She nodded and moved to the kitchen while he continued his assessment of her apartment. Family photos on a side table caught his attention. Morgan with an older couple—her parents, he presumed—at what appeared to be her college graduation. Another of her laughing with a dark-haired woman, cocktails in hand.
Personal. Intimate. So different from his own penthouse with its deliberate absence of family photos or personal mementos. His space was designed to reveal nothing. Hers was designed to reflect everything that mattered to her.
“Here you go,” Morgan said, returning with a glass of water. “I’ll turn away when you want to drink.”
“Thank you.”
She set the water on a coaster beside the couch, then sat down, tucking her legs beneath her. The dress she wore—a simple black design that somehow managed to be both elegant and approachable—rode up slightly, revealing more of her toned legs.
Archer forced himself to look away, suddenly grateful for the helmet that hid his expression. This attraction was becoming problematic.
“So,” she said, filling the silence. “Do you make a habit of having dinner with women you save from lying exes?”
“Not typically, no.” He remained standing, unsure of the protocol in this situation. Sitting next to her on the couch seemed too intimate. Taking the armchair across from her felt too formal. “Do you make a habit of inviting mysterious men in helmets to your apartment?”
“First time,” she admitted with a small smile. “Though to be fair, I’d already sent you my address when you arranged for my locks to be changed. If you were planning something nefarious I’d probably already be in my bathtub missing a kidney. Besides, Kane was a complete gentleman and had nothing but good things to say about you, so I’m not too worried.”
He opted for the armchair after all. “I didn’t do much, it was just a phone call.”
“Mmm.” She looked unconvinced. “Speaking of which, I’m curious how a mysterious biker has connections to high-end locksmiths who drop everything to help a stranger.”
Archer considered his response carefully. “Kane and I served together. Military creates strong bonds.”
“That explains the loyalty,” she acknowledged. “But not the urgency. Or the private courtyard dinner. Or the waiter who looked like he moonlights as a bodyguard.”
Sharp. Observant. She’d noticed details most people would miss.
“My job requires... certain resources,” he said finally. “Sometimes I use them for personal matters.”
“And what exactly is your job? When you’re not a knight in black leather armor?”
“Complicated.” The default answer felt weak even to his own ears. “Security consulting.”
Not entirely a lie. Sullivan Security Solutions was the largest private security firm in the country, with contracts spanning corporate, government, and private sectors. But it was a vast oversimplification of his role as CEO of a multi-billion-dollar enterprise.
“Security consulting,” she repeated slowly. “That’s deliberately vague.”
“Job hazard,” he replied with more lightness than he felt. “The less specific, the better.”
Morgan studied him, her amber eyes assessing. “You know, most women would be running for the door right now. Mysterious man, vague answers, refusal to show his face..."
“Yet here we are,” he observed. “With you inviting me in rather than running away.”
“Here we are,” she agreed, a hint of wonder in her voice. “I can’t decide if this is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done or the most honest.”
The word struck him again. Honest. There was profound irony in her finding honesty in his deliberate concealment of identity.
“Maybe it’s both,” he suggested.
Morgan uncurled her legs and leaned forward slightly. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“You can ask. I might not answer.”
“Fair enough.” She hesitated. “Why did you help me that night? With Jason. You could have just kept riding.”
The question jolted him—not because he hadn’t thought about it, but becauseshehad. He’d expected her to ask about his helmet, his identity, maybe even his money. Instead, she voiced the one question he kept circling himself—and still didn’t have a clear answer for.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Something about the situation... I couldn’t just ride past.”
