I am to be met in the posh foyer of the gorgeously grand Hyde Hotel: a real favourite with many high profile celebs who are staying in London. And I can see why. Neoclassical by design, beautifully brimming with contemporary charm.

The communal spaces are lavish and the attention to detail is nothing short of opulent. My widening eyes glance upwards at the sparkling crystal chandeliers that hang so high and beautiful above me. After wholly appreciating them, my eyes fall back down onto the impressive furniture that looks so very inviting to all the guests that come into the hotel. Inspired by Ancient Rome and Athens, the chairs and tables all have tapered and fluted legs, and all the sumptuous seats have backrest finials and the most magnificent scrolled arms. The Hyde is quite simply; nothing short of exquisite.

"Hi, I'm Cameron Carter, Rhys's publicist...a pleasure to meet you." A friendly voice soon catches my attention. I follow to where his studious eyes soon fall; upon my press ID card that's hung safely around my neck.

"Oh, hi...Clara Thorn. Thanks for having me." Our eyes are now firmly focused on each other, which gives me a chance to look more closely at the impeccably dressed thirty-something man. Who is very tall, dark, and unassumingly handsome....and is that a Welsh twang I hear in his soft American voice? "Do I detect a little bit of Welshness there?" I ask, smiling with an inquisitive twinkle in my eye.

Laughing lightly, Cameron nods. "You do indeed. I was born in Bracelet Bay but my parents moved to Maine when I was fifteen."

"So you left one beautiful place to live in another beautiful place?" My smile naturally grows, feeling at ease in Cameron's company.

Gently guiding me with the use of his arm being held near the base of my back, he continues to talk as we leisurely walk towards the lift. "It was, although I don't live in Maine anymore. My parents still do but I eventually settled in Los Angeles...San Fernando Valley." He smiles before pressing the lift button. "How about you...do you live in London?"

Watching the numbers decrease as the lift can be heard coming down the shaft, I nod enthusiastically. "Yup! Born and bred." My reply is playful, girlish almost.

Cameron smirks, amused by my eager response. "Whereabouts in London?" Just as he asks, the lift doors open with a loud and musical ping!

Following his lead, I carefully step inside as I answer him. "Bermondsey...not too far from Canary Wharf which is where I work." I watch him press the button to the floor that he's taking me. Figuring that we've had more than enough of the polite chit-chat, I turn to the real reason why I am here. "Is Rhys expecting me?" I'm praying that Cameron says yes. I don't want things to start off awkward from the get go.

Glancing assuringly sideways, he smiles. "Of course, he doesn't like surprises."

"I've heard." My response is more of a groan, and I actually didn't mean for my reply to fall from my lips with quite as much sarcasm attached to it. With a meek grin and an apologetic wince, I look at Cameron with a small shrug. "Sorry...I didn't mean for it to come out that way." Feeling smaller and smaller by the second on account of my wayward mouth, I stand quietly as I wish for the stupid lift doors to just open up already.

"There's no need to apologise. All I ask is that you give him a chance. I know his reputation often precedes him, but if you do right by him...he'll do right by you." With a warm and brief smile from Cameron, I am assured that both me and my naughty mouth are indeed off the hook.

As the lift comes to a steady stop, I ready myself for the very first meet with the legendary lothario. The doors slide back and before I know it, I am being ushered into a hotel room by Cameron. Actually, when I say a hotel room, it's more of a posh suite. A ridiculously gorgeous posh suite.

We walk deeper into the room and distorted chatter can be heard from within the main living area of it. With admiration, I take in the beautiful place that Rhys Ryan has the pleasure of staying in. It's an exquisite continuation of the neoclassical period. Beautifully brimming with tastefully placed furniture and porcelain. What really catches my eye are the intricately carved gilt wood mirrors and sconces that are secured to the uniquely wall-papered walls. I'd never be able to afford to stay somewhere like this and I often wonder whether these celebs ever get tired of staying in places of such opulence. I know that I could never tire of being surrounded by such historical beauty. I am drawn to anything from the past. Antiques and architecture. Their history always pulls me in. I think that must be from where my deep fascination with abandoned buildings stems from. As I take photographs of them, I wonder of their past. What happened within all of those crumbling walls?

"It's nice, isn't it?" Cameron pulls me away from my thoughts with his calm and questioning voice.

"Oh, it's beautiful." My reply is loaded with the very same admiration that I whimsically carry inside of me, looking around the suite one last time before focusing on my meeting with Mr Mega Famous.

"You look like a kid in a candy store." His soft chuckle causes me to look only at him now.

My smile becomes docile, almost embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm a bit of an antique geek."

Cameron is gazing at me, shoulder to shoulder. At first, he says nothing. Only the warmness in his cobalt blue eyes and his natural small smile do the talking for him. Telling me that while I'm admiring the gorgeous suite, he is silently admiring me.

A bloom of fresh embarrassment stretches across my cheeks. It's not that I'm opposed to Cameron admiring me, it's just the timing of it all that does. Needing to drag my eyes and my distractive thoughts away from him, I rapidly start babbling. "I think if Rhys had some shots taken beside that wallpaper and maybe one by that chair, that would look pretty amazing."

Being the sweet gentleman that I believe him to be, Cameron just grins and nods approvingly. Not that I have any time to dither over any silly embarrassments that I may have because I'm soon being introduced to the Rhys Ryan entourage. "This is Jules, Rhys's assistant."

A casual looking guy gets up from his comfy seat to greet me. "Hey, nice to meet you." He says, giving me a strong-gripped hand shake and a friendly grin.

Then another man stands tall, welcoming me with a wide smile. "I'm Rhys's friend, Will."

"Nice to meet you, too." I am soon swamped with hi's and handshakes from a stylist, a nutritionalist, a vocal coach, a couple of bodyguards and a personal trainer. If it weren't for the little Hispanic nutritionalist lady, I'd be drowning in a roomful of friendly testosterone. In the midst of all the introductions, I notice that Mr Mega Famous is nowhere in sight. So I carry on smiling and being my usual polite and professional self, all the while wondering where he might be.

After one glass of ice cold water, more little looks of admiration from Cameron and a brief conversation about Yoga with Jerry the personal trainer, Rhys Ryan finally emerges from his room.

He saunters over, looking slightly scruffy and sleepy. "What's the time?" He groggily asks, yawning as he runs a single hand through his mussed up dirty blond hair.

"Nearly 5:30." Will dutifully tells his drowsy friend.

Clearly Rhys Ryan has been sleeping, so when I asked Cameron whether he had been expecting me, I figured he would at least be awake when I arrived. My eyes soon dart to Cameron, silently conveying my thoughts to him. Apology sits in his eyes while his mouth curls up into a sorry smile. "Rhys, I'd like to introduce you to Clara Thorn. I told you about her, remember?" He promptly throws me a triumphant look, like he's saying to me 'see, he did know you were coming'.

The half-asleep singer is just coming to the end of yet another wide yawn, when he spots me from out of the corner of his heavy-lidded eye. He kind of blinks once or twice, looking at me with lethargic interest. If I'm honest, it's just a little awkward. There's me, standing here like a spare part, waiting for some kind of response from him. The silence soon encompasses the room, as everyone present also seems to be waiting for some kind of response from him.

I am here.

He is there—all dopey and dishevelled.

So I start filling in the awkward silence with my very first impressions of him inside my head.

The first is obviously, he's tired.

The second, he appears to have forgotten I was coming.

The third, he actually looks older than I thought he would be. I was expecting a smooth-faced young man, yet he's actually in need of a decent shave and appears more manly in the flesh.

The fourth, his sage coloured eyes are still looking at me.

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable under the steady gaze of his sleepy spheres, I decide to break both the silence and his stare. "It's really nice to meet you." I edge forward, wanting to formally shake his hand.

Still a little out of it, he blinks rapidly like he's trying to wake himself up. "Nice to meet you, too. Listen, I'm sorry. I must have fell back asleep. It was a long one last night. Stupid really, when I have two more shows to go before we wrap things up here in the UK." He seems to actually be coming to life in front of me. His eyes are now wider and brighter. His slumped shoulders are pulled back; lean and assertive. He even starts rubbing his hands together, signalling that he's now really ready for me. "Okay, so how do you want to do this?"

Pleased and relieved that the awkwardness has now very much evaporated from out of the room, I eagerly answer. "I'll just shadow you, if that's okay? Just watch you in action and take some pics along the way. I do have some 'on the record' questions and some 'off the record' if you don't mind?" His dark brows suddenly rise. He's smiling but because of the guarded brow rise, I quickly try to explain myself. "The 'off the record' questions won't be printed of course. I merely want to ask them to get to know you as a person." Realising that I'm making this sound really personal, I quickly add more. "Hopefully, the readers will love all that I discover about you." And with that little sentence addition, I feel like I can finally breathe.

Rhys Ryan smirks, sly and slow. "Cool! I'm all about new discoveries." His reply is embellished with playfulness. Just how confidently American he is, suddenly dawns on me. Again, his accent and the depth of his voice has surprised me. I mean, I've heard this guy sing. I know that his vocal chords are things of harmonious pleasure. But when he speaks, he sounds so composed and mature. So charismatically American. So smoothly pleasing. I don't really know what I was expecting his voice to sound like, it just wasn't that. Like many things about Rhys Ryan, he seems to be surprising me in many ways. "Will your photographer be meeting you later?" He asks, still flashing me that smile that could make the most faithful of women have the most unfaithful of thoughts.

A little derailed by his smile, I rush out my reply. "There's no need, I take my own pictures."

His voices rises with surprise. "Really?" I nod at him. He now seems outwardly impressed. "Cool." He slowly states before dragging his eyes away from mine to then face Jules. "What time have I got to be at the backstage Meet and Greet?"

Confident, Jules answers him. "Eight."

"Right, I just need to grab a shower." He announces to everyone before settling those sage eyes of his firmly back on to me. "Then we can maybe have a look at some of those questions before dinner?"

"Dinner?" I quietly ask, a little surprised even.

"You eat, don't you?" His tone is teasing. I find myself nodding, not quite sure where he's going with this. As he's grabbing an apple from a large bowl of fruit, he smirks in my direction. "Good!" Then with relaxed strides he leaves the room.

Cameron is soon beside me. "He always likes to have a light dinner before a show. We all go."

I don't know why I suddenly feel so struck with a tinge of disappointment to Cameron's words. For a stupid second, I thought that Rhys Ryan was asking me out for dinner. And to be honest, I wasn't altogether put off by the idea, either.

Just as the disappointment and how surprisingly nice I find Rhys Ryan to actually be starts to slowly sink in, his bedroom door suddenly swings opens and out rolls a leggy brunette, looking almost as dishevelled as he first had when he emerged from that room not that long ago. "Evening." She smugly purrs to every one of us as she sashays her way out of the suite. With her post-sex hair and her smudged smokey eye make-up, she also looks like she's just had one hell of a night. With my neat and tidy trouser suit and my brown hair tied primly into a long ponytail; I positively now feel overdressed and boring.

In seconds, all that I first thought of Rhys Ryan is now dissolving in deeper and more acidic disappointment. My 'nice' illusions of him are quickly fading all away. I actually thought he might be a man with far more depth and integrity than to just be banging babes in his hotel room. You could tell by the reaction of his nonchalant entourage that this babe was just another in a long line of other babes.

My fifth impression of him?

He's just Rhys Ryan.

American pop star and international vagina hopper.