The Monster of Fame (The Price of Fame Series) (3 page)

Understanding softened Dave’s expression, but when he spoke his voice was firm. “She’s not Cassie, Miles. She stays in.”

Hell. Dave knew about Cassie, he’d been Miles’s dad’s best friend for years and gave him the part of a judge on
Do You Have What It Takes?
. Anger meant Dave could be swayed once he’d vented it all out. This calm voice was firmer than he’d ever heard from Dave.

But Miles wouldn’t be swayed. If he had to keep her in the show in front of the camera, he’d find another way to persuade her to leave behind the scenes.

He knew Annabelle wasn’t Cassie. They were completely different people. Still, Anna’s extreme nerves suggested she wasn’t strong enough to fight the fame monster and win.

* * * *

Rehearsing for eight hours, seven days in a row was enough to exhaust even the strongest of souls. Anna had barely slept since she left her crowded, two bedroom house a week ago before arriving in London.

Nerves, anticipation, hope, and a blinding fear had her body clock knocked out of sync.

“I’m so scared I think I might wet my knickers,” Joanne, a dark-haired girl about the same age, whispered at Anna’s side as they lined up at the side of the stage.

Anna tried to laugh, but it sounded like she was being strangled. Must be the tension tightening every muscle in her body to the breaking point.

Backstage was a flurry of machinery and a far cry from glamorous. The cheap linoleum floor was well past its renewal date and the dull gray walls looked like they could use several coats of paint. It reminded Anna of the run-down primary school she’d attended as a child. Behind the scenes was nowhere near as fancy as she imagined.

“It will be fine. Same as your first time, just give it your all and hope for the best,” Anna tried to assure her new friend.

Most of the other contestants rarely spoke to unattractive girls like Anna. Luckily, Joanne wasn’t so shallow. She’d been Anna’s lifeline since she’d set foot in London and been ushered to a swanky hotel.

“I know. I just can’t believe everything relies on this. Then, if we do get through today and our mentors keep us on after tomorrow, next week it’s straight to performing in front of a live audience
and
the whole of Britain.” Joanne’s observation turned the heads of the others in line behind them.

Anna swallowed—hard. This was the part she might fail at. She could walk on stage in front of three people and pretend they weren’t there—even if she had to close her eyes to do it. But a full audience coupled with the whole of the UK watching from their living rooms? Already, her palms held a thin coat of sweat and shook impossibly.

You’re strong, remember? You can do this.
Anna closed her eyes as she sent herself silent encouragement. Why couldn’t she be a better liar? Maybe then she’d be able to convince herself.

“Let’s worry about it nearer the time.” No need to give herself premature heart failure worrying about how far she’d go. Deal with the live shows if and when they came. Her mum’s face flashed in front of her eyes and she remembered again why she couldn’t fail.

Mum needs me to get through. Failure is not an option.

“Next.” The stage director motioned his hand toward Anna. Her gut clenched as adrenalin pumped into her veins.
This is it, now or never.

Today, she’d opted for flats. They looked a bit daft with her leggings and floaty top, but she wouldn’t risk falling on her face like she almost did at the first audition. As she shuffled to the center of the stage, she made a determined effort not to look in the direction of Miles Oliver.

She’d promised herself that she would not acknowledge his presence, knowing perfectly well if she did irritation would make her lose all focus. Or worse, the skittery feelings when he looked at her with his intense eyes would make her dissolve into a puddle of emotion.

“Annabelle, it’s good to see you. What are you singing for us today?” Miles’s deep grumble shredded her resolve. Her eyes locked on his and she saw no antagonism or hostility there. A scattering of stubble darkened his jaw and highlighted a full mouth, curved into a smile.

Unable to look away, she answered him in a throaty voice unrecognizable to her own ears. “
Living on a Prayer.
”

His eyes widened, causing his eyebrows to move far up his forehead. She couldn’t stop from smiling then, liking that she’d surprised him.

“Begin when you’re ready,” Sander said, and she tore her attention from Miles to focus on the others. She nodded toward a member of the crew to her right and the music began. She’d spent all week turning the rock song into a power ballad and prayed they would like the risk she’d taken.

As Anna started singing, she closed her eyes and let the whole world fall away around her. The long forgotten dream of singing came back as she remembered why she enjoyed this as a child.

When she sang, all that mattered were the words of the song. She could relate to every one in some shape or form. All her anger at her selfish dad, all her money worries, and all her passion made her stronger.

A smile tugged at her lips as she realized that this was what had been missing all along. She was born to sing. That undeniable fact left no question in Anna’s mind. She’d do what it took to succeed. The world came back into focus on the last chorus and she put more power into her voice than before.

The song finished and she opened her eyes, then lowered the mic to her side. Her attention focused on Miles, who looked like he didn’t know whether to praise her or drag her off to a safe house somewhere. She frowned as she tried to make sense of his reaction.

“Annabelle, that was spectacular! Well done.”

Her attention turned to Safri whose dark eyes sparkled and her lips curved with enthusiasm.

“You definitely have star quality, and I have no doubt that you will be the one others have to beat in this competition,” Sander added. He too looked very emotional with his pale blue eyes wide and shiny.

Her heart swelled in her chest at their praise, but Miles still sat silent.

An urge to flee from the stage almost had her skittering away like a startled lamb, but she waited—impatiently—for
his
input.

“You took one of my favorite rock songs of all time and made it your own. It was a truly spectacular performance.”

Her eyes widened at Miles’s words and she stared at him with parted lips, waiting on the ‘but’ that was sure to follow.

A slow smile spread across his face and he nodded, as if to say ‘Yes, I really mean it’. Stunned, she turned and walked off the stage feeling numb.

Surreal wasn’t even the word for what just passed. Had Miles got over his dislike of her or was he merely toying with her hopes?

* * * *

Decision time.

This was Miles’s least favorite part of the show. All the hopefuls were split up into three rooms while the judges spent hours arguing, debating, and acting like children while trying to push their favorites through.

This year, however, there were a few who stood out from the others the way a star shines from an empty black sky. Annabelle was one, possibly the brightest of them all. He knew the other judges saw it. Putting her through was one of the things he knew there would be no arguing about. Unless he went against Dave’s orders, that is.

He walked down the long corridor of Studio Four with Sander and Safri on his flanks. They were headed to the last room on the right, the one where Annabelle waited for the news that would inevitably destroy her. Sweat beaded on his brow as he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

Thirty people stood in the room, with almost everyone crowded close to the front. Miles barely noticed any of them or their anxious expressions. His eyes sought the woman he hadn’t figured out how to save yet.

He spotted Annabelle waiting with another girl near the back, but her face was turned away from him so he couldn’t read her soulful eyes. His gaze swept over her rigid frame, and he saw her hands tremble slightly.

Sander stepped forward. “Hey, guys. What we’re gonna do now is split you up into two groups. I’ll call out some names and I want those people to stand at the right hand side of the room.” Everyone fixed their attention on the blond judge, everyone except Miles.

Annabelle griped the girl’s hand and closed her eyes—disappearing into her own world seemed to be Annabelle’s way of coping. The other girl stared anxiously at Sander. Neither moved from the back of the room where they stood next to the only window. The sunlight shined through, beaming on her hair. He noticed with a start that her hair wasn’t mousey brown after all. It was a light golden brown with faint red highlights.

Sander began calling out names. Miles studied Annabelle without the distraction of her twinkling eyes. The heat was back, turning the blood in his veins molten.

Arousal flared at his groin and he realized that the part of his anatomy which had been mostly dormant was coming to life. He dragged his gaze away from her and tried to think of unpleasant things so he could avoid his trousers tightening. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of unpleasant memories to choose from.

“Annabelle MacIntosh,” Sander called, bringing Miles’s mind back into focus. Before going over to join the others, Annabelle wrapped her arms around the girl she was standing next to. There was nothing fake or superficial in her actions. Her aqua eyes sparkled with moisture and he knew she was genuinely upset.

He longed to cross the room and pull her into his arms. Instead, he cemented his feet to the floor and dragged his attention away from her again. Sander had finished splitting everyone into two groups. Now he had to confirm which group would make it through.

Miles turned to the people positioned to the left hand side of the room, grateful that this was part of the show they didn’t film, otherwise Dave would insist he’d make some kind of demeaning remark.

“You’re all very talented and that’s why you’ve made it this far.” Hope gleamed in the eyes of everyone in the group and he hurried on with his explanation. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough on this occasion. We’ve decided that you won’t be going through. We’re sorry and wish you all the best in the future.”

Pain distorted almost every face in the group in varying degrees, while an uproar of shrieks and screams sounded to his right. He turned to search for Annabelle and noticed that she wasn’t amongst the others, hugging and celebrating. Instead she was over by the window, her arms again wrapped around the girl who she stood with before.

There was no smug expression on Annabelle’s face. Her brow was furrowed with concern and her lips moved as she whispered to the girl. From here, he couldn’t make out what she was saying. Knowing what he did about Annabelle, he doubted her words were anything other than kind and encouraging.

Warmth spread through Miles’s chest as he watched Annabelle console the girl. Such caring attributes. There was no evident cheer waiting to burst free. He knew then what he had to do to save her. He would befriend her and find a way to tell her exactly why she should walk away from this, without hurting her feelings.

Chapter 3

Motivations

Lurking in a shadowed corner of a corridor could be construed as creepy.

Miles didn’t care.

Ever since he’d left the room where Annabelle should have been celebrating, he’d had the craziest notion to make sure she was okay.

Most of the other contestants were already gone. He’d been waiting here almost ten minutes behind a large leafy house plant near the exit of Studio Four. The urge to tap his foot against the hardwood floor as an outlet for his impatience was wearing on him. He ground his teeth. Patience was highly overrated in his opinion.

“I’ll miss you too.” He’d recognize Annabelle’s voice anywhere.
Odd
, he thought. Miles had barely heard her speak. “Look me up on EconEkt. My username is annabella,” she continued, and he filed the information away for future reference. He wasn’t on EconEkt. He thought thirty-six was a bit too old for social networking, but his company, Oliver Records, had a page. He’d ask the IT guys if they’d show him how to work it.

While he was debating new ways to practically stalk Annabelle, the blue-eyed angel came into sight. The girl she’d consoled earlier passed on her username, but he had no interest in listening to it. They were nearing the glass doors to the exit and he had to act now or lose his one opening to befriend Annabelle. Letting her escape without speaking to her first wasn’t an option.

“Annabelle,” he called, stepping away from his hiding place. “Have you got a minute?”

Both girls spun around and Annabelle fixed him with wide eyes. “Um…”

“Go ahead, Anna, I’ll add you later and we’ll catch up.” Miles caught the girl’s wink as she left Annabelle and Miles alone in the corridor.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?” he asked the instant her friend was out of earshot.

She turned to him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “That will take longer than a minute.”

He winced at the defensive note in her Scottish accent. “Okay, half an hour then.”

She folded her arms across her chest and chewed on her lip. He could see she was nervous. She probably thought he was going to tell her to leave again.

“I promise I won’t ask you to leave the show.” Yet, he corrected silently. “I just want to talk.” He threw her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Pink tinged her cheekbones and her eyes turned cobalt blue. “About what?”

Beyond the glass doors he saw a man crouched behind a small squared hedge. There was a camera in his hands. It was aimed straight at them.

Shit.

“Not here. Come on.” Without waiting for her reply, he gripped her upper arm and pulled her back into the building.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to wriggle out of his hold.

“There’s a photographer outside,” he explained, keeping a firm grip on her arm as he marched them further into the studio.

“So?”

They’d reached the end of the corridor and he turned right. “
So
,” he tried to imitate her accent. It was a poor attempt, but he couldn’t help himself. “Unless you want to be in all the papers tomorrow morning, I thought we might take this somewhere private.”