At that time Leah was going out with a guy from a rock band called Roll Over Beethoven. The drummer was single and she thought we might make a good team.

‘Everybody knows the best way to get over someone is to go out with someone else,’ she declared.

It seemed like a sensible idea. More sensible, anyway, than the fantasy love affair I was having with an unattainable pop idol. His name was Colton and he was sexy in a moody, grungy sort of way. The exact opposite of Cash. He dressed only in black, and I think he probably colored his hair jet black too, but he was a sweet guy underneath it all, and he made me laugh.

It was easy to drink one beer too many, and let him take my V card in the back of his truck. We became an item. The sex was good, but it wasn’t the mind, body, and soul thing I was looking for, which was a real shame because he fell hard for me.

Then, one night I went to one of his gigs and I found him by the toilets with his trousers around his ankles and his dick inside another woman. I didn’t love him, but I was still shocked and hurt.

He looked at me with bitter eyes and said, ‘Now we’ve both cheated on each other.’

Then he turned away from me and carried on humping her. I fled the scene knowing I’d hurt him, but I told myself I would never do that to another human being again. The next time I start a relationship will be when I am well and truly over Cash Hunter.

My thoughts are interrupted by Victor stopping the car outside the house. Cash and Britney have not yet arrived, so I run up to my room and pace the floor. A million thoughts rush around in my head.

The big plan came to me when my aunt mentioned that a good friend of hers who worked in a recruitment agency in London had told her about an interesting job that had just come in. Cash Hunter’s father was looking for a young woman, 19 - 25 who was independent, tolerant, and possessed a strong sense of duty to act as a companion/PA to his daughter. No actual PA experience was needed.

That sounded like a description of me. I was all those things!

The plan was simple. Apply for the job as Britney’s PA, see Cash Hunter up close, and realize that he was just a manufactured, media created, playboy prick, and naturally and effortlessly fall out of love.

But at that time it seemed a very long shot since my aunt’s friend had already warned her there were hundreds of applicants. Imagine my astonishment when I was called for an interview and my shock when I actually got the job. I was convinced it was fate. It had to be. Me, chosen out of hundreds of applicants. I was meant to be here.

So here I am. Close enough to see Cash for what he really is.

Why then am I pacing the room like some caged animal?

I hear the distinct thunder of his Lambo, followed by voices on the street below. I run to the window to stand behind the curtains and watch them. Britney skips up the steps. He says something to her and she laughs.

I think I’m pacing because in spite of everything I’d told myself in the car … Cash Hunter is even more potent in the flesh than I gave him credit for, and it’s already pretty obvious that there’s no falling out of love with someone like him.

I freeze when I hear their voices come up the stairs. They stop at the top.

Then I hear Britney call out, ‘Sweet dreams.’

Quick light footsteps come towards my room.

‘Come in,’ I call when she knocks.

Britney puts her head around the door. She looks happy. ‘Just wanted to let you know that Cash is sleeping in the guest bedroom and Dad just came home so we’re off to buy me a birthday present, but we won’t be long because I know exactly what I want.’

I force a smile. ‘Great.’

‘By the way I’ve already told Cora we’re having chicken pie for dinner.’

‘That’s good,’ I say, stretching out my smile until my cheeks hurt.

After she goes I look at the time. It’s just after one. I had brunch so I’ll skip lunch and save myself for one of Cora’s lovely teatime treats. Unless I am mistaken, I believe she is making scones today. I open a magazine I picked up at the newsstand yesterday evening and go right to the horoscope page at the back of it. Hmmm … Aries.

Acting impulsively is not the best idea this week. Resist temptation. Don’t eat that last cookie in the packet. Instead, take stock, get your ducks in a row, and get ready for the best adventure of your life. Life is about to surprise you.

I read it again. Got it. Don’t act impulsively.

I flick the pages disinterestedly. Imagine my surprise when I turn a page and see a large picture of a shit-faced Cash in leather pants and silver shirt. A disheveled blonde is snuggled up to him. They are in a nightclub or restaurant. The title of the piece is:

On closer inspection I note from their reflection in the mirror behind them that his right hand is full of blondie’s butt. An inappropriate and quite frankly tasteless butt grab, but the blonde seems to dig it. She is looking up at him with an awed, stupid expression on her face. I let my eyes move over to his free hand. A sigh escapes my mouth. I’ve always loved his hands. They are big, strong and manly. Mooning over his hand, God, you’re lame. I leave the picture and start scrutinizing the next one.

That turns out to be a to-die-for picture of him at a sunny beach. All his lovely, hard muscles are on display and he is with a different blonde this time. This one is curvier and seems more self-assured. She has a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her head, one hand is resting on her tanned hip, and the other is placed possessively on his chest.

He’s always had a thing for blondes.

A stray thought pops into my head. I’m blonde.

I turn the page quickly and there is a full-page, black and white photo of him in a tux at some kind of award ceremony or music bash. This time I recognize the woman he is with. Octavia Harding, his manager. Except for her fake breasts, that actually look like two halves of a tennis ball shoved underneath her skin, she is two lean nuggets away from being an anorexic.

I don’t like her. I never have.

From the first moment I laid eyes on her I felt that there was something cold and malicious about her. A couple of times I have seen videos of her standing next to the band members, an arrogant smile stretching her crimson mouth; she actually makes my skin crawl.

I could easily have sat there gazing at his picture a bit longer, but I close the magazine with a snap and drop it into the wastepaper basket. Seeing the magazine in the bin makes me feel mildly victorious. I’ll conquer my silly crush if it is the last thing I do. I decide to have a bath. Britney will be at least an hour, and being in the bath always relaxes me. Allows me to think and clear my head.

I run the bath, pour in a whole load of fragrant bath cubes, put my hair into a messy topknot, and lower myself into the scented water. Mmmm … this was definitely one of my better ideas. I lean my head back against the folded towel and close my eyes.

Let’s think this thru.

I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself. First off, I’ve been in love with this guy for years. Obviously the first encounter is going to be either traumatic, disastrous, or both. It was both. So what? The worst is over. From now on I’m prepared. I’ve read the side effects warning label: This asshole is likely to break your heart.

The good thing is I now know just how hot he is and how strong he comes on and things will be different. If I just stay calm and unaffected, bit by bit he will reveal his true self and I’ll discover that he ain’t all that. Once I see that my memories of him are all flawed and he is far from perfect, I will realize that he is a hero only in my mind.

At that point I will either be put off, or better still, so totally sickened that I will wonder why I ever wasted so many years pining for him. On that happy day I will put in my notice and go on to my aunt’s house in Surrey and wait for Leah to join me for our victory backpacking tour of Europe.

Sitting here in this fragrant steam, I see clearly that I over reacted. There is nothing to worry about. Everything is under control. I’m in charge of my body and my decisions. And in a way it is good, because he has shown his hand. He tries it on with every female he meets. Slut. Manwhore. Womanizer. Prick.

So, now that I have redefined the parameters, I can relax. I wave my arms a little to circulate the hot water and exhale slowly.

‘Mmmm.’

I start to chill.

My mind wanders lazily away. I don’t check it. Whatcha gonna do? I’m in the bath. It goes to … Cash … no, not Cash, of course not Cash, just a man who looks like him. He is in bed. Between white silk sheets, his tan intense, some kind of lop-sided smile on his face. He pats the space next to him.

And I, I’m in a slinky black nightie, my hair’s freshly washed and bouncing like a shampoo advert as I walk up to him with a sexy, totally sophisticated smile. As I reach the bed, he is so eager for me he jumps me and throws me on the bed. Before I can say, ‘You called?’ he has his face between my thighs and starts feasting his heart out.

My fingers move to the hard nub between my legs. Swirl. Swirl. In the silky water. Ohhhh. Oh, Cash. Yes, Cash. Yes. Just like that. Oh, God, yes—

Suddenly everything in my head disappears with a jolt. My bathroom door slams open, and my eyes open wide. Oh Good Lord!

Cash freaking Hunter has dropped out of my fantasy and into my reality.