Chapter 5 – Unwelcome Guest

Milo had never considered homicide until the moment he saw Nolan’s suitcases lined up by the front door of his apartment.

Two matte-black bags, one duffel, and a box with what looked like coffee beans and protein bars. The man hadn’t even moved in yet, and already he was disrupting the entrance of Milo's apartment.

To be honest, Milo hated the idea of him moving in, but he had to bear with it for his safety.

He turned sharply to Camille, who stood by the door pretending to look innocent and suprised.

“You...” Milo jabbed a finger at her. “...never told me he was moving in.”

Camille, looking composed, adjusted her shirt. “You signed the security agreement, and besides, it wasn't my fault; you just decided not to read it.”

“I skimmed it,” Milo hissed. “Skimming is a valid form of reading when one’s life is this busy. You should have at least told me you knew you didn't want to let me know!”

“I did tell you, in clause 5B, subheading three.”

“Who the hell reads clause five...” Milo groaned, then turned to Nolan, who had just stepped in from the hallway, dressed in all black as usual, one hand casually pushing the door shut behind him.

He looked like a damn shadow that had materialised into a man.

“Nice view,” Nolan said, glancing toward the skyline visible through the living room windows that Mili always seemed to leave unlocked.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Milo snapped. “This isn’t your summer break or holiday; you’re mainly here to protect me and on borrowed rent.”

“Borrowed rent, noted,” Nolan replied smoothly, unbothered by Milo. That just made Milo upset; he stormed past him, his slippers clicking on the floor as he marched toward his kitchen, taking an apple.

“Come on, let me show you to your room.” He bit the apple to calm down, although it wasn't helping.

Camille wisely didn’t follow; she just sat down on the couch typing on her phone.

Milo led Nolan down the corridor past the media room, the wine lounge, and the library and finally stopped in front of a door at the farthest end.

“This is it,” Milo said, pushing it open. “Your room.”

Nolan stepped inside, eyes scanning.

It was bigger than most rooms; it had a king-sized bed, minimalist furniture, a nice luxurious space, a private bath, and a small workspace. It looked luxurious.

And yet Milo acted like he was shoving Nolan into a janitor’s closet.

“I expected very little space and a steel toilet,” Nolan said, voice dry, “but I'm impressed.”

“Well, I’m not a monster the way you are; I just don’t like strangers in my space, and I hope you won’t intrude.”

Nolan turned. “Noted.” He turned to his business like Milo didn't matter.

And that always seems to annoy Milo; it seems Milo liked Nolan paying attention to him, but he hasn't noticed yet.

“And let’s get one thing clear,” Milo continued, arms crossed. “I don’t need you in my business. You sleep here, you stay here, you don’t snoop, you don’t ask questions, and you don’t speak unless it’s to alert me that a nuke is coming. All you need to do is to protect me.”

“Understood, sure.” Nolan nodded unseriously. “So I just need to protect you without being in your business. I just stay in my room, I don't ask questions, and I don't snoop.”

“Yeah, it isn’t hard, is it?”

“It isn't; it definitely isn't,” Nolan sassed.

'Taking care of your mouth is hard; what about taking care of you?’ Nolan thought, sighing.

“I only agreed to this,” Milo said, his voice sharper, “because Camille begged me. She said it was for my safety.” He paused, jaw tightening. “The stalker’s been watching me, even through the windows. Sometimes I see movement, flashes on the balcony. I think he's not just watching me but everything about me.”

That last part came out quieter than intended.

Nolan’s gaze sharpened.

“You told Camille that?”

“I told her not to tell you,” Milo said quickly.

“I need to know everything if I’m going to protect you.”

“I’m not giving you the diary of my nightmares,” Milo snapped. “Just do your job and know that I pay you.”

Nolan nodded once. “I will.” But he still stared at Milo as if he was waiting for something.

Milo rolled his eyes. “You want a welcome gift or something?”

“I’d like the Wi-Fi password, and I would like to know your room.”

Milo looked at him like he’d grown horns. “You’re kidding.”

“I don’t joke.”

“That’s depressing.”

Still, Milo pulled out his phone, typed something, then turned the screen toward Nolan.

“Here, enjoy your surveillance privilege.”

Nolan glanced at it. “Thank you.”

Milo watched him for another second. Then, as if remembering something, he muttered, “Oh, and don’t go near my wine fridge. That’s not for rookies.”

“Noted.”

“And keep your protein powder out of the kitchen. I don’t want my coffee smelling like gym sweat.”

“I don’t sweat at the gym.”

Milo squinted at him. “You’re really not fun, are you?”

“I’m not paid to be.”

Milo gave a humourless laugh. “Right. Well, have fun and learn more new words than saying noted; it’s annoying.”

“Noted.”

“You really are good at pissing people off.”

He spun on his heel, exiting the room without giving Nolan a chance to respond.

As Milo marched back to the main hall, muttering to himself, he froze halfway.

His tablet, left on the coffee table, was glowing.

He hadn’t touched it since this morning.

He approached it slowly, picking it up.

The screen displayed a new anonymous email.

–You Looked Beautiful in the Mirror Today.

Below it was an image.

An image of Milo, standing in his bathroom, shirtless, brushing his teeth.

It was obviously taken from outside the window.

His blood ran cold.

Behind him, Nolan’s voice cut the silence.

“What is it?”

Milo didn’t turn around.

“I think…” he said, voice quiet and tight, “he’s been in my apartment.”