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At the breakfast bench, Stone put the mug down beside his empty breakfast plate, while watching yesterday’s drone work on Romy’s laptop.

Fresh from the shower, Romy entered the room, smelling of toothpaste and a lively lemongrass and floral soap fragrance.

He liked how she casually combed her fingers through her wet hair that was well above her shoulders, but feminine enough to tuck behind her ears.

The no-fuss, easygoing attitude was very attractive on her.

‘What section are you up to?’ Romy asked.

‘The ride back from yesterday’s egg collection… It’s great footage.’ The image quality was like watching a movie, and her scenic landscape shots were breathtaking. Romy also had an excellent eye for wildlife and the landscape. But she’d captured his arse in his mud-covered jeans a lot.

‘I thought you would’ve fast-forwarded to the drone bit already.’ Romy tapped on her laptop, advancing the video so fast that Stone couldn’t keep up.

‘This is what I wanted to show you… It’s at the crocodile farm yesterday.

’ She tapped on the screen showing the footage from her drone that gave them a superb view of Saltscale Crocodile Farm.

‘I filmed this when you and Craig were talking with Doug, the security guard, while Amara was taking fingerprints off the gate.’ She tapped on a few more buttons to slow down the play.

‘I went really high, to see how high the drone could run, without losing image quality.’

‘That is stunning footage. Is this edited?’

‘No. It’s just the raw footage.’

‘Wow. I can’t wait to see what you’d do with the editing.’

Her cheeks turned a subtle rose colour. It was cute.

Even when she was covered in hives, she was cute, doing her best to hide her embarrassment and not create any drama—and that earned her a lot of points.

He knew plenty of women who’d wail from a simple mosquito bite or a chipped fingernail.

But not Romy. She was tough, yet feminine at the same time—it was quite the potent combination.

Again, she tucked her hair behind her ears, her wrists so dainty. ‘Anyway, when I was going through the footage this morning, I think I may have worked out my unique angle for the documentary which would be—’

‘No. You can’t use the footage from the croc farm.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s leased by the fashion houses, and you only got in because you were with us.

Otherwise, you’d have to wade through a ton of paperwork—formal requests, insurance waivers—the whole ten-part epic.

And even then, they’ll still say no.’ Stone hated playing the bad guy, but it was also his job on the line.

‘How can you be so sure they’ll say no?’

‘The Rowntree’s get requests to be interviewed for magazines, newspapers, and video-stuff like this all the time…’ He pointed to her laptop’s screen. ‘I know the Rowntrees always say no. Especially Malcolm, who isn’t shy at saying no.’

Her face fell as if he’d gone and stolen Christmas from her.

‘I’m sorry that I’m stuck playing the big bad bully on this, but it’s got to do with privacy .

And I respect people’s privacy, like I relish my own.

’ Stone fiercely valued his privacy—it had always been his sore spot.

But with the pretty little filmmaker staying under his roof, how much of his private world would truly stay private?

‘I’m aware that this might be a bad time for them, what with the theft,’ she said, ‘but I’d be willing to wait, as I’d like to show how complex and hi-tech their unique operation is.’

‘It’s a private farm. And like any private property, you’ll need permission to film.

They’ll need to consult with their staff, who may object to being filmed.

’ Stone casually sipped his coffee but carefully watched her reactions.

Did Romy—a documentary maker—have a healthy respect for people’s privacy?

Quitting her job clearly demonstrated how firmly she stood on her ethical boundaries with filming nature, but did those same rules apply to people and the story she was trying to tell?

The way Stone saw it, a documentary wasn’t that different to a journalist’s article—it dug deep for the dirt to create an exposé, more than anyone had the right to know.

So where did Romy’s boundaries lie when it came to protecting people’s privacy?

The idea of having something filmed under his own roof suddenly felt like a threat to the privacy Stone had fought so hard for—especially after viewing Romy’s footage.

Yesterday, when he’d first met Romy and her ex-director, Stone had assumed they were just tourists, doing their thing for social media.

Julian did fit the profile like all of the other nameless social media influencers, dressed to impress with their brand labels, who were more worried about getting their own faces on the screen, than taking shots of the faceless pilot.

But after having reviewed Romy’s footage from yesterday, the number of times his ugly mug—and his arse—made its way onto the small screen was way more than he was comfortable with.

‘Lenora Rowntree said I could film the place.’ Romy lifted her dainty chin as if challenging him.

But he read it as a challenge over his privacy.

‘What about the people you filmed? Did you ask them?’ Don’t do it, Shortcake. Not on this.

Her cute little brow pinched.

He hated being the bad guy, but he had to do it. ‘Sadly, Lenora is not the boss of that farm. And I know her father, Malcolm Rowntree will say no. Loud and clear. Along with a whole load of colourful expletives that’d melt the metal on a crocodile trap.’

‘Well, that just sucks.’ Her entire posture slumped on the stool. ‘I got some amazing footage yesterday.’

‘Look, I can hook you up with some crocodile farms that will give you access. They do it all the time, as they run a regular tourist gig.’ And she could film those tour guides who loved being in front of a camera.

‘Oh, goodie, a tourist spot that everyone else can tape.’ Her sigh was filled with disappointment. It cut deep into his chest, when it shouldn’t.

She propped her elbow on the kitchen bench and rested her chin on her hand, highlighting that small crescent scar. ‘I may as well hit social media and ask those tourists for their shots.’

‘That’s cute, coming from a tourist.’

The frown was gone in a flash, as she tried to hide her smile.

‘Listen, shortcake, those farms may cater for the average tourist with staff who aren’t camera shy. But I’ll make sure they let you in behind the scenes.’

‘Oh, okay.’ She sat straighter in her chair. ‘But what about all the Saltscale footage from yesterday?’

‘As it’s part of the investigation, I’ll talk to the boss this morning about paying for it, so it’s not a total loss.’ It wasn’t the first time Stone had flipped open the chequebook to pay for images or articles he didn’t want made public.

Dammit, he’d hoped he had gotten away from all of that.

‘First, this is what I wanted to show you…’ Romy wriggled to the edge of her seat, and with the use of her mouse, she zoomed in on an area on her laptop’s screen. ‘You told me you and Craig visited that activist here.’

‘We did.’ He planned to deliver the clothing they’d found to the Duchess, at this morning’s powwow session at the playpen.

‘Well, this is what I saw…’ Romy zoomed out further, then hit the pause button on a bird’s eye view over the hatchery. ‘Can you see it?’

He narrowed his eyes at the screen.

She pointed.

Damn! What she’d captured on film… had the potential to change everything—especially the course of this investigation.