“I never asked,” Morgan said as they lingered over dessert, “what do your friends think about... our arrangement?”
“You mean the helmet situation with you?” Archer clarified. “They understand why I’ve made the decision to remain anonymous while out riding with them, and since that’s how we met, it’s created complications that I’m still working towards opening up about.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing them again,” she said sincerely. “They made me feel welcome last time, despite the strangeness of the situation.”
“They like you,” Archer replied. “Especially Viper, though he’d never admit it. It takes a lot to impress him.”
“The fashion designer?” Morgan asked, remembering the gloved man who’d sized her for riding gear with a single glance.
“Yes. He’s very... particular about who he spends time with.”
Morgan felt oddly touched by this information. Being accepted by Archer’s friends—especially the apparently discerning Viper—meant more than she would have expected.
After a dinner that had magically appeared in the refrigerator for them to heat and eat, they cleaned up together in comfortable silence, moving around each other in the kitchen with surprising coordination given how little time they’d spent in each other’s space. When the last dish was put away, Archer turned to her.
“Ready to grab your things?”
Morgan nodded. “Let me just freshen up first.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in Archer’s car—a sleek black Audi that complemented his mysterious aesthetic. The familiar streets looking somehow different from the passenger seat of his luxury vehicle.
“I won’t be long,” she promised as he pulled outside her building. “I just need to grab my riding gear and a change of clothes.”
“Take your time,” Archer replied. “I’ll be here.”
Morgan hesitated, glancing at his helmeted form. “Are you sure you don’t want to come up?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to come up Morgan. It’s better if I wait here,” he said, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “If I come up, I might get distracted by the way you look gathering your things, and we’d end up in your bed instead of making it back to my place.”
A flush of heat rose to Morgan’s cheeks at his directness. “That doesn’t sound like a bad alternative,” she teased.
“Trust me,” Archer said, his voice low and rich even through the helmet’s modulator, “I’ve been thinking about having you in my bed again all day. I’d prefer not to delay that any longer than necessary.”
The intensity in his voice sent a delicious shiver down her spine. “I’ll be quick,” she promised, suddenly eager to return to his penthouse and the intimacy it offered.
Morgan headed inside, waving to Tony at the evening security desk as she passed. The familiar routine of unlocking her door and stepping into her apartment felt strange after the opulence of Archer’s penthouse, yet comforting in its familiarity.
The comfort evaporated instantly as the door swung open.
Her apartment was in disarray—it wasn’t that drawers were overturned and everything was a mess, but everything was disturbed enough to be immediately apparent. Books had been pulled from shelves, couch cushions moved slightly out of alignment, the drawer of her entry table left partially open.
Morgan froze in the doorway, heart hammering in her chest. Someone had been in her apartment.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and called Archer.
“Morgan?” he answered immediately. “Everything okay?”
“Someone’s been in my apartment,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s been slightly moved, like it’s been searched. I’m still in the doorway—I haven’t gone in.”
“Stay right there,” Archer instructed, his tone shifting to something authoritative and urgent. “Don’t touch anything. I’m coming up.”
Morgan remained frozen in place, scanning her apartment from the threshold. Nothing appeared to be missing at first glance—her laptop still sat on the coffee table if turned a little different than how she’d left it, her TV still mounted on the wall. This obviously hadn’t been a burglary. At least not for her valuables.
Within moments, Archer appeared beside her, his breath coming in heavy pants, as if he’d run up all six flights. His presence immediately reassuring despite the circumstances.
“Has anything been taken?” he asked, voice low.
“I don’t think so,” Morgan replied, still surveying the space. “It looks like someone was searching for something specific.”
