Dawn's golden light spilled through the dining room's arched windows. Archer dominated the head of the table, his silk robe falling open to reveal a torso of sculpted muscle. His attention fixed on Nora as she entered.
"Slept well?" he asked, his voice rough with morning.
"Like sleeping on a bed of nails," she shot back.
He offered her a morsel of Sachertorte on a sterling silver fork. "Eat. I don't let what's mine go hungry."
"I am not yours—"
"Shall we test that theory with Mark?"
She turned, eyes blazing.
He captured her wrist, pressing her palm against the heated marble of his chest. "Admit the truth—I surpass him in every way."
The wall screen crackled to life. Static danced across the surface before resolving into the handsome face of a golden-haired youth, his cerulean eyes locking onto Nora.
"Nora? Can you hear me?" The voice came through clear and resolute. "I'm coming for you."
"Leo?!" The name escaped her lips.
Archer's expression frosted over. "Vanderbilt."
BANG!
Archer's bullet shattered the display. Shards of glass rained down as he turned to her, fury in his eyes.
"Another admirer?" he ground out. "Tell me, when did you acquire the Vanderbilt heir?"