Page 143 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

“Piss off, mate, it’s four in the fucking morning. You’re way too awake,” Asher scoffs.

The guys were keen to scrap the rest of the filming schedule, but I stood firm. The last thing I want is to be the reason for setbacks. We need to do this regardless of the psychopath trying to ruin this for us and kill me. I’m determined to see this through, and the stalker can go to hell for all I care.

The film director decided that the safety of their crew was crucial, so they limited it to just the people necessary and changed the location and the yacht at the last minute, ensuring only a few trusted team members were informed.

We’re going to film on a yacht where no one other than the film team and us will be. Rick had already vetted the staff on the yacht, and everyone had checked out. He’ll be joining us on board, and the other guy, Marcus, who is currently hired to be his second in command, is guarding Brittney and Storm back in LA.

I've made it clear to Catalina that she should stay put in New York for the time being. There is no way I’ll drag her into the line of fire again. We had a conversation last night over the phone, and the moment she found out we were still shooting on the yacht, she expressed serious misgivings and warned me against it, citing some seriously bad juju vibes she was having.

I love Catalina, but she’s no real witch. And I’m still upset with her about drugging my tea all these years and making me think I suffered from narcolepsy brought on by stress. We haven’t yet had the talk because I want to do this in person and not over the phone.

“Actually, FYI, Ace Ventura was the name of the Pet Detective operating in Miami. Nothing to do with Ventura, California,” Asher says, getting out of the vehicle before anyone else has a chance to say anything.

“Such a nerd,” Callum chuckles, and I can’t help how sexy my animal geek is as I watch his ass in those fitted ripped denim jeans. I tilt my head as I step out onto the pavement, watching him stride confidently down the gangway towards our docked yacht.

“Stare at his arse any longer, and your neck might get stuck that way,” Jagger murmurs in my ear as he joins me.

“Yeah, we’ll have to call you Slanted Roof!” Callum jokes, earning a chuckle from the others.

“Seriously, bruv,” Haze adds, “You’re way too energetic for this time in the morning.”

As the guys continue ahead, I linger behind and pull Callum aside.

"You alright, babe?" I ask, tilting my head forward toward him.

“Yeah, siren. Why do you ask?”

“Because usually, you’d be the one cursing at how early in the morning it is.”

“Can’t a bloke for once be happy?”

“Hmm, I guess so,” I say, vaguely apprehensive, joining the others on the docks to board the massive yacht.

I’ve been feeling weird all morning like a bad cold one can’t seem to get rid of. Except I don’t have a cold, nor am I ill. It’s more like afeeling, but I think it has more to do with the other day and my trailer blowing up, causing my nerves to be frazzled.

Bastard’s trying to kill me, but this time, he warned me it would be his end game. But I refuse to hide. Nor will I be running anywhere. At some point, he’s going to slip, and it’ll be his undoing.

We decided against staying the night in Ventura or on the yacht, so we’ll be filming until quite late this evening and returning to LA when we’re done. Everyone’s on deck having lunch right now, but I’d feel better if I lay down for a quick nap before we start shooting again. The makeup artist had to put a ton of concealer to hide the dark bags under my eyes due to the lack of sleep I’d been suffering.

With someone trying to kill me, it's hard to find relaxation, let alone sleep. I’m hoping that the calm rocking of the yacht and being far away from civilization might help slow down my twirling nerves and give me the much-needed rest.

I open the door to one of the many cabins, and Rick’s silently trailing behind me. Technically, I don’t need him here, but the guys threatened him within an inch of his life if he left me when one of them wasn’t with me. I’ve nicknamed himSilent Bob, fromJay and Silent Bob, but he didn’t get the joke even though he’s decades older than me. He’s a pretty serious, older guy who wants to do his job.

This is a luxury superyacht, and everything so far has been on par with the fancier glam lifestyle. I have no idea who this yacht belongs to or whether it was rented for the day, but this cabin is something else. The floors are light grey wood, and the bed is freaking massive.

“Yup,” I say aloud, “This’ll do.”

“Hey, Eddie!” I turn to catch Asher coming down the stairs towards us. “I thought I’d join you.”

“Ha! Yeah, but no,” I smirk. “I came down here to get away from all of you. I’m drained.” I step inside and go to close the door, but he puts his foot between, blocking the entrance, looking peeved.

“I’m a little knackered too. Come on, Eddie, we can snuggle up together, and I promise that’s all we’ll do.”

I roll my eyes, and he closes the door behind him. Strolling over to the bed, I remove my shoes and leather mini-skirt.

“You’re so full of shit, Ash,” I say, pulling the crisp, pristine linens off the king-sized bed. “Since when do any of you climb into bed with mejustto sleep?”

“I promise, darling,” he raises his hands at me as if that’s supposed to support his argument.

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