhem. My neighbours are going to be so pissed off,’ she added irrationally.

‘Okay, fair point,’ admitted Gerry, forcing himself to stay calm as he realized how upset Jenna was. ‘But I need to talk to you. I’ll come over, okay? Stay put until I get there.’

‘I’m hardly gonna go fucking shopping!’ screamed Jenna, but Gerry had hung up. She stared at the phone in her hand and it immediately began ringing again. Withheld number.

Out of some morbid curiosity she couldn’t quite explain, Jenna answered it. ‘Hello?’ she asked cautiously.




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