Chapter 6: The Patek Problem

The lock clicked.

Zara stared at it.

Bastian's phone still showed the lobby feed. Daniel, hands in pockets, talking like he'd stopped by to borrow sugar. The receptionist was nodding, reaching for the house phone.

Zara's chest went tight. "He's calling up."

"No." Bastian's voice didn't change, but his thumb moved. The screen went black. "He's calling security. Standard protocol for unregistered visitors asking for residents by name."

"By name." She repeated it, tasting bile. "He used my name."

"Yes."

The intercom on the wall buzzed once. Sharp. Loud.

They both froze.

Bastian crossed the room and hit the button. "Yes?"

"Mr Cole," the receptionist's voice came through, thin with apology. "There's a Mr Daniel Walter here for Apartment 204. Should I…"

"No." Bastian didn't let her finish. "He is not a guest. He is not expected. If he does not leave, call the police."

A pause. "Understood, sir."

The line went dead.

Zara exhaled. It shook. "You used your name."

Bastian looked at her. "I live here."

"You said…"

"No questions," he finished for her. "That was before your ex showed up with my address and your friend's name in his mouth."

The word ‘friend’ landed wrong.

Zara's phone chose that second to ring.

Bisi. FaceTime.

Zara declined it.

It rang again immediately.

Bastian watched her. "If you don't answer, she'll come here."

"I know." Zara sent it to voicemail. "That's why I'm not answering."

Three knocks hit the apartment door. Not a bedroom. Front door. Hard. Confident.

Zara's blood left her face.

Bastian didn't look surprised. He looked resigned, like he'd been waiting for the other shoe.

"Zara!" Bisi's voice, muffled but unmistakable. "I know you're in there! Open up before I make a scene!"

Zara closed her eyes. "No no no."

"Friend?" Bastian asked. Dry.

"My best friend," Zara said, already moving. "And she's loud and she doesn't stop and she…"

Another three knocks. Then the sound of a keypad being pressed.

Bastian went still. "She has the code."

"I gave it to her last night for emergencies!" Zara hissed, running for the door. "This isn't an…"

The front door opened.

Bisi stood there in ripped jeans and a hoodie that said *Emotional Support Disaster*. She had two coffees in a tray, a paper bag, and the expression of a woman about to commit homicide on someone else's behalf.

Her eyes found Zara. Then slid past her.

To Bastian.

Standing in the living room. Barefoot. Black shirt. Hair still damp.

Bisi's mouth opened. "He looks like sin and a trust fund had a baby."

Zara tried. "Bisi, wait…"

"Oh," Bisi said. "OH." She stepped inside and kicked the door shut with her heel. "So this is why you weren't answering. You traded up."

"Bisi."

"Don't Bisi me." She set the coffees down on the counter, eyes never leaving Bastian. "Zara got a room in a shared building. This is not a shared building. This is an 'I own the building' building."

Zara moved between them. "He's my…" She stopped. Roommate? Jailer? Billionaire hostage negotiator? "He's Bastian. Bastian, this is Bisi."

Bastian said nothing. He was doing that thing again, watching, cataloguing, deciding.

Bisi broke first. She looked at Zara. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

Bisi gestured wildly at Bastian, then at the floor-to-ceiling windows, then at the kitchen that cost more than Zara's car. "That your 'roommate' looks like he sues people for fun?"

"I…"

"And," Bisi continued, voice dropping to a whisper that was not a whisper, "why does your roommate have a Patek Philippe on the counter?"

Zara turned.

There it was.

Silver. Understated. Sitting next to the coffee maker, as if it wasn't worth a down payment on a house.

Her brain shorted out.

Bastian walked to the counter. Picked up the watch. Slid it onto his wrist in one motion. Didn't look at either of them.

"It's a watch," he said.

"It's a Patek," Bisi said. "Philippe. Do not gaslight me about watches, sir."

"Bisi," Zara tried again.

Bisi ignored her. She was staring at Bastian now with the focus of a woman assembling a puzzle very fast. "You're not broke."

"No."

"You're not a student."

"No."

"You're not her roommate."

Bastian's eyes cut to Zara. Then back to Bisi. "Three days. She stays for three days. Then she leaves. That's the arrangement."

Bisi's eyebrows hit her hairline. She looked at Zara. "He's renting you?"

"What? No!" Zara's face went hot. "I broke into his apartment. By accident. Wrong floor."

"Right." Bisi nodded slowly. "So you accidentally committed B&E after I sent your housing address and now you live with a man who wears a house on his wrist and locks the door when your ex shows up." She picked up a coffee and shoved it at Zara. "Drink this. You're making bad choices sober."

Zara took it because she didn't know what else to do.

Bastian's phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it. His jaw tightened, almost invisible.

"Security got him out," he said. Not to anyone. Just a fact. "He's across the street now. Watching."

Bisi went to the window. "Who's watching?"

"Daniel," Zara said quietly.

Bisi's whole body changed. The humour dropped. She turned back, eyes sharp. "He found you."

"He found the building."

"Because of me," Bisi said. Flat. Guilty. "I told HR you were safe. I didn't give details but I… I said you were with a friend. He must've…"

"Stop." Zara cut her off. "Not your fault."

"It is, if he followed me here." Bisi looked at Bastian. "Can he get in?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Bisi studied him for a second. Then nodded. "Okay. I believe you." She looked at Zara. "But we need to move you. Now. My place, my cousin's, anywhere that isn't…"

"She stays," Bastian said.

Both women looked at him.

"It's the safest location," he continued, tone clinical. "Private security. Controlled access. I know his face. He knows I know." He met Zara's eyes. "You leave now, you're exposed. He'll get to her through you." He nodded at Bisi. "Here, he has to go through me."

The room went quiet.

Bisi broke it. "Who ‘are’ you?"

Bastian didn't answer.

Zara did it for him, voice tired. "He's the reason I can't go home."

Bisi's eyes narrowed. She looked between them. At the watch. At the windows. The way Bastian stood, relaxed, but between Zara and the door without seeming to move.

"Holy crap," Bisi whispered. "You're him."

Zara frowned. "Him who?"

Bisi ignored her. She was staring at Bastian like she'd seen a ghost. Or a headline.

"You're Bastian Cole," she said. "Cole Capital Group. The missing heir. They said you disappeared six months ago."

The air left the room.

Zara turned to Bastian slowly.

The coffee in her hand tipped, a drop slipping over her fingers. She didn't feel it. Her grip tightened anyway.

He didn't deny it.

He didn't confirm it.

He just looked at Bisi and said, "Three days just became a liability.”