It was absolute mayhem backstage, and impossible to get close enough to the boys to speak to them properly; although Sienna, by virtue of her long legs, had managed to squeeze her way through the mob, and was now clinging onto Mikey like a limpet.

Sam was grinning wildly at Dan and giving him double thumbs-up over the heads of the adoring fans. He grinned back, mouthing ‘Later’ at her and miming swigging from a can of lager. As she watched, a middle-aged man in a black polo-neck sweater appeared out of nowhere at Dan’s side. He was speaking urgently into his ear and handing him a business card.

Oh, God! It had to be the man from Pistol Records. It had to be!

And from the delighted smile slowly creeping across Dan’s handsome face, it was. Sam watched as he shouted over to the other members of the band. One by one they managed to extricate themselves from the mob and get their arses over to where Dan was still talking to the A&R man.

And then Sam saw somebody else approaching the band. Somebody for whom the crowds were parting like the Red Sea, who stood at least a foot above the rest of the female fans. Sam recognized her immediately, of course – and it looked as though everybody else did, too.

With her wild mop of tangled black curls, slanting green eyes and scarlet-painted, bee-stung lips, Carlota da Silva was the coolest new model in London. Fresh off the plane from Brazil, she’d featured on the cover of nearly every glossy magazine in the last few months, as well as in all the gossip pages, as star guest at all the celeb parties. And she was making a beeline for Dan.

Her heart slowly sinking, Sam watched as Carlota da Silva, bold as brass, took Dan’s face in her hands and started to kiss him, pushing her phenomenal body, in its skin-tight black leather minidress, up against his. After a second or two of confused hesitation, Dan put his arms around her and started to kiss her back.

When Sam woke up the following morning, she was feeling a little stupid. Maybe she had overreacted, running off the way she had, but she simply hadn’t been able to bear to watch Dan running his hands all over that bloody supermodel. She should have stayed on to celebrate the band’s success, and find out about the man from Pistol Records, though. She realized that now.

Oh, well, she’d just have to go and apologize, pretend she’d suddenly been taken ill or something, and ask them all about it this morning.

She pulled on her dressing gown and padded down the wooden stairs to the bathroom.

The bathroom door opened and Carlota da Silva, her long black hair snaking around her smooth brown shoulders, the tiny towel wrapped around her body, barely covering her arse, walked out. She gave Sam a friendly smile and Sam tried her best to smile back.