The familiar skyline of downtown came into view, the Sullivan Tower rising above the surrounding buildings, its upper floors illuminated. His tower. His company. His life.
How long could he maintain this separation? How long before the wall between Archer Sullivan and Bullet came crashing down?
And when it did, would Morgan still look at him with those trusting amber eyes, or would she see only the deception, and a life laid bare to the public’s greedy claws?
These questions chased him all the way back to his penthouse, where a stack of acquisition documents—including Vertex Creative’s—waited for his review. Documentsthat might determine not just the future of a company, but the future of whatever was growing between him and Morgan.
12
Morgan
Morgan stared at her computer screen, the numbers refusing to make sense no matter how long she dissected them. Something was off with the Henderson account’s expense report—a discrepancy she couldn’t quite pin down. The project budget showed $15,000 allocated for photography, but the invoice from the photographer only totaled $8,750. Yet the expense report Richard had submitted showed the full $15,000 as ‘paid’.
Where had the remaining $6,250 gone?
She rubbed her eyes, fatigue settling into her bones after hours of staring at spreadsheets. This wasn’t even part of her job—creative directors didn’t typically audit financial documents. But when Accounting had emailed requesting clarification on ‘expenses allocated to the Henderson campaign,’ she’d felt obligated to review the files.
And now she’d found... something? Maybe nothing. Maybe just a clerical error.
“Still here?” Richard’s voice made her jump. He stood in her doorway, already wearing his coat despite it being only 4:30.
Morgan quickly minimized the spreadsheet. “Just finishing up the Parkside revisions.”
Richard nodded, his eyes lingering on her computer screen a beat too long. “Don’t stay too late. See you tomorrow.”
As he walked away, Morgan felt an unexpected chill. Something in his tone didn’t match his casual words. Had he noticed what she was looking at?
She waited fifteen minutes to ensure he’d left the building, then reopened the spreadsheet. Maybe she was overthinking this. Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the discrepancy. But her instincts—the same ones that had warned her about something being off with Jason—were whispering that something wasn’t right.
Morgan copied the relevant files to her personal cloud drive, then shut down her computer for the day. Whatever was going on, she could examine it tomorrow with fresheyes. Tonight, she had plans—Archer was bringing dinner to her place, a reversal of their arrangement from the previous evening.
Archer. Just thinking his name brought warmth to her chest. Last night had been... incredible. The memory of his lips on her neck, his breath against her skin, sent a shiver down her spine. She’d never imagined that not seeing someone’s face could make physical contact feel so electrifying.
By the time she arrived home, Morgan had managed to push the financial discrepancy to the back of her mind. She showered quickly, changing into comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder—casual yet subtly alluring. Her phone chimed with a text as she was towel-drying her hair.
ETA 15 minutes. Bringing Thai. And a surprise.
Morgan smiled at her phone.Intrigued. Door will be unlocked.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, she heard the distinctive sound of his unhurried yet commanding footsteps outside before he opened her door. Archer entered carrying two bags—one clearly from her favorite Thai restaurant, the other a sleek black shopping bag with no visible logo.
“Hi,” she said, suddenly feeling shy despite the intimacy and openness they’d shared the previous night.
“Hi yourself,” he replied, setting the bags on her kitchen counter. As always, his helmet concealed his face completely, the visor reflecting her own image back at her.
“How did you know I was craving Thai?” she asked, peering into the first bag. “Lucky guess?”
“That, and you mentioned it the other day.”
Morgan smiled. “You really do pay attention.”
“To you? Always.” Something in his voice—a warmth, a certainty—made her breath catch.
They fell into an easy routine, setting out containers of pad thai, green curry, and spring rolls. Morgan noticed Archer seemed in his element tonight, more confident in his movements despite the helmet.
“How was your day?” he asked as she grabbed plates from the cabinet.
Morgan hesitated, the financial discrepancy briefly resurfacing in her thoughts. “Fine.Busy. Found something weird with an account, but..." She shrugged. “I just didn’t have time to figure it all out today. How about yours?”
