Another pause, then:Do you always keep your helmet on, or just when helping damsels in distress?
The question caught him completely off guard and he coughed out a laugh. Was she flirting? After everything that had happened tonight?
Archer took a sip of his whiskey, considering his response.
Part of the whole masked vigilante aesthetic.
Too much? Maybe. But something about their exchange felt different from his usual calculated interactions.
Haha! Let me guess, you’ve got smoke bombs and grappling hooks stashed in that outfit too? Are you hiding Bruce Wayne under that helmet?
Archer paused, a flicker of something sharp catching in his chest. If she only knew how close she was to the truth. Billionaire. Motorcycle. Double life. In his empty penthouse, the hair on the back of his neck rose, similar to the feeling of someone watching him.
Dangerous woman.
I hear Wayne’s got a butler. I’ve just got a coffee machine.He replied, trying to will away the uneasiness that had settled in his chest.
Well, thanks for saving the day masked man. I owe you one. Goodnight, mysterious Bullet.
Goodnight, mighty Morgan.
Archer set the phone down and turned back to the city lights, the whiskey warming his throat. Tomorrow, he’d have to return to being Archer Sullivan, CEO, with meetings to dominate and a company to run. He’d need to refocus, to push thoughts of amber eyes and quiet strength from his mind.
But for tonight, he allowed himself to simply be the man who’d helped a woman stand her ground, who’d felt more alive in those few minutes than he had in months of boardroom battles.
His work phone buzzed insistently—his VP of Operations, wanting to discuss tomorrow’s merger negotiations over several smaller companies they were looking to acquire and expand. Reality intruding, as it always did.
With one last look at the city lights, Archer set down his whiskey and picked up the phone, shifting mental gears from relaxed and free, to the man whose name adorned the biggest building in the city.
But as he answered the call, he found himself wondering what Morgan would think if she knew who had really come to her rescue tonight—and whether she would ever have the chance to find out.
3
Morgan
Her apartment felt different somehow, as if the revelation about Jason had somehow altered the physical space.
She locked the front door and included the chain lock that she’d previously left untouched over the last 2 years that she’d lived here.
As she dropped her keys and bag on the kitchen counter, she caught sight of the framed photo of her and Jason together at the harbour last summer. His arm around her shoulders, his smile picture-perfect.
What a joke.
She snatched up the frame and dumped it face-down in the trash. One down, too many to go.
She moved about her apartment, removing the evidence of her cheating, lying bastard of an ex, and she figured she’d test the waters and see if Bullet was another lying bastard or if he actually gave her his real number.
After their text exchange—which had brought an unexpected smile to her face—she felt Bullet had proven that decent men still existed.
He was funny. Unexpectedly so.
And unlike Jason, he didn’t try too hard. He just kept up, matched her tone, and left her wondering what else he was capable of.
As Morgan got ready for bed, she re-read their exchange from twenty minutes ago, a smile tugging at her lips despite everything.Masked Vigilante.What kind of man hid behind a helmet and motorcycle gear, yet stepped in to defend a stranger? And why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
She did always prefer Batman over Superman.
“Get it together, Morgan,” she muttered, tossing her cellphone onto her bed. “You just ended one relationship. Literally an hour ago.”
