Page 47 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

Their eyes are wide and slightly too intense looking, fixated on me with an unsettling focus. My heart skips a beat, and a sudden surge of unease overwhelms me. The stranger draws in closer, a wide grin stretching across their face as they clutch a tattered scrapbook in their hands.

Fear builds up quickly, and a shiver runs down my spine. I step back against the vehicle as they reach out to me.

“What do you want?” I say in a shaky voice.

“Eden Rivers,” they say and continue to grin wide, but there’s something ominous about them.

“Wrong person,” I manage to stammer and push them aside to open the door.

“I know it’s you,” they say, and I quickly get in and slam the door shut.

“It’s you!” they bang on the window.

“Fucking drive off!” I yell at my friend, who’s doing her best to start the car.

“Who was that?” she asks, ignoring my obvious irritation towards her a few seconds ago.

I’m still wrestling with an unsettling feeling that my stalker might be closer than I had ever feared.

“An old fan, I guess. I don’t know how anyone knows I’d be here.”

“Sometimes restaurant staff will phone in tips. If they get the venue in the news, it’s free publicity.”

“This person doesn’t seem to be part of the media.”

“It’s amazing how obsessed fans will know your every move. It’s scary, but I stopped trying to figure it out. Back when we were underage pop stars, we had adults around us in public places, so we avoided mobs or ignored them. As an adult, you either fork out the cost of having several bodyguards around you or learn to deal with it yourself.”

“I’m so out of the damn loop of how this works,” I mutter.

I stare out the window, wondering if this is the life I want again. A hand suddenly grips my thigh, and I turn to find my friend’s face warming up to me. She turns for a moment and gives me a reassuring smile.

Except this intrusive lifestyle comes with the territory of what I want to do. How can I perform in sold-out arenas without crazed fans and photographers trailing me everywhere?

Even the killers and kidnappers might find me.

But this time, I won’t be caught off-guard.

Strong women never give up.

I took a breather for ten years. Took time out. But now I’m back.

I’ve returned stronger than ever.

Chapter 13

I drive through theopen gates of Haze’s property and see one of the black SUVs parked in front and a shiny new Harley next to it.

Memories of the adventures I once shared with Asher flood my mind. We both got our motorcycle licenses together, but our publicist wasn’t too keen on me being seen as a biker girl. Both the label and Oliver were concerned about the kind of image that would reflect the clean teenage pop lifestyle they wanted me to maintain. So I kept my bike at his, and we’d ride late at night or early in the morning, cruising along the SR1 all the way up to Santa Barbara. We’d stop at Point Dune on the way back to watch the sunrise.

Just me and Asher, back when things were good between us. It was one of the carefree things I did, and I loved those moments with him.

Storm hops out fast as soon as I open the back door of my truck, and he whines lightly to grab my attention. I shut the door and see him facing the gates.

“You need the toilet, big guy?”

He responds with a wag of his tail. His therapist said to keep him moving as long as he wants, so I lead the way out the gate and attach a leash to him as we’re both still unfamiliar with this area.

We explore the neighborhood together at a leisurely pace. My guess is that Storm’s had a sudden jolt of energy from his therapy and doesn’t want to use it indoors. Fine by me, after that strange encounter I had outside the café earlier, maybe I need to work off some pent-upenergy myself.

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