Once myself and Nancy are checked in at the beachside hotel and have unpacked our small weekend suitcases, the panic truly starts to set in.

This is just crazy.

This is so scary.

I am just about to meet with Doug DiCarto, to discuss singing on one of his tracks. On one of his tracks! My mind is whirring around a hundred miles per hour. My heart is racing and I actually think I might be sick with nerves.

As we head for the door, I suddenly stop. "I don't think I can do this, Nance? I think this is just a stupid mistake that I'm about to make?"

Nancy starts using that soothing voice of hers, gentle and placating. "Frankie, you can do this. You've come so far, hun...don't throw this chance away on account of something that nearly destroyed you years ago."

I blink, slowly and calmly.

I breathe, in and then back out.

"I know I've come so far, but Doug DiCarto is immersed in something that I have been running from, Nance. The stage is what defines him, yet it destroys me." Fear literally runs cold up and down my spine. The fear is what's preventing me from taking another step forward. "Maybe you should go and meet with him? You'd be more suited to work with him, anyway?" I'm irrationally talking now, just throwing silly ideas around because I'm too damn scared to open that hotel room door.

Nancy soothingly strokes both of my arms, smiling at me in a knowing way. "He has asked for you, Frankie. Doug DiCarto wants your voice, not mine." Her green eyes hold their caring gaze. "Don't let what happened to you, turn this chance to dust, Frankie?"

From god knows where, I find the strength to open the door. I find the strength to meet with Doug DiCarto.

I can do this!

I can do this!

Is my nervous mantra as I walk right to the end of the hotel corridor. Nancy is holding my hand, squeezing it tightly to stop me bailing out from this meeting.

I am doing this!

I am doing this!

My nervous mantra goes on as I reach room number 34. The room where Doug DiCarto awaits my company. Before I knock, I inhale deeply. I inhale, and just hope the nauseousness will subside.

As I exhale, my eyes flick to Nancy's before finally rapping my knuckles threes times on the hotel door. While we wait for someone to answer, Nancy finally lets go of my hand with a confidence-giving smile. "Just be the sassy ass you know you can be." She whispers to me with a small sideways smirk.

My smirk is positively feeble in return to hers. "I'll do my best." I say, just as the door happens to swing open in front of us. There, stands a long-haired blonde guy, music loudly being heard from behind him. "Hi, I'm Frankie Fenner...Doug should be expecting me?" I'm now scanning the room, there's four or five guys, a couple of girls wearing skimpy summer dresses, all chatting and laughing in different areas of the large hotel suite.

"Yeah, I think he is." The guy casually drawls out. "Come on in." He stands back, allowing us inside the very lively room.

Doug DiCarto being Doug DiCarto, appears to be having a late afternoon party. I don't know why I was expecting a civilised and quiet meeting with him, because I already knew that his party lifestyle often continues long after he has left the decks. He has fully established himself in the music press as a party animal. He is hailed as one of the most eligible and hottest DJ's to walk the planet. He is rumoured to be passionate both on and off the decks. The music press love him, almost as much as the women do. Yup, knickers are supposedly never safe around Doug DiCarto, because when he piles on the charm, they are supposedly coming off.

"Doug?! Frankie Fenner is here to see you." The guy is now showing us out onto the sun terrace, where more people happen to be. "Doug?!" He calls out again, now making himself heard more loudly over the music that mixes with the Spanish heat that now warmly surrounds us.

Yeah?" I hear a voice answer back, then I see exactly where that voice is coming from.

Sat on comfy terrace furniture, is Doug DiCarto. A guy to his left, a girl to his right, with the few people in front of him moving slowly out of his view. He is sat looking all relaxed, smiling with his arms draped right across the back of the corner Rattan-effect sofa as his eyes casually look up. "Frankie Fenner is here, dude." The guy then shifts his stare from Doug, then onto me.

Doug DiCarto's smile confidently widens. "Frankie Fenner, how nice it is to finally see you in the flesh." As soon as he speaks, it's like there's a hint of suggestion to what he is saying. It's so impeccably done, the suggestion only seems to have an effect on me. "Lanky, get these two ladies a drink, will you?" I smile at that, because Lanky isn't Lanky at all. In fact, he'll be lucky if he's standing at 5ft 3.

"This is Nancy." I introduce my friend, who is literally dying to just go ahead and mingle with everyone.

She waves with a grin. "Nice to meet you, Doug."

His smile widens, nodding confidently as it does. "Likewise, Nancy. So what can Lanky get you both to drink?" Doug asks, his dark brown eyes now firmly back on me, along with that devil-may-care smile of his.

"I'll have a vodka, please?" I say, needing that vodka now more than ever.

Nancy smiles, looking at Lanky. "Just a white wine, please?"

"Right everyone, I need to talk a little business with Frankie. You can all have your drinks inside." When Doug speaks, all those around him pay attention and start to leave. When he speaks, I also find myself paying close attention. I find myself paying close attention to every word that he now says. "Lanky, don't forget Frankie's vodka, okay?"

As Lanky is following behind Nancy and the others, he smiles back at Doug. "Coming right up."

Once alone, Doug slowly closes the sun terrace doors; keeping the music and the people in, and keeping us out. When he turns, he gestures for me to come and sit beside him. "Right, now we can talk." He says, taking the space closely to my left.

Keeping my nerves hidden, I think I'm actually doing pretty well at being all outwardly calm and confident. "I must admit, I was surprised to get your email." I casually say, perching myself right on the edge of my seat on the sofa.

Doug DiCarto smiles, leaning forward beside me. "Well, I've been listening to quite a lot of your vocal work recently after hearing Chaser of Dreams, and I really like what I hear." He's looking at me now, still wearing that smile of his that could literally break me with one swift curl of his lips.

My pulse quickens on account of him, and I am grateful when Lanky interrupts us to bring me my much-needed vodka. "Thanks." I mumble, as he hands it to me with a smile.

Just as Lanky is about to return to the music and the chatter, Doug seriously addresses Lanky. "Turn the music down a little, will you?" He's now frowning, like the music has become something that only annoys him.

Lanky just nods, leaving both Doug and I alone again. "Well, I've seen it all now...Doug DiCarto asking for the music to be lowered down." My sarcasm is light, kind of playful to him.

Half-laughing and half-snorting, Doug gives me yet another sidelong glance. "That's kept just between you and me, right?" His humour soon leaves his richly toned eyes, he's back to the intense looking Doug DiCarto. "So how do you feel about working with me?"

Not entirely sure what to say, I honour how I truly feel. "I don't know. It's a huge opportunity, but one that I'm just not sure I can take." This is where I want to tell him about how I once had a hit dance track with my then boyfriend, Falco Garrison. How me and my size 18 body were ripped to virtual shreds via social media. My voice was big, my body even bigger. And as good as the track was, I wasn't what the public wanted to see in a dance video or on the stage. I was publicly humiliated. Publicly ridiculed. Sure, I had support. I had a lot of support. But I was so hurt and so scarred, I didn't hold onto any of that support. All I kept seeing and hearing, was how fat I was.

"Tomorrow, why don't you come and listen to what I have down already. I think you'll like it?" Doug doesn't appear to be listening. He doesn't seem to hear how afraid I am. And why should he? He's Doug DiCarto. Anything he produces, is pure genius.

Musically, he's unpredictable.

He pushes boundaries.

He's experimental.

And that is what makes him just get better and better.

"Sure, I can do that." I reply with just a little smile. I smile, because I can do that. To listen to what he's already got down, is me not having to commit to anything.

"Great." He says, seemingly pleased. As I take a sip of my drink, I can see him still studying me. These days, I am thinner and my hair is longer, but it's still uncomfortable when I have a guy like Doug DiCarto staring intensely at me whilst I'm drinking my vodka. "How long have you been singing for?"

Holding my glass tumbler, I think for a few moments. "I guess, since I was fourteen or fifteen."

His voice becomes softer, less cocky and confident. "You really do have a beautiful voice, Frankie. That's why I've brought you here. That's why I won't take no for an answer." Although he speaks softly, there's determination coating that soft tone of his.

Taking another sip of my vodka, I swallow it down hard. "There are things about me that have shaped who I am now. Things that don't mix well with who you now are."

Doug shuffles himself nearer, wanting to use this moment to persuade me to think otherwise. "I know all about what happened to you, Frankie. I know you have been shying away from public performances and from videos. But you have a voice that deserves to be heard more often. You have something that needs to reach more people. My song is something so personal to me, that I don't want just anyone to be on it. There's a realness about you. A realness to your voice. Only your vocals are going to bring my track fully to life. Only you."

I sit quietly for a second or two, completely stunned and overwhelmed by Doug DiCarto. Sure, I knew he was a charmer. But here, right now, he is being so understanding and so persuasive, I honestly feel like I could cry. Inhaling a composing breath, I look his way with a truthful half smile. "Wow, I wasn't expecting that." I softly admit as I run one shaky hand through my long brown hair.

Laughing, Doug then asks. "What exactly were you expecting?"

Still so stunned, I shake my head with a one-sided shoulder shrug. "I don't know. I suppose I was expecting someone more full of himself. More cocky and flirtatious. Less sweet and less charming, maybe?" I'm now chuckling, surprised to find myself actually liking Doug DiCarto.

He grimaces with a laugh. "Sweet and charming most definitely has to be kept between us...deal?" He's offering his hand, wanting us to seal that silly deal.

And it's only while I go to take hold of his hand, do I really look properly into his very attractive brown eyes. They are rich like coffee, with flecks of gold that are only seen when the sun shines onto them in a certain way. Yeah, he has really lovely eyes. Lovely eyes that marry perfectly well with his thick dark hair that is styled messily with just a little hair putty. Yeah, he also has really lovely hair. Lastly, are those lips of his. The lips that possess the most charming of smiles. Smiles that should have an apology tattooed on them, for being so knee-weakening and so damn gorgeous. Yeah, he has a really lovely smile. As my hand slides into his, I then realise just how lovely and soft they feel. All in all, Doug DiCarto is head to toe loveliness. "Deal." As I agree to keeping just how lovely a man he is between only us, I make a very secret and silent deal with my knickers—to stay firmly on.

**The video above is: BREATHE - JAX JONES**