As she was coming out of her room with a rolling suitcase beside her, there was a knock at the door. He opened it to let in Kane and Briggs and made quick introductions. Briggs was one of Kane’s more vocal associates, but the fact that he was silent spoke volumes about how serious he was taking this situation, which Archer appreciated.
Archer took her bag, and guided her out of the apartment with a protective hand at the small of her back to leave the professionals to it. They’d lock up after they were done, and they’d probably install a few more security measures as well.
“Ready?” he asked gently.
Morgan nodded, her expression clouded. “Let’s go.”
The drive back to his penthouse was mostly silent, Morgan staring out the passenger window, lost in thought. Archer respected her need for space, though his mind raced with theories about who might have broken into her apartment and why.
The most obvious suspect was Jason, her ex-boyfriend. He had motive—jealousy, resentment—and opportunity. But dressing in motorcycle gear to implicate Archer seemed unnecessarily calculated for someone Morgan had described as self-centered but not particularly strategic.
Richard Jenkins was another possibility. If he was embezzling from Vertex and setting Morgan up to take the fall, searching her apartment for potential evidence made sense. But again, the motorcycle gear suggested a level of planning that pointed to something more complex than simple evidence retrieval.
The timing troubled Archer most. Just as the Sullivan Enterprises acquisition of Vertex was reaching its final stage, just as he and Morgan were growing closer, this incident created new complications and potential danger.
As they rode the private elevator up to his penthouse, Archer finally broke the silence. “Are you hungry? I could order us something, or there’s some fruit still in the fridge.”
“I’m not very hungry,” Morgan admitted, offering a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I still want to join you for the ride tomorrow,” Morgan said, surprising him. “I could use the distraction, and I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Are you sure? After everything that’s happened..." Archer let the sentence hang.
“Especially after everything that’s happened,” Morgan affirmed.
Archer nodded, relief washing through him. “The guys will be happy to see you again. Actually, Kane mentioned he planned on joining us tomorrow too.”
He left her to get ready for bed in this bathroom as he did the same in the one across the hall. When she emerged from the bathroom and turned out the light, it was already dark and he was waiting there to guide her to bed in the darkness.
They slid beneath the sheets where he gathered her against his chest. Her head nestled perfectly beneath his chin, her body fitting against his as if designed to be there.
“Sleep well,” he managed, his arms tightening around her.
As they lay together in the darkness, Archer found himself contemplating the layers of protection and distance he still maintained—the helmet that concealed his face during daylight, the truths still unspoken between them. Each barrier seemed increasingly insufficient against the growing connection he felt with this remarkable woman, especially with her warm body now curved trustingly against his.
Sunday morning dawned clear and crisp, perfect weather for a coastal ride. Archer woke early as usual, carefully disentangling himself from Morgan while she still slept. He slipped out of bed and made his way to his home gym for his morning workout routine, giving her the chance to sleep in after yesterday’s stressful events.
Later, he was pleased to find her already awake and in the kitchen when he emerged from his room, he had already showered and the helmet was securely in place.
“Morning,” she greeted, offering him a cup of coffee. “I hope you don’t mind, I made breakfast.”
The simple domesticity of the scene—Morgan in his kitchen, comfortable enough to cook in his space—made Archer yearn for things he never thought possible. “Not at all. It smells amazing.”
They ate together, establishing the now-familiar routine of him turning away to take bites while she politely averted her eyes. After yesterday’s tensions, the normality felt healing for both of them.
“The guys are meeting us at a gas station at nine,” Archer mentioned as they cleaned up from breakfast. “We were planning to take the coastal highway north, stop at a lookout point about an hour in, then continue to this little seaside town for lunch.”
“Sounds perfect,” Morgan said, her mood visibly lighter than the previous evening. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing more of the countryside.”
By 8:30, they were geared up and heading down to the garage where his Ducati waited alongside the Audi. Morgan had dressed in the riding outfit Viper and his assistant Jennifer had helped arrange, the oxblood leather jacket flattering her in ways that made it difficult for Archer to maintain his focus on starting the motorcycle.
“Ready?” he asked as she settled behind him, arms wrapping securely around his waist.
“Ready,” she confirmed, the excitement in her voice evident even through her helmet.
They arrived at the meeting point—a gas station on the outskirts of the city—just as Viper was pulling in on his sleek custom bike. Hawk and Diesel were already there, checking checking over their rides as they sipped coffee from paper cups.
“Look who made it,” Diesel called out, his grin visible as he removed his helmet. “And with the lovely Morgan too!”
Morgan dismounted, lifting up her visor and tucking in some flyaways. “Good morning, gentlemen. Thanks for letting me crash your Sunday tradition.”
