Unfortunately, the media attention didn't die down once Mikey had entered rehab.

The papers were still churning out articles about his 'troubled lifestyle', digging out photographs of him falling out of clubs looking worse for wear and interviewing anyone willing to speak to them about their experiences of partying with the Ambition frontman.

From a selfish point of view, however, at least it seemed to distract them from running much about Noah's secret past. The Internet was a different story. Any time we ventured out of the house; photos would spring up on social media. Photos we hadn't even noticed being taken by fans. Fans who labelled me 'The Grabber' in comments, claiming that I was simply a hanger-on who was only interested in Noah for his money and fame.

We were careful not to show any signs of affection towards each other in public, just in case the lens of someone's phone was lurking nearby. One of the stipulations of Noah's new agreement with Brave Music was that he would not be seen getting physically close to anyone. That way, he couldn't be linked to any more fake 'celebrity suitors' by the press. That way, the public might start to believe he really had left his Casanova days behind.

And, as Nikki had said with a sympathetic smile over the boardroom table, that way we might stand a chance of maintaining our relationship.

It wasn't easy, though. Even something as simple as going to buy groceries ended up being a carefully planned operation. Each time Noah left the flat to head into the studio, he would have to coordinate every detail to avoid attention.

I wanted our old life back. Our life when we could walk along the river for hours without being noticed. The days when Noah would pull me onto his lap when there weren't enough free seats on the tube, and the nights where I'd sit at a sticky table in The Lock with a huge group from Uni, waiting to watch him and the boys walk onto the stage as though it were Wembley Arena.

The only glimmer of hope was his upcoming interview with Geoff Colston.

Geoff's show was, without doubt, the biggest in the UK. Each week, he'd have A-list celebrities gracing his sofa to talk about their new projects, their showbiz stories, their lives and their loves. Noah had been given permission to come clean on the show. To reveal the full details of his past life as an escort and finally go public about being with me. For the first time since the band hit the big time, he would be able to admit he had a serious girlfriend. I couldn't wait.

With the routine of him going to the studio and me working on PCJ projects from home rolling by, before we knew it, it was time to pack for Vegas and The Billboard Awards. Mikey was set to leave rehab on May the fourth, missing the awards ceremony by three days. The boys were gutted when they found out but agreed they would be dedicating any awards to him; their fourth brother, on the road to recovery.

As we ducked into the blacked-out people carrier with our suitcases safely in the boot, my stomach was doing somersaults. As soon as we got to the airport, Noah, Alex and James would be dropped off at the departures lounge. I would then be driven around to the terminal my plane was leaving from. Noah may have been going business class thanks to the record label's never-ending money pot, but PCJ had only been able to afford economy for its nominees.

Shoving my carry-on into the overhead locker, I dropped down into my aisle seat and smiled politely at the old couple sat next to me. At least they wouldn't be taking sneaky selfies for the next ten hours. After a bumpy take-off, I ordered a small white wine from the trolley, drank it far quicker than planned while browsing the selection of 'straight from cinema' films, settled on the previous summer's superhero blockbuster, buried down under the thin, fleece airline blanket and checked my watch.

Oh good, only nine hours and thirty-four minutes to go.

More than fifteen hours after a quick kiss in the back of the airport car, Noah and I were finally reunited in his hotel room. Naturally, the label had booked rooms at The Bellagio. PCJ had offered me a budget room in a motel that was miles from the strip. The decision that I would secretly stay with Noah had taken all of one whole second to make.

The ceremony was all set to take place the next night, giving us one free evening in Vegas to see the sights. The only sights Noah and I saw, however, were the back of our eyelids. After sharing a bubble bath and a bottle of champagne, the jet lag hit and we both passed out snuggled up in the soft, luxurious bed.

Preparation for the ceremony began early the next day. After room service breakfast and a long, refreshing shower, I hesitated before answering a knock on the door while Noah was in the bathroom after me. Peering through the peephole to first check we hadn't been found by fans or photographers, I opened the door to a hair stylist and make-up artist.

Bustling straight into the room, they began to unpack their equipment as they talked loudly about how excited they'd been to meet me. It took a few seconds for me to realise they weren't here for me, but for Noah. My gorgeous boyfriend, the most perfect man I'd ever laid eyes on, had his own hair and make-up team.

The shorter of the two women, whose own blonde hair was immaculately curled, turned to look at me as she clapped her hands together.

"Well, your hair's still wet so that's a good start. We can start with a volume dry and then work on a style that you're happy with."

"Sorry?" I mumbled.

"Noah asked us to get going on you," she smiled, reaching out to lift a strand of still-damp hair that hung down across my chest. "I'm so excited to finally get my hands on something fun, he never lets us do anything more than a quick style and a touch of face powder."

I cast my eyes over at her accomplice, who was busy laying out bottles and potions in all shapes and colours across the writing desk in the corner of the room.

"But I wasn't planning on going fancy," I laughed nervously.

The blonde woman's warm East London accent made me feel comfortable, even in a posh hotel room in the middle of the Vegas strip.

"Abi," she smiled, resting her hand on my arm. "We've heard so much about you from Noah this past year and he wasn't wrong, you really are a gorgeous little thing. He warned us you'd feel weird about being fussed over, but this isn't a night at the pub - this is showbiz. The glitz, the glamour, you're in Vegas, baby!"

I couldn't help smiling back at her. Allowing her to lead me over to a chair by the desk, she immediately began getting to work with a brush and a hairdryer so powerful it nearly blew my head off. When she finally switched off its incessant roaring, I caught sight of my newly blow-dried reflection in the mirror. My long, brunette locks – which normally lay flat down my back or piled on top of my head – had been coiffed to within an inch of its life. I hadn't seen as big a beehive since Amy Winehouse had last graced the planet.

At that moment, Noah wandered back in from the bathroom in only his boxers, a huge grin plastered across his face.

"Nat! Hayley! What the hell have you done to my girlfriend?"

He grabbed a pair of grey jogging bottoms out of his suitcase and tugged them on. "I know I said get her glammed up, but I think the nineteen-eighties might be calling to get their bouffant back."

Quick as a flash, the blonde lady launched the spiky, round brush she was holding across the room, catching Noah on the hip as he shrieked and tried to duck out of its way.

"Piss off!" She laughed. "She's going to look like a star when I've finished. Wouldn't blame her if she wanders off with somebody proper famous tonight, not a complete mug like you."

Noah walked towards me, rested his hands on my knees and looked deep into my eyes. "She looks like a star all the time to me," he smirked, before placing a lingering kiss on my lips and striding back over to his suitcase to throw on a T-shirt.

It took Nat and Hayley nearly two hours to finish their 'creation'. In that time, I'd learnt more about their lives than some of my closest friends. Together, they were hilarious and made me forget any pre-awards jitters rising in my stomach. Noah was obviously close with them both, falling into an 'annoying little brother' role, which mainly consisted of them taking the mickey out of him while he yapped at their heels like an excitable puppy.

I was glad to have an insight into what life might have been like for him on the road. Knowing there were genuine people around him to look out for him like those two made me feel a lot better about the months we'd been apart. The fact he was so comfortable to be himself in front of them and not hide our relationship said a lot.

As Noah showed them out while I went into the walk in closet to put my dress on, I could hear them fussing over the strands of his blonde mess that they had painstakingly styled, but which he had instantly messed up with one run of his fingers.

I caught sight of Noah in the mirror, watching me silently as I stepped into my knee-length, emerald green dress. My hair had been curled and pinned into a classic, side-swept style, which perfectly matched the vintage, off-the-shoulder silhouette of my dress. The make-up that Hayley had applied was nothing short of flawless; a plum lipstick set-off perfectly by minimal eyeshadow and delicate false eyelashes.

"Zip me up?" I asked.

As his calloused fingertips brushed the skin at the top of my back, the nerve endings lit up all the way down my spine.

"You look fucking incredible," he whispered, resting his chin on my shoulder to talk to my reflection.

My instant reaction would normally be to brush it off; To tell him not to be so silly, to instantly feel self-conscious of the scar across my collarbone, or to point out how cheap my dress had been in the sales. But, as I looked at the confident, strong woman staring back at me, I felt incredible.

"Thank you," I smiled, turning around to reach my arms around his neck.

I could have stayed lost in his lips all night, if we didn't have an awards ceremony to get to.

Double-checking I had everything I needed in my clutch, I sprayed one last spritz of perfume in front of me then walked through it towards the door.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the after party," I called.

Noah ran from the bathroom with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. "What? No way," he mumbled.

"What does 'no way' mean?" I replied, "It's not like we're going as each other's date is it?"

He held up a finger, instructing me to wait while he ran back to the sink to spit.

"I want you to be my date," he called from the bathroom, raising his voice above the noise of the running tap. "I'm doing the interview next week; it doesn't matter if we're seen together tonight."

"Oh, Noah," I groaned, rolling my eyes as he walked back into the bedroom. "You promised the label there wouldn't be any drama. If we turn up together tonight it will be all over social media and Nikki will be pissed. I quite like your new manager, believe it or not. I don't think we should mess this one up."

Reluctantly agreeing, Noah pulled me in for one last kiss, his freshly minted breath causing my lips to tingle. He looked like he'd just stepped off a runway himself, in a sharp, black suit and a dress shirt printed with tiny white stars, unbuttoned at the neck.

"See you at the after party then, I guess," he whispered, holding my body tight against his.

"See you there," I smiled.

Turning to open the door handle, I paused to look back at him one more time.

"Oh, I also just wanted to say best of luck tonight. I hope it doesn't hurt too much when my song beats yours."

"Fighting talk, is it?" Noah laughed. "Sounds like you're asking for trouble when we get home, Wilson."

"Maybe I am," I smirked, as I slipped out of the hotel room and downstairs to try and get a cab.