Page 19 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

Eden Rivers didn’t want us to discover her whereabouts ten years ago. There isn’t a chance in hell we’ll find her now. And even if we do, there’s absolutely no possibility she’ll want to have anything to do with us.

Fucking’ell.

I haven’t thought of Eden Rivers in years.

I’m over her.

That ship sailed the day she decided to fuck off to Shitsville or whatever cave she chose to settle that arse of hers in.

Fuck’s sake.

Now I’m reminded of what a gorgeous arse that girl had, firm and juicy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My knob gets hard just thinking of her laid out on her kitchen table, tendrils of her long blonde hair cascading over her nude body, her perky nips hard as pebbles while my brother is planted between her thighs, eating her out.

I cup my hand over my crotch and adjust myself.

Nope. Not going to go there and grace that bitch’s memory with a wank in her honor.

That was the last time I fucked her, the last evening I ever saw her.

And after that, my world came crashing.

Chapter 5

“Sierra, I need thenumbers and performance data of the last video ads uploaded on all four media spots.”

I watch her walk over to her desk in those seamless bum leggings that are selling like mad in my online stores. The number of women I see in my gyms across England wearing them is absolutely bonking amazing.

“Hayes?” I look up to see my business partner, Liam, standing by the office door. “You’ve got a few visitors at the reception asking for you.”

I look at my watch and then at Sierra.

“I thought we canceled the endorsement for Max Ultra-Hydrate. What are they doing here?

“We did. They shouldn’t be here.”

“Um, Hayes,” Liam says cautiously, and a tinge of reluctance laces his voice. “It isn’t them.”

I look at him and cock my head curiously at him.

“It’s uh .. Jagger and Asher, your ex-bandmates from Sonic Revolution.”

It’s been years since anyone used that name to compare my past. I’ve done well to cast off my old teenage pop star image and reinvented myself into an online fitness retailer with twenty-six successfully running sports clubs all over England.

I’d like to call myself the Fitness Mafia King, but that would be too pompous. So, I reserve it as a playful moniker confined to the realm of my internal ego.

“Show them to the conference room,” I say, cringing at the old band name. It’s not a past I’d like to reminisce. The last time I saw them was at Asher’s mum’s funeral, and I attended out of respect. They’re both brill lads, and sometimes I do miss their company, but they remind me of a past I want to forget.

“Callum is also here. With them,” Liam says quietly, knowing my antagonistic feelings towards my younger brother.

Who doesn’t know about the fallout with my brother? I publicly wrote him off after his third stint at rehab. He was so slaughtered that he didn’t even realize our nan had passed until after her funeral when he appeared at our family home high on whatever the fuck he was on, asking why everyone was wearing black at a party at eleven in the morning. I threw him out before Mum caught sight of him, which almost triggered another bout of depression for her, especially given her fragile emotional state following her mother's recent passing.

Callum is the last person I want to see.

“How is he?” I ask Liam. I don’t care about my brother, but I don’t want to deal with the bastard when he’s off his rockers high or on the piss.

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