Two days.
I'd spent two agonizing days staring at Sebastian Sinclair's watch. The Patek Philippe sat on my coffee table like a ticking bomb, worth more than my entire apartment. Every time I passed it, anxiety churned in my stomach.
Why hadn't he called about it?
Maybe he had so many luxury watches he hadn't noticed this one missing. Or worse—maybe he'd deliberately left it behind and didn't want to contact me again.
I picked it up for the hundredth time, feeling its weight. The smooth metal felt cool against my palm, a tangible reminder of the imbalance between us. Sebastian Sinclair, with his billions and power, versus me—Hazel Shaw, drowning in debt I could never repay.
My phone buzzed with a calendar notification. Mrs. Sinclair's birthday was next week.
A thought struck me. This was perfect! I could prepare something for her birthday and ask Sebastian to deliver it. That would give me a legitimate reason to contact him about the watch without seeming desperate.
