I leave the room I am in and go past the living room to the next bedroom. The door is open and I walk in. The room is empty, but it must be Cash’s bedroom because there are clothes laid out on the bed. I go towards the en-suite bathroom and stand at the doorway.

Cash has had his shower, his hair is wet and he is standing in front of the mirror with only a smallish towel around his hips. His face is full of shaving cream and there is only one strip that he has carved through the cream.

He freezes and we stare at each other in the mirror. It could have been really awkward me asking to borrow his shaver, so I smile and say, ‘Let me do that for you.’

I walk up to him and slide between him and the basin. There is a small smile tugging at his mouth. ‘I wasn’t planning on donating blood tonight,’ he says.

I take the razor from his unresisting hand. Very slowly I drag the razor down his cheek through the white foam.

His eyes never leave me.

‘Sometimes it’s a good idea to let someone else do the work,’ I whisper, as I dip the razor head in the sink filled with warm water and shake it to dislodge the cream and bits of hair. I run the razor down his face carefully, meticulously until every last hair is gone. Then I whip the towel from his hips, an act which makes his eyes widen, and use it to gently dab at his face.

‘See,’ I say softly, looking at his erect glory. ‘I was never after blood.’

His eyes are infused with lust. I feel wetness pool between my legs. He curls his large hands around my butt and lifts me up to the rim of the sink. He rips my panties off my body and opens my legs. Holding onto the thick knots of strong muscles in his shoulders, I bring my spread knees up almost to my shoulders.

He looks down between my legs, his eyes hot and hungry, and draws his fingers along my crack, already slick with juice.

I whimper.

He inserts a long finger into me.

‘Oh,’ I cry.

Laughing softly, he grabs my hips and thrusts so far into me my eyes widen and my mouth opens to a shocked O.

With his eyes blazing into mine he fucks me hard. The meaty sound of our flesh slapping, the sink creaking, and our grunts hit the marble tiles and echo around us. He pounds me relentlessly until I feel as if an enormous engine is being switched on inside me and its blades are starting to turn. Faster and faster they go until I am practically vibrating with the intensity of the coming climax.

‘I’m coming,’ I cry as the machine starts throwing out sparks. Trembling, twisting and jerking, I fall into the same fantastic void he plunges into.

Against my ear, he laughs, a lovely deep rumble. ‘That was the best shave I ever had.’

He pulls out and his seed trickles out of me. He leans forward and bites my lower lip.

I lean back and look into his eyes. They are heavy-lidded and dark with sensuality, and I feel suddenly sad. This should be my man. I already know that I’ll never get over him.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.

I shake my head. ‘Nothing,’ I whisper. Twisting my body around, I pick up the razor from the ledge where I left it. ‘I was actually after this,’ I say.

‘Nicely done,’ he says.

His laughter warm and rich, follows me until I close the door of my room. Without wasting any time, I go directly into the en-suite bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub I shave my legs. Then I go back into the bedroom and get into the beautiful gold and black dress. It fits like a dream.

I stand in front of the mirror and gape at myself. Wow! Incredible. I almost cannot believe what I look like. Who’d believe that I could look like a movie star on a red carpet?

I run to the shoe boxes and open them all. I could have gone with a gold pair or even with the inferno booties that I have seen in a magazine, but I fall in love with a fabulous pair carrying a label I have never heard of. Sophia Webster.

They have heels made out of shiny poppy-colored balls, and are the closest shoes can get to a true confection. They wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those old fashioned sweet shops. I secure the gold strap around my ankles and feel like a million dollars.

Quickly I open the other boxes. I find new cosmetics in one and in another I find hair accessories. I apply some smokey make-up to my eyes, a touch of blusher to the apples of my cheeks, and a slick of nude lip gloss. Then I put my hair up with some of the gold pins I find in the accessories box. I pull out a few loose tendrils to frame my face and neck. Then I walk over to the mirror and look at my reflection. The woman in the mirror doesn’t even look like me.

I take out my mobile and snap a couple of photos of myself to show Mom and Leah. There is a small black purse amongst the accessories. I drop the lip gloss, my credit card and my mobile into it and snap it shut. Picking up the black wrap that goes with the dress, I leave the room.

Cash is already in the living room. He’s wearing a cream dinner jacket with shawl lapels, a white dress shirt, a black silk bowtie, and slim cut black trousers. Everything is perfectly cut and gives him a rakish, devil-may-care appearance. At the sound of my arrival he turns, the bottle of beer on its way to his mouth stays suspended in the air. He doesn’t smile. Just stares at me as if even he can’t believe his eyes.

I feel myself start to flush.

He puts the beer bottle down on a counter and walks towards me. ‘Christ,’ he whispers.

I can see myself reflected in his eyes, an odd shaped pixie. I touch my hair self-consciously. ‘Am I overdressed or something?’

He smiles. A strange smile. ‘You’re not overdressed. You, Tori Diamond, are heartbreakingly beautiful.’

Time stands still. The world stops spinning. I even stop breathing. Cash Hunter thinks I’m heartbreakingly beautiful. Then I reach out a hand and pretend to straighten his already straight bowtie.

He holds out his elbow. ‘Shall we?’

I slip my hand through it.

‘I can’t get over your transformation, Wildcat,’ he murmurs, his eyes raking me from head to foot.

A stretch Mercedes with blacked out windows is waiting for us outside. As soon as we appear at the doorway, Cash’s security men — four enormous military types with sharp cold eyes — nod at him and snap into action. They rush towards the Mercedes and hold open the passenger doors. Cash settles me into the car, then goes around to the other side. As he slides in beside me, two black SUVs screech to a stop in front and at the back of the Mercedes.

I watch the burly men quickly pile into the two SUVs. They give the all clear signal and the Mercedes starts moving. We travel sandwiched between the two SUVs.

It is not a long journey to Brewer Street, right in the heart of Soho.